Ephemeral Art-What is "This Progress" ? Perhaps just a "Kiss"

The young girl* greeted me on the ramp inside the Guggenheim Museum, introduced herself and asked "What is Progress?"  Thus began my participation in the Tito Sehgal exhibit at the Guggenheim Museum which might be called performance art or conceptual art.    I had known this was going to happen so had thought about my answer in advance.  As we slowly made our way up the ramp of the beautiful Frank Lloyd Wright designed spiral, devoid of paintings for this exhibit, I discussed how I felt progress was learning the essence of the human condition, stripped of the distractions of technology and commercialism.  The bone white, skeletal walls of the Guggenheim reinforced my thought.  About 1/3 of the way up the ramp, a middle aged man* came out from behind a pillar and literally interrupted our conversation with his thoughts about how technology could contribute to an experience and enhance the appreciation of the human condition.  Our young friend drifted away and he and I walked and talked about the dehumanization of the spirit that I had felt working in a cubicle and on spreadsheets and how I relished my current time feasting my eyes on real (not digital) art and my ears on real (not digital) music. As we were higher up on the ramp, Katherine, a woman slightly older than me approached and 'middle-aged man' excused himself.   Katherine returned to the concept of progress but from her personal, historical perspective and we discussed her exposure as a child to "colored-only" water fountains (which she thought must be wonderful and she wanted to see the colored water until her mother painfully explained the real meaning of the sign).  By the  top of the ramp we were jointly amazed that her young friend did not know who NOW was or appear to appreciate the threat to women's reproductive rights that young women faced.  So I had journeyed from personal humanistic progress to more mundane political progress.  * Isn't it typical that Kim can't remember the names of the young girl or middle-aged man!

Thus I became part of the art, of the expression, that is behind Tito Seghal's exhibit.  For a lonely retiree, it was a welcome experience but I could tell that most people who participated also welcomed and connected with this art form that exists only in the moment.  I debated starting over again and discovering how the experience differed with other encounters, but decided instead to slowly walk down the ramp and observe how others were participating.  (I also spent additional time at the museum checking out the other exhibits and will write about them in future blogs). 

The slow walk also allowed me to become a voyeur and visually participate in Sehgal's other exhibition "Kiss."  "Kiss" is a "balletic tableau" and a young man and young woman engage, non-stop, in a prolonged exploration of each other with the kiss being the central, but not only, part of the encounter. Their movements were beautiful, tender, provocative, exploratory, but never dehumanizing as the more erotic, pornographic voyueristic opportunities that abound in the media can be. The signs warned "no cameras" so I surreptitiously took the following photo on my iPhone-which added to my sense of participating as a voyeur. I couldn't load my video on this blog, but you can see it on my Facebook page. Both photo and video are intended for my family and friends only.

The Devil (and his minion Attila) Wears Prada

The Eagle wants to post this opera review before the real critics get theirs on the web, in order to get your respect for my critical insight and keen powers of observation.  After writing this I intend to go back and add links to the real reviews, but you have my word that the following is pure Kim Alexander.

Attila, a seldom-performed early (1846) Verdi opera premiered at the Met last night.  The plot dealt with the Attila's destruction of the Roman Empire and its overarching theme of a dynamic, raw violent uprising destroying complacent, corrupted civilized power has an obvious relevance today.  All that survives the barbarian onslaught is the new settlement of Aquileia (Venice) founded by Roman refugees on the verdant lagoons of the north.  On this larger scale the production had two visually commanding set elements:  vast slabs of destroyed stone monuments and buildings are followed by a lush green, other-worldly tropical wall.  One couldn't help but think of the destruction in Haiti or the Middle East (for different reasons but with the same results) as well as our Utopian wish for a green revolution.  The production was designed by the Pritzker winning architects Herzog & de Meuron who also designed the "Birds Nest" at the Olympics.  The Director, Pierre Audi, was born in Beirut and since I just noticed this biographical fact I find my observation on the destruction may be reinforced.  The link from the Met's website has an interesting interview with video that will help you visualize the production.

Ricardo Muti, the legendary La Scala director, made his Met debut last night and elicited beautiful, subtle themes from the orchestra and chorus.  One highlight for me was the second scene of the Prologue when hermits, crouched in caves beneath the ruins, are in fear of a violent storm.  The orchestration and the voices were soft and colourful (borrowing a musical term that seems to fit here) and the lighting of the set was at its most effective.  The ruins became translucent with the rose of the dawn .  The cross in the cave (suggesting their reliance on faith in God) slowly and dramatically illuminated.  This scene was the most visually effective and it reminded me of the beautiful sunrises that are reflected in the skyscrapers of lower Manhattan.  Every morning I am in awe of the subtle and dramatic lighting that lights up the skyline across the river from our apartment and I hope one day to capture this and post a photo on the blog.  I digress in order to illustrate how some of the smaller transitional moments of an operatic production can be the most moving.

The principal performers were good, but I have to confess that the story and the stylized arias and cabalettas seemed too stereotyped and artificial.  I kept thinking that my non-opera loving friends would find this production validated their disinterest in opera.  Ildar Abrasakov,a Russian bass was good in the lead role of Attila.  He was suitably large in voice and presence and not overwhelmed by the dramatic ruins. I was disappointed in the romantic tenor, Ramon Vargas.  I didn't know if Verdi wrote the music in what seemed a lower range to me, or whether he couldn't handle the high notes.  The best performer of the evening was a last minute substitute, Giovanni Meioni, who played the conspiratorial Roman general, Ezio.  The soprano, Violetta Urmana, was a classic warrior heroine which is not my preference for soprano leads but she certainly had a dynamic voice.  However, I was constantly distracted by her Marge Simpson hairdo, which brings me to the real critique of this production.


Miuccia Prada's costumes and the static stage direction were underwhelming and yet intrusive.  Attilla's helmet and Ezio's cape had little lights on them that reminded me of the running lights that hot-rod owners will have around their license plates.  I overheard someone compare them to campy Star Wars light sabers and perhaps that was the intent.  I could not distinguish the marauding Huns from the oppressed Roman refugees because everyone wore brown.  I think the Huns were intended to look like troops in modern camouflage and even they had to wear ridiculous lights on their heads which made them look like coal miners.  Or maybe this was intentionally correlating war and destruction with industrialization.  I've never had the nerve to "boo" but wanted to when the Druid priestesses in Act II, who are supposed to be singing and dancing, stand there mute and are skinny little runway models that Prada must have recruited from last week's Fashion Week in New York.

Well the audience's reaction was equally mixed.  There was polite applause overall, some bravos for the leads, an enthusiastic bravo for Muti and the orchestra, and boos for Herzog & de Meuron.  Prada  didn't show up for the curtain call (coward! Odabella would have!) There is as much drama in the curtain calls at a premiere performance as in the opera.  Muti took one or two bows and then suddenly walked off with an odd hand-wave to the audience, as if to say "I'd stay but I really have more important things to do than to listen to your mixed reaction."  I suspect the New York audience is not as "sophisticated" at the European audiences who have seen more post-modernist (?) productions like this.  The gentleman next to me asked, "Did they really boo?  Who were they booing? Was that a joke?" and it was obvious from our conversation that he was a regular opera goer who thought it was a good production.  Now that you've suffered through my review you can compare it with those who really know what they are talking about. (and as I post these links it is the first time I've had a chance to see what others say)

Addio, addio senza rancor

I love La Boheme; I love every note of this opera.  I love to cry in both Acts III and IV.  Even though we've seen it several times at the Met we knew we wanted to go again when we heard that star soprano Anna Netrebko would be singing Mimi.  The Zeffrelli set is fantastic, especially in the Act II setting which includes a multi-layer scene in the Latin Quarter with Cafe Momus tucked under a street bustling with activity, the stores lit up on Christmas Eve and all of Paris out celebrating on a broad staircase leading up Montmarte. Of course, we will always hear Luciano Pavarotti's voice in our ear as he was the most wonderful vocal Rudolfo (although his acting left something to be desired).

Saturday night's revival included a rising young tenor Piotr Beczala as well as a wonderful ensemble of young Bohemians as Marcello (Gerald Finley), Musetta (Nicole Cabell), Schaunard (Massimo Calletti) and Schaunard (Shenyang).  This was a sold out performance and when I looked for tickets they were limited but I splurged on two upfront in the 6th row, center.  We've never sat this close at the Met and the experience was like the broadcast HD performances but obviously so much better.  This vibrant cast was completely believable as young artists in Paris in the 1830's (you may recall that Rent is based on La Boheme) and in our seats we were able to appreciate the subtlety of the acting, something that is not always obvious from our typical seats in the Grand Tier.

So is it any wonder that I cried during Act III, set in a beautiful soft snowfall when Mimi realizes she is dying and she and  Rudolfo decide to break up.  Mimi instructs Rudolfo to gather the few things she has left behind and she'll send someone for them.  The Met "title" system boringly translated Addio senza rancor as "let's part as friends" but I always prefer, "Goodbye, without anger". Then they postpone the breakup "We'll part in the season of flowers" and Mimi (unlike an Ithacan) says she'd like winter to last forever!

"Cue Gavel Sound"

On Friday I reported on my Facebook wall that there was exciting activity on the street below as the production crews from Universal were setting up for a Law and Order episode.  It was interesting seeing how much equipment (and precious parking space) they take up for a few scenes as this photo from the "eyrie" shows.  I walked around and took a few more uninteresting photos and learned from a crewmember that S. Epatha Merkerson  (Lt. Anita Van Buren, the supervisor) would be filming in the brownstone in the evening. 

That evening we had a wonderful dinner with Greg's colleague Bernie M. and her friend Matt and discussed their academic careers, English PhD programs, and New York art and theatre (Matt is a professor of English and drama).  After dinner we walked back down Willow Street and I hoped we would see some of the filming.  Sure enough, the street was all lit up with the set backlighting and I knew I'd get a really interesting photo for the blog.,  Sure enough, just as I got close enough for a good shot and pulled out my camera they turned off the light and began packing up the set.  So, we'll have to settle for a less interesting daytime shot of the brownstone and keep our eyes peeled for when this shows up in an episode.  Since Greg watches episode 3-4 times over, I'm sure we'll eventually see it.

Continuing Education-There Was a Child Went Forth

Thursday, February 18 was an expansive day:  a day in which I was able to share in the happiness of my children while also experiencing my own wide-eyed wonder in the world around me.  I continue to revel in the opportunities that are available to me during this New York visit and I am slowly developing a continuing education curriculum for what I want to learn in the years that I have in front of me.   (I sure wish I could learn to blog  in the active voice without using the egotistical "I" all the time.  But since this is my egotistical blog I will mention that during the day Ted called me with news that he had been accepted into Yale and Princeton for the English PhD program).

Once again, I planned a full day in Manhattan book-ended by a concert rehearsal by the New York Philharmonic and a seminar on Walt Whitman in the evening.  The morning was filled with the "Open Rehearsal" of four pieces with a dance theme guest conducted by David Robertson from the St. Louis Symphony.  This was a fine selection but if I damn with faint praise you must remember that I have been feeding myself a very rich diet of classical music.  My favorite selection was the ethereal "Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun" by Debussey which "Mr Robertson conducted (in) a beautifully nuanced interpretation that highlighted the languourous, shimmering textures..." One advantage of attending an open rehearsal is that the orchestra will  replay sections and I was able to hear the bulk of this piece more than once. 

After the concert I walked a mile and half across the wintry Central Park (lots of snowmen, sledding and snowball fights) to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  I had four fantastic hours at my disposal.  I bought a membership to ensure future visits, had a wonderful lunch overlooking Central Park and shopped for a while to make sure I took advantage of my one day only 20% discount at the Met's store.  The highlight of the afternoon was the one hour tour on Impressionism and Post-Impressionism.  The guide took us chronologically from the Academie's juried Salon shows to the decision by rejected artists (who networked at the Cafe Guerbois)  to start their own Salon de Refuses (Salon of the Refused) and the work we now call Impressionism began to be seen by the general public.  We learned about  this art movement by examining about 10 paintings: Manet, Renoir, Monet, Degas, Cezanne, Seurat.  We ended with Van Gogh's Wheat Field with Cypresses which was a beautiful transition to my evening lecture on Walt Whitman.

In the evening I attended a 3 hour seminar by Helen Vendler of Harvard on Walt Whitman at the 92nd Street Y (which is known for its concerts and lecture series).  I wanted to read more Whitman while in New York because I always associate him with Brooklyn.  This blog was named The Eagle's Eyrie for two reasons: to suggest the view that I have of Manhattan from our 11th floor penthouse and to suggest that I would like to become a writer and observor as Whitman was (and he was the editor of The Brooklyn Eagle).  The lecture was a bit disappointing (see, dear reader, I'm not going to rave about everything) but I certainly enjoyed the additional exposure to Whitman.  So I am going to bore you with two excerpts that I believe tie into today's experience.  The first reflects my feelings as I embark on the second childhood or retirement:

There was a child went forth every day,

And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became,

And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day,

Or for many years or stretching cycles of years

The second is from the moving When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd .  As we read these lines I thought of Vincent Van Gogh's cypress tree which Van Gogh associated with death and yet he strove to resurrect himself through the living movement of the wheat fields:

From the deep secluded recesses,
From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of the bird.

And the charm of the carol rapt me,
As I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night,
And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.

Mahler's Glorification of Existence

Greg and I promised ourselves that we would try to take advantage of every opportunity to hear great orchestral moments when we were in New York and Wednesday night was one of the greatest we've heard in our admittedly limited experience.  The celebrated Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra from Amsterdam presented Gustav Mahler's Symphony #3 in D Minor.  Mahler wrote monumental works using very large orchestras and choruses, so performances of his works require immense resources.  The stage was filled to capacity with perfomers-by my count there were 95-100 members of the orchestra, 30 members of the women's choir and 75 members of the boyschoir. So when the symphony pulls out all the stops, as in its powerful first movement,  it is an instrumental blast of sound.  The 30 minute first movement ranges from the infinitesimally quiet sound of a muted drum to a tsunami of music with all the instruments at full volume. There is no sensory experience to equal all those sound waves, exquisitely synchronized and in harmony, coming at you. 

Mahler was an emotional, evocative composer who said "I don't choose what to compose. It chooses me"   And since the 3d Symphony was composed as a musical evocation of the forces and creations of nature, both Greg and I felt that we had heard God's voice within the orchestral creation.  The titles to the five movements in the second part of the symphony rejoice in the progression in the world of creation:

• What the flowers of the meadow tell me
• What the animals in the forest tell me
• What the night tells me
• What the angels tell me
• What love/God tells me

 The "animals" passage included a haunting posthorn solo.  The "night" passage is still and deep with a poem by Nietzsche sung by a mezzo-soprano.  The final movement is an emotional adagio and the massive string section soared with the feeling that only love and God can elicit.  Since my critical writing skills don't rise to the occasion of this performance, I recommend the linked review which more fully describes a "performance led with passion, energy and  sense of mystical otherworldliness."

Thursday I spent the day following other evocative, "impressionistic" artists who also used their creative gifts to glorify existence.  My next blog entry will try to recreate my experience with Debussy, Van Gogh and Walt Whitman all in one day.  I love New York!

Valentine's Memories

My loving husband knew that I had always wanted to see Betty Buckley in a cabaret appearance and so this was our Valentine's (Eve) celebration. Greg and I first heard Buckley in the great Robert Duvall movie Tender Mercies in 1983. But of course, my most "memorable" prior experience was when I saw Buckley as Grizabella in 1987 in Cats when I took Beth to the performance for Beth's 10th birthday (and my wonderful brother-in-law Pat ensured that we had wonderful seats on the center aisle).

We had a stylish evening, taking a car service to Feinstein's at the Regency on Park Avenue. It seems to me that the intimate nightclub experience is losing its appeal, although I haven't gone to any shows in places like Las Vegas so perhaps I'm wrong. This was one of those evenings where we enjoyed the experience but won't rush to duplicate it (however I may now be committed to a Moody Blues or Rolling Stones concert). We were seated at a small front and center table and served a less than intimate dinner prior to the performance. It's hard to carry on a conversation with strangers at your elbows and a noisy room preventing one from speaking discretely. The menu choice was prix fixe with a limited list of entrees: better than we anticipated but then again you wouldn't go to Feinstein's for the meal.

Buckley is a supreme song stylist and her show was titled For The Love of Broadway. She was backed by 3 excellent musicians who have been with her for 20 years and her accompanist/arranger was particularly impressive. I especially enjoyed her medley of Some Come to Me-Bend to Me (from Brigadoon) and This Nearly Was Mine (from South Pacific). She brought tears to my eyes, and to hers (!) when she sang Jacques Brel's beautiful "If You Go Away". We were amused by the table in front of us (luckily to the side) that included a stoned woman who waved her arms overhead the entire show and the rude, cynical "connected" bad-fellow who chewed his toothpick sullenly when Buckley ignored his "request" for Sunset Boulevard. We were treated at the end to an encore of her most famous song which she told us she had only sung once before in this series (4 weeks of 2 shows a night). So I leave you with an older, wiser Memory which allows me to share our experience with you.

Snow Day

New York City braced for a winter blizzard by cancelling schools. Greg walked to BLS and was turned away by the guard and told the Law School was closed for the day so he came home and took advantage of the snow day by reading and relaxing, a rare treat for him. But I had a wonderful day of "classes" and the snow did not slow me down. Following the trend to home school children, I am "city schooling" myself. I began the day by reading Walt Whitman's Song of Myself. I am attending a 3 hour seminar next week on Whitman conducted by Helen Vendler of Harvard so this was part of my homework assignment. One of my goals for this sojourn in Brooklyn is to study more Whitman. The title of this blog was constructed in reference to Whitman's years in Brooklyn and his brief role as editor of The Brooklyn Eagle. My modest hopes with the blog are to view and describe the Brooklyn/New York/American scene in the 21st century like Whitman did in the 19th century. Of course, there is no possible way I can describe them as Whitman did because his poetry is incomparable. More on Whitman in later blog entries.

In the afternoon I took the MTA to midtown Manhattan and spent 2+ hours at the Museum of Modern Art. I have a plan to learn more about modern art by working my way through MOMA's galleries and taking advantage of their audio programs and gallery talks. MOMA is a vibrant, beautiful setting and in my two trips here I am already struck by the number of young enthusiasts who take advantage of its resources. Attractive, thin, in their 20's and 30's, all in slim pants and dark-hued clothes and very international. I was able to tag along with NYU students as they were given a gallery talk by an incredibly thin curator (who dared to wear black leather pants) As we stopped to learn about Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon I was struck by how the generation I see at MOMA will be the next to shake up our conceptions of visual expression with revolutionary and controversial work. The MOMA galleries are designed to illustrate the movements in art and the influences that artists had on each other. Seeing Picasso's cubist period works hung next to Georges Braques' paintings is a dramatic illustration of the manner in which artist's accelerate each other's growth. I was reminded that this morning I scoffed at Maureen Dowd's column on the future of 3D and I realized that I am a late adaptor to many movements in the visual and musical art world and ideas are even more rapidly acclerated through the internet. Looking backward, I will continue to try to build up my knowledge of the historical mentors to today's artists by working my way through MOMA. I worked my way through galleries 1-6 of the 24 galleries that are just devoted to the beginnings of modern art (1880's to 1970's) so I have many pleasant visits ahead of me.

I need to acknowlege how technology has enhanced my experience as a lone adventurer in New York with my iPhone. I don't hesitate to go out and explore and then have a dinner by myself now that I have it in my pocket. I had a cozy dinner of crepes and chocolate mousse while the snow pummeled the mid-town streets and I began reading Cutting for Stone which had been recommended by Karin and which I find fascinating in its early chapters. My iPhone Kindle books get me through all my meals and travel in the subway-what bliss. I hope that my blog readers are also able to take advantage of technology, because I have discovered I can share my experiences with you by linking you to videos and audios of the performances or the artwork that I am having the good fortune to see and hear through the links on these entries.

I ventured back out in the snowstorm to Carnegie Hall to attend the Emanuel Ax concert celebrating Chopin and Schumann at 200. I sat in the nosebleed heights of the balcony and Ax looked almost as small pedestrians do on the street below my 11th floor apartment (I think he was six floors below me). But I was able to hear each note as clearly as if he were fifty feet in front of me. It must be the career counselor in me that I can't refrain from thinking about the development of the young artist's work and becoming fascinated by the role of their life experiences and of peer influences. In the 19th century, a top pianist would compose his own works to highlight his technical skills. Liszt and Chopin were closed friends and especially known for their technically demanding brilliant solo works . Liszt was a bit of a rock star and enjoyed the adulation of large audiences, but Chopin was intimidated by the audience and "asphyxiated by its eager breath". Born the same year as Chopin (1810), Schumann also wrote his own music but he lacked the brilliant technique for his own work and spent most of his short life as a music critic. As such he proclaimed Chopin a genius and the two were able to meet for a short visit when they were 25. Ax performed Chopin Mazurka's and the Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise, composed between Chopin's 20th and 25th years. I included the YouTube video of Artur Rubinstein's performance of this piece because it includes the actual sheet music so one can appreciate the complexity of the Polonaise. And there is a wonderful story about how Ax slept outside Carnegie Hall as a young man so that he could see Rubenstein, so I think Ax appreciates this performance also.

The Fantasiestucke Op 12 by Schumann was another wonderful performance and moved me even more as I learned that he composed it at the age of 26 after a serious bout of the melancholy (depression) that would eventually kill him. As I explore the contributions of the world's great artists, whether they are poets, painters or musicians, I find myself becoming as involved with the details of their lives as I am with their output. Life is incredibly difficult for any sensitive person-to be able to produce great works or art that move thousands of people two hundred years after your personal hardships is an unbelievable feat.

An Education- Part 1 Faure's Requiem and Bartok's String Quartet #2

If you haven't seen An Education, nominated for an Oscar this year, I recommend it. It describes the "education" of a bright, impressionable high school girl in London in the late 1960's who allows herself to be seduced by an older man because he can provide the "education" she craves-music, art and literature.

Well, no one is going to seduce me so I'm trying to get my own cultural education while I'm here in New York. To that end, I've started going out to concerts given by excellent performers but in smaller venues than my usual Lincoln Center fare. I described the Renee Fleming event in yesterday's blog. Thursday night I went up to a church on the upper East side for a concert by the Voices of Ascension Chorus and Orchestra. This choral group has been producing wonderful choral performances for 20 years. Most of the performers are professional singers; the beauty of New York is that there is so much talent that even the smaller venues are first rate. I've always wanted to hear the Faure Requiem so this was the perfect, cheap opportunity ($10 for a seat on a side aisle). The combination of voices, orchestra and the "beautiful new Schoenstein" organ in the church was, well, heavenly.

Friday night we had tickets for the Musicians from Marlboro concert at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. One of Greg's colleagues recommended this event which is the touring extension of the Marlboro Music Festival from Vermont. Attending the Marlboro summer program is akin to a music fellowship and prior graduates have included Murray Perahia, Yefin Bronfman, Andras Schiff and Peter Serkin. These young performers were so talented and passionate about their performance. The Bartok string quartet looked incredibly difficult and required exquisite timing and energy. I've not heard much Bartok before, but based on last night's performance I am going to look for opportunities to hear more in the future.

Since I was going to the Met I arrived two hours early and spent some time in a few galleries. I saw the Velazquez Rediscovered exhibit, which was really just an demonstration of how the Met's curatorial staff had been able to identify a painting in their collection (but not displayed) as a Velazquez portrait from the 17th century. The explanation of how paintings can be altered by improper curatorial techniques and its history can be uncovered by careful techniques was worth the trip. You can save yourself the trip by going to the link if you are interested in expanding your own art history background.

So I spent today planning out future trips to the Met, MOMA and other galleries and looking for other "small" concerts. As I begin to expose myself to music and art I can tell that I am pulling the information together into my own "World Culture 101" course. And going back to school is great fun for an old lady.

The Mastersinger-Renee Fleming

One of the great pleasures of my semester in New York is the ability to go to "smaller" events and when I learned that the Metropolitan Opera Guild was having a night with Renee Fleming I made sure I got a ticket. Renee Fleming is my favorite opera singer and so, like many in the audience, I enjoyed this lovefest. I want to know why she looks younger and more beautiful as she ages. She really was not as striking when she began her career. I suspect she just manages her image more now and that's fine with me. I have an emotional, visceral reaction to Renee Fleming in part, I suspect, because she reminds me of a lovely young friend of Beth's. Erin Schlather was the Ithaca High School senior class president who also had a beautiful voice and great presence. Erin died in a tragic car accident in 2004 and many people mourned her loss. Last night's event included wonderful clips of Renee Fleming's performances and an interview with her on stage. She was directly in front of me (about 8 rows) and was as beautiful, funny and articulate as she appears in other interviews. The program ended with her exquisite performance of "You'll Never Walk Alone" at the Obama Inauguration which I'll include in this link in honor of Erin and all those families who "walk through the storm".

It's All A Matter Of Balance

My fellow retiree, Karin Ash, joined me this weekend for a wonderful Sunday in New York. We went to the Upper West Side and did a little shopping at the Time Warner AOL Building. We started there because I thought the Museum of Arts and Design was in the AOL building, but it is housed in its own striking building on Columbus Circle. We were thrown a bit off balance when we walked in "MAD" and the first person we accidentally meet was a former student, James P. Those who know James will know what our meeting was like. He has not changed one iota. The reason for our visit was to see "Read My Pins" the delightful exhibit of Madeline Albright's brooches. As Secretary of State, she would signal her attitude walking into a diplomatic meeting with a carefully selected pin such as a dove of peace.

The real highlight of Karin's visit was our evening at the New York City Ballet to see The Sleeping Beauty. The Sleeping Beauty is the largest, most elaborate of the NYC Ballet's and uses over 100 people in the cast. The scenery is more elaborate than other ballets I've seen, and the costumes were out of a fairy tale. So it was a great delight to be able to share this experience with Karin and with Beth, who joined us after participating in a mini triathalon. I used to be most interested in the gymnastic leaps of the male dancers, but now I am more impressed with the strength and precision of the ballerina. The video that I've linked here describes how difficult that role of the Princess Aurora is. Our Aurora, Ashley Bouder, showed exquisite balance in the famous Rose Adagio in the first act and now that I struggle with balance in pilates I truly realize how difficult these steps are.

Our evening ended with a snack and with Beth's description of her very complicated professional and personal life. Karin and I returned home happy that we have finally reached a stage where it is easier to achieve some balance in our lives.

As We Liked It

One of the wonderful aspects of a blog is its ability to share the moment with followers. I have had many wonderful moments in Brooklyn and one was Friday evening when Greg and I went to BAM (the Brooklyn Academy of Music) to see As You Like It. Now I hope this link works the way I intended and takes you to the BAM site where there is a wonderful short video with highlights from the play. Sam Mendes directed a repertory group that "bridges" fine British and American actors. I find that the written word, or at least my written words, never do justice to the performances I've seen in New York. How does one describe in words the integration of scenery, lighting, music and most importantly the lyrical expression and body language that propels a well directed play into one's heart?

I could try to describe some of the moments that really moved me:

• Act One ends with a tableau of the death of the elderly Adam, who has been struggling with hunger, lack of shelter, and wandering in search of a home. When he is finally welcomed into the band of political exiles in Arden Forest his worn out body gives up while a kind stranger is feeding him. His was the face of all homeless and the table at which he sat could have been the Last Supper with the Apostles.


• Oliver, the brother with "power", has sent his younger brother Orlando and Adam into exile. Yet Oliver becomes powerless in Act 2 and has his head held under water while the usurping Duke Frederick seeks information. Waterboarding anyone?


• Rosalind/Ganymede is that wonderful type-a young woman disguised as a young boy. As Ganymede in cap and slouchy trousers she reminded me of Ellen Degeneres and I wonder if this was intentional by Mendes. As the beautiful bride Rosalind she reminded me of my favorite blonde who has had to deal with her share of confused, lovesick men but always emerges glowing and vibrant. (Those who know me will know who my blonde heroine is). She has learned through her experience that "Sweet are the uses of adversity"


• The melancholy Jaques ridiculing his fellow exiles while they sing, by adding his own stanza in a Bob Dylan style.

I could, but I won't, go on and on. But we can't wait to see the next selection by The Bridge Project: "The Tempest" in late February.