A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Black Boys With Amazing Grace
Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Stephen Jackman-Torkoff

Taken before performance


Rosemary and I went to the Cultch to see the opening night play Black Boys presented by the Vancouver East Cultural Centre and Zee Zee Theatre. It was directed by Jonathan Seinen.

We sat down and Rosemary read me the introduction in the program:

A raw, intimate, and timely exploration of queer male Blackness. Three individuals seek a deeper understanding of themselves, of each other, and of how they encounter the world, subverting the ways in which gender, sexuality, and race are performed.

We looked at each other and since we are in our 70s (and human products coming from a world of whiteness, and heterosexuality of the past 20th century) we became uneasy. Were we at the right place? Would we understand and even enjoy the play?

We should not have been uneasy at all! 

The play, a play with what seemed to be lots of autobiographical content and which was created by one of the three performers, Stephen Jackman-Torkoff, had tight dialogue, mostly free of any clichés. Not only that I found Black Boys elegant and even classy!

The three black men were all different from each other. Jackman-Torkoff (a tall and wiry young man) was the most active and talkative. Thomas Olajide played a less scary (almost straight) young man. He was a marvellous dancer. Tawiah Ben-Eben M’Carthy, Ghanian-born, had that beautiful accent, diction and lovely voice that many (am I generalizing here?) immigrants from Africa have.

In many ways M’Carthy was my favourite in that he taught me how difficult it is to fit in Canada if you are not only a black man, but a black man from Africa. While that alienation only resembles mine in a small way, which is that I am a Latin American white man in a country of diminishing Anglo Saxons, I could understand his unease.

As I watched I thought of my past relationship with black men. I believe this is important as I experienced this from the moment I was 7 or 8. In Buenos Aires my mother had a live-in housekeeper Celia whose husband Abelardo lived with us. They were both black. And in that mostly white city (with darker-skinned Argentine aboriginals) black people were as rare as turbaned Sikhs.

I might have felt exactly as the three black men in the play when Abelardo and Celia took me to an evening “candombe” which featured a sea of black people in an African/Brazilian religious gathering. I remember the chanting and the many fires. But most of all, since I was extremely blonde, I remember being stared at as Abelardo and Celia showed me off to their friends.

The second black man in my life happened in my four year Catholic boarding school, St. Edward’s in Austin, Texas. In the whole school we had one black day student called Richard Mosby. Since we saw him every day, after four years he was definitely part of our scenery. But of course, I never asked him what it felt to be the only black man in school.

In my first and last semester at St. Edward’s University one of my classmates was from Ghana and his name was Gabriel Burning Spear. We played a game where we would ask him to wear his Roman-like toga. We would then go to Austin restaurants. They invariably stopped us at the door. We would explain that Burning Spear’s father was a delegate of the United Nations. And invariably they would seat us.

My fourth black person was a woman. I was introduced to her by a friend at Mexico City College in Mexico City in the early 60s. She was called Benjamin (“call me Benji”) and she informed me that she had recently converted to the Jewish faith. She was from Chicago. She became one of my first girlfriends. I can point out here that walking hand in hand in Mexico City with a black woman meant we were stared at wherever we went. When I told my mother, who was teaching at an Alcoa American School in Veracruz that I was going to  bring Benji with me she told me not to as it would put her in a difficult position with the company. I am ashamed to admit that I did not rock the boat.


Alex Waterhouse-Hayward, Benji Jackson, Robert Hijar

In the late 70s, soon after my wife Rosemary and two Mexican-born daughters moved to Vancouver in 1975 I was a habitué of the clothing-optional Wreck Beach. One of my friends was Black Jim. This is what we all called him. None of us ever gave out our surnames. In those late 70s I was working for a weekly gay publication called Bi-Line. I photographed many handsome young black men (with nothing much on). But Jim, truly had a fantastic body. It was a body that this very straight Latin American could not ignore. I took a series of photographs of him of which this one I can safely place here.


Jim

I have often thought that Vancouver has a poor memory for its past. It was in the late 80s that I photographed a young boxing star called Michael Olajide who was called The Silk. My photograph of him made the cover of Vancouver Magazine.


Michael Olajide

Michael Olajide  & father


When I read that one of the performers, Thomas Olajide had the same surname I had to ask. This I did after the performance. Michael Olajide is his uncle (he has a gym in New York City) and Thomas instantly introduced me to Olive who was there and happens to be Michael Olajide’s mother. I kept pressing my memory and sure enough not some four years ago I photographed a musical group whose bassist was David Olajide!


The Blood Alley Quartet
From left, Randy Bowman (drums), top left Dave Olajide (bass),
centre, Gus Vassos (vocals, guitar)
right, Anthony Walker (vocals, guitar)
 
I cannot finish this review of Black Boys without mentioning a few things. One was that I enjoyed watching how my Rosemary smiled through the whole performance.

The three did sing, including a rousing and very loud rendition of Amazing Grace by Jackman- Torkoff. But the real standout for me was the choreography of Virgilia Griffith and in particular the amazing moves of Thomas Olajide. My guess is that he could teach his boxing uncle a few dancing tricks. The sparse set by Rachel Forbes and the lighting design by Jareth Li, enhanced without overpowering the actors.

And lastly in this most careful 21st century as a man I think I can get away with pointing out how I revelled and enjoyed the three bodies that were there on the floor. In particular there must be some inner recess of my mind that can appreciate a beautifully tight (as my grandmother used to say) “Donde la espalda pierde su nombre.”

Kudos to the Cultch for helping Rosemary and this all-white man appreciate some of the finer things that life can offer.

This old blog of mine about the wonders of the Cultch through the years points out that beginning with 2001's Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (a very early Electric Theatre Company production) the idea of seeing full frontal male nudity with corresponding dangling parts has been an almost yearly institution!



Mannahatta
Sunday, January 14, 2018



Photographs - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward


My Rosemary and I are shortly going to New York City for a week and by sheer coincidence I was reading Jorge Luís Borges’s Prólogo de prólogos. In it he has a forward for Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Astoundingly his forward is to a translation of the work into Spanish by Borges himself. What this means is that in our flight to Newark I will be reading a VPL copy of the work. Why exactly? Because Whitman lived in Brooklyn and wrote extensively about the island of Manhattan. And when we return I will be ordering the Borges edition from Abe Books.

Mannahatta
Walt Whitman, 1819 - 1892

I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name.

Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane,
   unruly, musical, self-sufficient,
I see that the word of my city is that word from of old,
Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays,
   superb,
Rich, hemm’d thick all around with sailships and
   steamships, an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,
Numberless crowded streets, high growths of iron, slender,
   strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies,
Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining
   islands, the heights, the villas,
The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters,
   the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model’d,
The down-town streets, the jobbers’ houses of business, the
   houses of business of the ship-merchants and money-
   brokers, the river-streets,
Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week,
The carts hauling goods, the manly race of drivers of horses,
   the brown-faced sailors,
The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing
   clouds aloft,
The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the
   river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or
   ebb-tide,
The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form’d,
   beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes,
Trottoirs throng’d, vehicles, Broadway, the women, the
   shops and shows,
A million people--manners free and superb--open voices--
   hospitality--the most courageous and friendly young
   men,
City of hurried and sparkling waters! city of spires and masts!
City nested in bays! my city!







A Squeeze of Class
Saturday, January 13, 2018


Katheryn Petersen & her 13 accordions, January 2018


Within the modern symphony orchestra there are a couple of maligned instruments that are the butts of many jokes. One is the viola and the other is the bassoon. Some of these jokes are all about the usefulness of burning violas in order to light bassoons and convert them into ashes.

But the very musicians who might make viola or bassoon jokes are aware that Antonio Vivaldi wrote beautiful stuff for the bassoon and the viola is prominent in his Four Seasons.



The accordion cannot play second fiddle to any instrument in the modern symphony orchestra because, alas! it is not an instrument of the orchestra. Thus the accordion has suffered in the acceptance of its status as a modern instrument of note.

It is only recently that violin virtuoso Marc Destrubé has revealed that he too, enjoyed playing the accordion.

My personal beef about this bellows instrument is that I detest the polka in whatever manifestation it might occur. I hate the Mexican polka of the northern states, too. Perhaps somewhere in my memory is a lingering awareness of the role of the instrument in my youth of having watched (no excuses!) the Lawrence Welk Show.




As an Argentine I paradoxically admire, love and enjoy the music of the bandoneón in tango and especially when it is a composition by Astor Piazzolla who was a master of this instrument which I am told is far more difficult to play that the accordion. And, I despise the chamamé, the folkloric music of the Argentine province of Corrientes because it does feature the accordion. Ugh!

So I am have great difficulty in accepting that one of the most beautiful of women that I have photographed, now for 32 years, Katheryn Petersen happens to be a virtuoso of the accordion. Not only that, she has produced a yearly Vancouver extravaganza called Accordion Noir.

Obviously I am the one with the problem and I will readily accept that I am in a squeeze.




.




New Music For Old Instruments: After Bach
Friday, January 12, 2018

Rodney Sharman - Composer New Music for Old Instruments


Jocelyn Morlock - VSO Composer in Residence - New Music for Old Instruments


Bramwell Tovey - Artistic Director VSO - Composer New Music for Old Instruments

Alexander Weimann & Bramwell Tovey will be playing some variations together





This coming Friday my Rosemary and I are going to a concert of New Music for Old Instruments After Bach at Christ Church Cathedral.

Yesterday Tuesday we went to the Vancouver East Cultural Centre to a play Black Boys. One of the three performers was called Thomas Olajide. His surname rang a bell in my memory as sometime in the 80s I photographed a handsome and young boxer called Michael Olajide nicknamed The Silk. After the show I approached Thomas Olajide to enquire. And “Yes,” he said, “Michael is my uncle and his mom Olive is right here.”

To me our fine city has a very poor memory. Was I the only one present who connected the two men?

It is the same situation for this upcoming concert of New Music for Old Instruments. In the 90s when the Pacific Baroque Orchestra was under the musical direction of violinist Marc Destrubé I went to several concerts in which the Pacific Baroque Orchestra had commissioned local new music composers to write stuff for old instruments. This is the list that Destrubé recently sent my way that confirmed that my aging memory is still okay:

The pieces of new music PBO commissioned and premiered in my time were:

‘Not a Single Stone' - Peter Hannan (he’s the composer who used to play the recorder (he hasn’t in a long time; and long before that he was a horn player in the VSO)

‘Bloom’ - Linda Catlin Smith (Toronto)

[these were the two that we did as ’solstice’ pieces in the Vivaldi 4 Seasons program]

Arioso Distante’ - Bradshaw Pack (not a version of a Brandenburg, but for the same instrumentation as Brandenburg III, which was played on the same program). It’s on his CD compilation ‘Alogos

‘Golden’ - Jocelyn Morlock. It’s on her CD compilation ‘Cobalt’, in a version with oboe instead of soprano.

Looking East’ - Amir Koushkani (concerto for tar and orchestra).

Making Kingdom’ - Teresa Hron.

Marc Destrubé
 Of new music I have written these:

 One Guest blog by composer Rodney Sharman

New Music for old instruments with Alexander Weimann and Reginald Mobley

 New Music for old instruments about Rodney Sharman

The Trombone as seen by Sharman King

What is new music?  My take

Masque and evening of new music




Béatrice Larrivée - A Presence in Spades
Thursday, January 11, 2018





In the earlier part of the 19th century when photography began to compete with other forms of graphic impression there was an emphasis and interest in the idea that photography was accurate (alas! Photoshop took care of that in the 20th century). There were some photographers who thought if they parked their cameras in front of a dying person they would be able to capture (a term used a lot in this 21st century but with far more relevance in the 19th in this instance) that precise moment when the soul (life force?) left the body. Of course they all failed. They should have known  of the impossibility simply by thinking and applying Zeno’s paradox in conjunction with Newton and Leibniz’s infinitesimal.

In Spanish we have the term “de cuerpo presente” which means a funeral service where the dead person is present, usually in an open coffin. But there is a secondary meaning that I like. It is applied to the strong presence of a real presence. Think of Marlon Brando de cuerpo presente and you will know what I am citing here.

I saw many bullfights as a teenager in Mexico City and I had the good fortune of seeing Spanish matador Paco Camino. There was something about him that I could only call presencia. It perhaps had to do with his movements similar to that of a very talented ballet dancer. I never saw Manolete but even in his photographs you knew he had it.

And yet you can watch two ballet dancers, equally good and only stare and be moved by the one that has that so difficult to define presence.

In my years of going to ballet and modern dance performances I noticed this intangible talent in Evelyn Hart, Lauri Stallings and at the Arts Umbrella Dance Company the French Canadian Béatrice Larrivée and also there, Albert Galindo  and Nicole Ward.

And I could not possibly forget my friend, dancer/choreographer Sandrine Cassini.

Larrivée graduated a couple of years ago and is now dancing in Montreal. She posted, recently, this video which is a genuine selfie video. I don’t quite understand it but I know enough about dance that there is that exciting intangible there that is presencia. And she has it in spades.

This is her video selfie


























     

Previous Posts
Black Boys With Amazing Grace

Mannahatta

A Squeeze of Class

New Music For Old Instruments: After Bach

Béatrice Larrivée - A Presence in Spades

Donnelly Rhodes - December 4, 1937 – January 8, 20...

Janet Wood - The Amateur Rose Lady

Inquietud

My Epiphany!

My Two Fave Clarinetists



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1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

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9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

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10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

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3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

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8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17

11/19/17 - 11/26/17

11/26/17 - 12/3/17

12/3/17 - 12/10/17

12/10/17 - 12/17/17

12/17/17 - 12/24/17

12/24/17 - 12/31/17

12/31/17 - 1/7/18

1/7/18 - 1/14/18

1/14/18 - 1/21/18