A Voyeur's Week-Capote and Rothko

This week I was able to spend 90 minutes each with two important American artists and join them in the "studio" where some of their most important work was done.   Of course, both are dead, but if you are willing to pay one can become a ghost voyeur in New York and still mingle with the creative spirit. Last week I shared the day with two great current American leaders; this week I shared the space with two dead American artists for the same amount of time.  I love these coincidences.

Truman Capote lived down Willow Street in Brooklyn Heights from 1955 to 1965 and while here he wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's,  In Cold Blood, and many short stories.  He had the good taste and characteristic chutzpa to take the basement apartment at one of the great old houses in Brooklyn that was owned by the wonderful stage designer, Oliver Smith.  Smith designed West Side Story, My Fair Lady, Brigadoon, Camelot and Hello Dolly, among others.  Smith bought the beautiful Van Sinderen high Greek revival house at 70 Willow which was built in 1839 and had been beautifully maintained for all these years.  As Capote tells the story in "A House in the Heights" one evening he sat with Smith on the porch in the rear "completely submerged, as though under a lake of leaves, by an ancient but admirably vigorous vine weighty with grapelike bunches of wisteria."  They shared several martinis and Smith began to see Capote's point: "yes, twenty-eight rooms were rather a lot; and yes, it only seemed fair that I should have some of them."  So yes, it only seemed right that I support the Brooklyn Heights Association and spend money to sit on Monday evening in the same house, looking out over the same porch and wisteria, and hear a local author and a local actress read from Breakfast at Tiffany's.  The house was beautiful, with a three story staircase "floating upward in white, swan-simple curves to a skylight of sunny amber-gold glass" and the readings, accompanied by guitar and "Moon River" sung by a local chanteuse, would have pleased Truman.  I had just finished reading The Heights, a novel written by our local author/reader Peter Hedges.  Peter's book received an poorly conceived, less than favorable review in Sunday's New York Times Book Review, and as he read Capote I thought about the painful exposure artists are subject to once they move their creations out of the safety of their studio into the cruel world of critics.

Mark Rothko , the "abstract expressionist" painter depicted in the new play Red, described the pain of exposing his work to the world like a parent sending their child into a playground with razor sharp dangers. This afternoon I sat with him and his assistant in his studio in 1958 as he worked on the exquisite "Red" series of murals that he originally was going to place in the Four Seasons restaurant in the new Seagram's Building as a commission for the architects Philip Johnson and Mies van der Rohe.  Greg and I saw these evocative paintings in the "new" Tate Museum when we were in England in 2007 and were pulled into each painting, feeling more than seeing a color that was more than red (black, brown, maroon, mauve ) in these all-enveloping abstract paintings.  So to be allowed to watch their creation and listen to Alfred Molina, as Rothko, challenge us to understand painting was an honor-even if I did have to pay for it.  The play takes the audience through the creation of a painting, from the stretching of the canvas, to the mixing of colors, to just looking at its stages of creation.   In one memorable scene Rothko and his assistant prime the canvas in a wild dance of color and movement and one could see multiple shades of red evolve with the soaring music of an opera.  We also are exposed to Rothko's imperiousness, huge intellect, solipsistic viewpoint and disdain for the general, non-art public.  I learned a lot, from the safety of my voyeur's seat in Row O, Seat 16, and will carry his lessons with me in my future visits to MOMA.  Molina and the young actor Eddie Redmayne gave riveting performances and were supported by the almost alive series of the Red "Seagrams" mural.

"Where Do We Get Such Men?"

On Thursday I had a rather unique, coincidental, experience of seeing two great Americans on the same day. In the morning I witnessed President Obama's entry to Manhattan for his speech at Cooper Union on the pending legislation for financial reform of Wall Street.  The East River heliport is directly opposite our apartment and my ears first noted that there were no incoming helicopters.  It's odd how a lack of noise can be a sound in itself.  I glanced outside and noticed a few police boats and then realized that they must be prepping for Obama's visit.  I watched the preparations for over 90 minutes, standing much of the time with my camera at the ready. More boats and even a Coast Guard cutter assembled.  Periodically a NYPD helicopter surveyed the area.   I assumed that if his speech was at 11:05 (as indicated on the White House web site) he'd land around between 10 and 10:30 but I discovered that Presidents can arrive when they want to, and his helicopter didn't land until around 11:30 (unfortunately my camera clock is not set properly so I don't have the accurate time).  I had waited so long, and so patiently, that I called Greg excitedly when the first green army helicopters (shown on the right) landed and told him Obama had landed.  Then I went to use the toilet, which I had put off for 90 minutes, only to hear the chop, chop, chop of new helicopters.  I realized "holy moley...those weren't the presidential helicopters I saw" and rushed back out in disarray to take several photos of the more impressive presidential helicopters.  The photo is from a distance and everyone looks like little dots.  But this is a digital picture and I can zoom in and see an out- of-focus Obama stepping off the helicopter.  The disturbing realization was that if I could zoom in on our President with a Nikon D80, it would be easier than we'd like to think for someone in any of these apartments to zoom in with something more sinister.  Obama is just getting his stride and accomplishing great things- I truly believe he will have an historic presidency but worry that he will be harmed and not able to complete his destiny. 

Thursday evening I went up to the 92nd Street Y to hear a conversation between General David Petraeus and Richard Haas (of the Council on Foreign Relations).  The "conversation" was introduced by Richard Holbrook, the current special representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan.  This was an excellent opportunity to get updated on the current situation from the perspective of the military and the Obama administration.  I had read an excellent overview of Petraeus by Mark Bowden in the current issue of Vanity Fair prior to the event so I had a bit more appreciation for this military leader than I would have otherwise.  The 92nd Street Y is not Fox News and the audience are typically New York liberals.  There were a handful of protesters outside.   Yet Petraeus is an impressive, thoughtful, intelligent military leader who firmly believes in his counter-insurgency stragegy and with it  transparency and respect for the civilian.  Earlier this week I caught Dexter Filkins on NPR's Fresh Air with Terri Gross.  Filkin's is a NY Times war correspondent and I've always been impressed with his dispatches from Iraq and Afghanistan and I was especially impressed by one observation on Fresh Air.  Filkins talked about being imbedded with a unit in the current Marjan offensive.  This platoon had just missed being blasted by an IED.  Yet while these young men were talking to local citizens, Filkins says they were impeccably courteous and respectful.  Filkins said it was dramatic evidence of how the new counter-insurgency policy was being transmitted all the way down the lines. Having heard this very dramatic story on Tuesday, I was prepared to be impressed by Petraeus on Thursday.  And I was-he was humble, funny, forthright and used a lot of Power Points!  I'm sure this was a big public relations campaign but it was very effective. I know some of my readers believe we should withdraw immediately, but I am prepared to respect the judgment of President Obama, David Petraeus, Richard Holbrook and Hillary Clinton on the very dangerous political/military situation in that volatile part of the world.

The title for this blog entry was taken from the Bridges of Toko-ri and used by the President of the 92nd Street Y when he introduced David Petraeus.  From what I've learned about him recently, I was inclined to agree with the rhetorical question.  But not everyone does, and when he moved to his next sentence "I'm proud to introduce General David Petraeus" a young man two rows in front of me jumped up and shouted "War Criminal!"  His outburst was not appreciated by the liberal audience, which says something for the respect in which the 92nd Street Y was willing to have for this conversation.

Weekend in Brooklyn Heights and Lincoln Center and Times Square-

1834 Federal Home at 134 Joralemon

This weekend Greg and I participated in three of our favorite activities.  Friday evening we went to dinner at Cafe Luxembourg for steak frites and profiteroles (hot fudge Sundae for Greg) followed by a concert at Lincoln Center featuring Ricardo Muti and the New York Philharmonic.  The concert was good, but not great and Greg was tired so we left at the intermission.  This was a fortuitous decision because the 1-2-3 line was totally shut down going downtown and it was pouring rain.  We were able to find the single cab that was available.  Had we left at 10 with the regular crowd we might still be wandering forlorn and waterlogged on the Upper West Side.

Saturday I went (solo) to a matinee performance of Next to Normal.  This musical won several Tony's last year and just won the Pulitzer Prize this week.  I got my seats from the convenient Brooklyn office ofTKTS and had fantastic third row seats.  The plot involves the highs and lows of a family of four whose mother suffers from bipolar illness as well as other mental disabilities that are slowly revealed during the play.  Alice Ripley won a Tony for her portrayal of the mother, Diana, and she was electric in this performance as were the entire cast.  Watching the entire family deal with the pain and uncertainty that accompanies this illness hit home for me and I had teary eyes and a tight throat from the opening scenes.  I can't imagine how Alice Ripley exposes Diana's emotional roller coaster 8 times a week; her performance was amazing.

1893 Queen Anne-Hicks Row

Sunday Greg and I went on a guided walk of Brooklyn Heights with an architect who provided us with both explanations of the different styles that can be found in BH, the history of the neighborhood, and an appreciation for the efforts of the historic preservationists who saved this neighborhood during the mid 20th century from both Robert Moses' plans for the BQE expressway and real estate developers' goals to tear down the history and build up new apartments. So now on our cigar walks we'll be able to compare the authentic Federal with the Greek Revival, Italianate, Renaissance Revival, Queen Anne, Romanesque and ultimately the dreaded "re-muddled" Brownstones.

 Greek Revival 120 Willow

Soprano Sorceress Bewitches Ithaca Country Mouse

Monday evening was my last Met premiere for the year and the evening was a wonderful combination of beautiful sound, vibrant color, and exciting star-sighting.  If I am using rather simplistic vocabulary for this entry, I think it's because I've been overwhelmed and intimidated by the opera cognescenti who have posted on blogs about Renee Fleming's performance in Rossini's Armida.  While I've linked to some of the opinions on a new opera blog that I've learned about called Parterre, I prefer to tell you that I really enjoyed the performance although it was not my favorite Renee Fleming performance-I think Rusalka takes that honor.  I also am not a fan of coloratura and trills, preferring a radiant, straight vocal line in lyrical passages.  Armida is a demanding role which requires both lyrical singing and extensive coloratura which runs from high notes to low.   Renee Fleming bewitched me with her performance and Anthony Tommasini agrees that the Armida belongs at the Met and with Renee Fleming they have the right soprano for a soprano's tour de force.

The Mary Zimmerman production used fantastic color and exotic costumes to create the seductive world of a sorceress's island during the Crusades. ( I've been transported to a number of islands and sorcery this year with Armida-on a grand Met scale and The Tempest-on a clever BAM scale.)  The first act juxtaposed blinding white walls with glimpses of fortresses and golden minarets in the background.  The Crusaders were dashing in their long red robes with gold helmets. I could imagine this taking place in some of the ruins we saw in Acre Israel-before 1000 years had diminshed their majesty.  Unfortunately, the Times' photo slide show does not capture any photos from the first act, so you'll have to take my word for it.  The magnificent scrim which featured a brilliant blue storm tossed ocean is also not in any photo-alas-it makes me want to cheat and take photos at the performance.   But if you view the slide show you'll see lots of Armida's sorcery and the magic that Zimmerman designed for this new production. 

I went solo to this premiere so what did Greg miss?  He missed six (count them-6!) excellent tenors and the only tenor Trio in all of opera. He missed a second act ballet that I loved but would have bored him.  He missed my excited star sighting:  Christine Baranski AND Julianna Margulies of The Good Wife were both right next to me and I could check out their make-up, hair and dresses up close. ( I have to confess that it was great fun when I heard Julianna introduce her husband to a mutual friend since when she said "This is my husband" it sounded just like a line from The Good Wife.  And she is really beautiful).  And had Greg attended he would have reminded to me bring my opera glasses which I lost.  I bet Armida whisked them away when I wasn't looking.

Uncle Vanya

A blended family tries to co-exist under one roof in a country estate.  There is a lot of tension, aggravated by unreasonable expectations, deferred dreams, financial worries, spinsterhood, aging and declining health.  The dialogue is all in Russian and the stage consists merely of "space" and doors, a table, and chairs.  Yet this was one of the best plays that Greg and I have seen and definitely the best Chekov production that we've seen (and we've seen two other highly reviewed productions of The Seagull and The Cherry Orchard in the past five years.)  It has stayed with us and engendered much thought and even anxiety.  We've seen these people before and felt their pain.

The production of Uncle Vanya at BAM was by the Maly Drama Theatre of St. Petersburg and the Russian cast obviously had Chekov in their blood.  We found that listening to the Russian while reading the supertitles added to our appreciation of Chekov's lyricism.  We were amazed at how topical this play, first performed in 1889, remains.  Vanya has managed his family's estate at the expense of his own ambition, loyally and resentfully sending proceeds to support his brother-in-law, Professor "Alexander" Serebriakov.  Professor Alexander is adored by all the women-Vanya's mother, his niece Sonya, and Alexander's second wife Elena, the woman Vanya realizes he has loved for years. (Alexander had been married to Vanya's sister and Sonya's mother who died).  Professor Alexander is sick with gout and arthritis, unhappy in his retirement, and faced with the realization that after all these years in academia no one really cares about his work. Ouch.  Meanwhile, the family friend Doctor Astrov is falling in love with Elena and is loved by plain Sonya, who has also sacrificed her life to support her father.  Astrov  also has a passion for helping people through his medicine and as an environmentalist, but despairs that no one cares about what will happen to their world in  100 years.  The peasants and landowners are just ekeing out their existence in the moment. And the audience, 100 years from the time of the play was written, know that his fears were justified.

The director, Lev Dodin, wrote a beautiful commentary in the program which I'll quote here because I can't do the play justice:  "Life flows by, and sooner or later a man begins to see his years lived as a treasure he didn't manage to put to good use. He starts to see visions of other possible but unlived lives.  In these other lives all his secret dreams come true, all his hopes are fulfilled, all his sweetest fantasies become real.  The man furiously burns up the past, denies the present, and gives himself completely to this other life which he could have lived, but didn't manage to.  The fuller the man undestands life, the sharper he feels this gap, this contradiction which grows into a tragedy.  Time goes by and gradually you are faced with a choice-to either refuse this life completely, or to find courage to live out the life given to you by God and fate, which you've been carrying out-alone-with your will power and personality. (My italics).

This is a  tragi-comedy and there were certainly many lighter moments in the play.   Finally,though, it is Sonya's faith and resilience that ends the play with a vision of the courage that Chekov says is required to live in this world. 

Practice Makes Perfect-A Tale of Multiple Conductors and Great Orchestras

One advantage of attending so many musical productions is that I am slowly learning more about the art and business of classical music.  Last week the big news in the opera world was the disappointing performance by the conductor Leonard Slatkin in La Traviata. Apparently he even admitted on his blog that he didn't know the entire score so that at the first performance that he conducted he had his principal stars, Angelina Gheorgiu and Thomas Hampson desperately looking back at the orchestra to try to understand why he was wreaking havoc with the tempo.  "I have seldom heard such faulty coordination between a conductor and a cast at the Met" said the Times critic Anthony Tommasini .  That was enough for Greg, who promptly decided to back out of going to La Traviata with me...or perhaps the fact that the Final Four was on the same evening that he used this as an excuse.  So once again I was able to take a more appreciative Beth to our favorite 3 handkerchief romantic opera.  That first performance was on Monday evening (3/29).  Slatkin withdrew from future productions and so on Saturday (4/3) Beth and I were able to see a good production conducted by the workhorse Marco Armiliato who had to conduct Aida that same day. Since I was paying attention to the drama behind the change in conductors,  I was able to appreciate how difficult it must be to conduct La Traviata and how carefully the conductor must balance Verdi's music, which can have an Oom-pah-pah quality, with the dramatic arias that make this opera so famous.  Apparently this event got Thommasini to also ponder how one's Verdi "chops" can be tested by La Traviata in an intriguing follow-up article. 

Perhaps Antonio Pappano wanted to ensure that he didn't suffer the same fate that befell Slatkin for he was intensively demanding at the New York Philharmonic Open Rehearsal that I attended Wednesday (4/7)  This was the fourth open rehearsal I've attended this year (and the fourth conductor) and Pappano was by far the most particular as he worked through the piece with the members of the orchestra.  Pappano is the principal conductor for the Royal Covent Opera and has an excellent reputation.  He continually challenged the orchestra and made them stop and repeat sections over and over again.  This meant that the audience didn't get to hear a full, uninterrupted performance but in many ways this was a fuller experience for me because I could hear important sections repeated.  And since this was Brahm's Symphony #4 in E minor I loved to hear it repeated over and over again.  But I marvelled at the orchestra.  How they could pick up at "Bar 115"  or "Bar 142" and have all the instruments in sync with each other?  You'd think someone would miss a beat or hit the wrong note.  But I sure didn't hear it.  Pappano was pushing for subtleties in expression and sound that one could expect from a world class orchestra and,  as I later learned from the review,  for an operatic lyricism.  I wish I could have seen the actual performance but was happy to have heard this rehearsal.

And then, the other news was that James Levine, one of our favorite conductors, is once again waylaid with a bad back and will have to cancel numerous performances, including I fear the opening night at Tanglewood to which we had just purchased tickets.  Reading about the details of his contract with both the Met and the Boston Symphony, and about how they are now scrambling for substitute conductors, emphasized for me how each performance that I see requires the efforts of many performers and administrators.  I will think very carefully about going to a concert to see one performer in the future; I will make my decision based on multiple factors to protect against disappointment when a specific performer is a no-show.  But I've also learned that these great musical institutions (The Met, the New York Philharmonic, the Boston Symphony) are so professional that they can survive these setbacks.

An Easter Triduum

It has only been in the past several years that I've rediscovered the rituals of the beautiful Easter Triduum that are at the center of my Catholic faith and traditions.  The three days that begin with Holy Thursday, continue through Good Friday and are completed with the Easter celebration commemorate the soul of our faith.  I thought that I would be unable to share in this tradition this year, since I wasn't in Ithaca where I am used to attending services.  But I discovered three wonderful services that brought fresh insights and new understanding for me.  I was drawn to these services for superficial, secular, reasons-they promised good music.  I left them fulfilled because of the messages that the congregations and celebrants shared with me.

For Holy Thursday I celebrated the Mass of the Lord's Supper at the Church of St. Francis Xavier in Chelsea, pictured above.  I was struck by what a beautiful church this was the minute I walked in the door.  The choir and music director had a  program of music that suited the Mass making it both intimate and majestic: the prelude of the Samuel Barber's Adagio for Stings, played on the organ was movingly appropriate for the occasion.  When the procession began it included wonderfully diverse members of the congregation led by a woman who carried the incense in a large silver bowl.  She wore a flowing white gown, and bare feet, and could have been Mary Magdalene at the Last Supper.  One of the highlights of the Mass of the Lord's Supper is the commemorative Washing of Feet.  I'm used to seeing the priest choose 12 members of the congregation as he alone recreated Jesus' act.  But on this night chairs were set up all around the church and we all particpated (or those who chose to).  We stood in line and after we washed someone's foot we would sit down and have our foot washed.  For the first time I really felt an active participant in the tradition that began at the first Lord's supper.  The remainder of the service continued with this combination of wonderful music, active participation by all the congragation, and a living liturgy.

On Good Friday I went to St. Patrick's Cathedral for a service titled The Seven Last Word's.  Once again I was attracted for superficial reasons because there was to be music and the timing was good for me.  Imagine my surprise when I looked at the program and learned it was to be "three hours reflection on the passion and death of Jesus Christ."  I started to make plans for a quiet escape after an hour. Yet I stayed for the entire three hours and reflected and meditated in a more intensive way than I have at any other Good Friday service.   My meditation began that morning when I tried to determine what Jesus' seven last words were.  Like many Catholics, I haven't studied the Bible well and when I began to review the four versions of the Passion (by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) I realized the tremendous difference in their accounts.  Last year I read What the Gospels Meant by Gary Wills and it was the first time I truly appreciated how each of the accounts was developed during the early years of the church.  So on Good Friday, having taken a close look at the four different accounts of the Crucifixion, the meditations offered by Archbishop Dolan made a greater impact.  The service was broken into seven parts and each part was introduced by excerpts from these passion stories-most from John but one each from Mark and Luke.  After "The First (or Second, or Third) Word(s) there would be a response, a reflection, music by the choir, and music that the congregation participated in.  The choir performed selections from a piece by Cesar Franck titled The Seven Last Words

It seemed fated that Greg would decide he wanted to go to an Easter service that included music and he chose the Church of St. Francis Xavier as our destination.  Beth had spent the night with us and so the three of us had an early breakfast and headed back up to Chelsea.  It was a glorious,warm, perfect spring day.  We arrived a bit early and dallied over coffee nearby.  That was almost a mistake because when we returned the church was completely filled-but Someone was taking care of us because we found three folding chairs on the side that offered us the best view of the service and the choir.  Once again the congregation and the Jesuit priest who conducted the service were glowing with joy and it was contagious.  We soon learned why-the Triduum were the first services conducted in the newly restored church.  They had just completed a massive campaign to renovate and restore a 130 year old church.  What a magnificent job they did and we were so moved by their beautiful Easter service.  I'll close with one of my favorite moments-the choral rendering of the Psalm 118 was done by their music director, John Uehlein.  He just beamed as his chorus sang his notes with such energy and joy and the entire congregation joined in to proclaim:  "Today is the day and now is the time for joy and gladness and the great I AM."