“I think we’re all craving art that feels more human than machine,” Portland-based singer-songwriter and therapist Corinne Sharlet says of the importance of embracing imperfection in art-making, “more cracks in the voice, more wrong notes.” Her voice, both in its acoustic range and depth as well as in its storytelling, is undeniably distinct — ethereal and grounded at once, milk-and-honey-meets-thistle, haunting and enchanting

“When was the last time you felt wholly alive in your body? When every fiber of your thinking, moving, breathing being was engaged in an activity?” Courtney Liu, a Broadway ballet dancer and dance teacher, asks in her artist’s statement.

I recently had the chance to catch up with Brooklyn-based documentary filmmaker, journalist, and friend Meghan McDonough on new openings for storytelling in the face of the pandemic and post-pandemic life.

The words “concert piano” typically conjure up the image of a grand concert hall, perhaps an accompanying orchestra, pressed white-collared shirts and coattails… but most certainly not a flatbed truck kicking up dust as it rattles across the salt flats of central Oregon, desert winds, or the soft hum of wildlife that crescendos as the sun descends over distant mountaintops.