walking down broadway in the pouring rain, i pass a woman eating ice cream out of a cup with a spoon. she's not walking fast, despite getting soaked. that kind of sucks, i think, to not have an umbrella in this weather.
as i wait for the light to cross 19th street she catches up with me, and as she scoops up the last spoonful and tosses the cup in the trash, i notice the umbrella under her arm. i realize that she had it all along, but had made a conscious decision to forgo staying dry in favor of a frozen treat on this dreary day, since after all a body only has so many hands.
we should all make more choices like that.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
everything looks better in black and white.
only two more days to see tim burton at the MoMA. the busy, cluttered exhibit made me feel like i was getting a peek inside his head, although not everyone found it as fabulous as i did.
when i was there the other day it seemed to me that more people than usual were wearing black and white stripes.
if the crowds seem too daunting, head upstairs for a gander at the photography of henri cartier-bresson... stunning, poignant images from a long and well-traveled career, on view until june 28.
when i was there the other day it seemed to me that more people than usual were wearing black and white stripes.
if the crowds seem too daunting, head upstairs for a gander at the photography of henri cartier-bresson... stunning, poignant images from a long and well-traveled career, on view until june 28.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
un bel di, vedremo...
last week mom and i treated ourselves to an evening at the metropolitan opera... and then another at city opera.
...ah, tosca, where have you been all my life? admittedly, my addiction to opera is relatively new, but what a breath of fresh air that this title diva stabs a truly unpalatable villain before she watches her lover be executed by a firing squad and the police come to arrest her for murdering their boss. it's rather more exciting than if she had been ill and frail for three acts and then died in her bed, after somehow filling a cavernous concert hall with her voice from a supine position. and... curtain.
our puccini crawl continued two nights later at city opera with madama butterfly. after a couple of seasons at the met, city opera does seem a bit low rent, but not because of the performance. (it's more about the fact that they apparently just let people wander in whenever they want during the act, instead of exiling stragglers to the little plush dungeon with the tv monitor, which is how it should be.)
[side rant: what is up with all the clapping? when did it become normal to applaud after every solo in every act throughout the entire production? and curtain calls at each intermission? between all the applause during the acts &mdash which i believe greatly interferes with the flow of the music &mdash and the long intermissions at the met &mdash probably due to their high-tech mechanical set change equipment, new as of 2008 &mdash an evening at the opera can easily be a four-hour affair, perhaps more if wagner is involved. couldn't we just applaud at the END of the acts? didn't that used to be the protocol? these incredibly talented performers have just sung for an audience of 3800, each of whom paid top dollar to enjoy a production at the world's greatest opera house. does a diva really need MORE validation than that?]
i'll refrain from any attempt to describe the music. puccini's compositions are cerebral, yet emotional; complex but accessible. (ok so i tried to describe. oops.) the best singers in the world want to sing at the met, and city opera certainly has no small talent pool from which to select. and the wow factor doesn't stop at the singers: the sets of both shows are incredible, not to mention the costumes (the playful red ships suspended from above, the array of kimono colors in city opera's butterfly! and the severe tableaux and matrix-esque trench coats on the cops in the met's production of tosca)...
my uncle thinks the opera is slowly dying as an art form, but i hopefully disagree. i've seen plenty of young 'uns at lincoln center, particularly at city opera, which has a decidedly edgier, more modern bent. sure, it's not for everyone: the music requires an attention span, and you can't exactly tap your foot to the beat throughout the show. but if you're at all intrigued by the genre, puccini is a good way to test the waters for yourself. while he didn't write three-minute pop ditties, good ole giacomo will find a way to get stuck in your head. you may even recognize a tune or two.
and truth be told, it's an excuse to get dolled up. there just aren't that many occasions for most of us to don our classiest evening wear; your vintage mink stole and floor length black velvet gown will look right at home here. nothing says "i heart NY" like sipping champagne on the balcony at intermission in your fanciest dress. for the price of approximately six trite blockbuster movies (and up), you can dabble in luxury, and listen to beautifully complex music that has stood the test of time. but for the love of b.f. pinkerton, don't forget to turn off your cell phone during the performance.
...ah, tosca, where have you been all my life? admittedly, my addiction to opera is relatively new, but what a breath of fresh air that this title diva stabs a truly unpalatable villain before she watches her lover be executed by a firing squad and the police come to arrest her for murdering their boss. it's rather more exciting than if she had been ill and frail for three acts and then died in her bed, after somehow filling a cavernous concert hall with her voice from a supine position. and... curtain.
our puccini crawl continued two nights later at city opera with madama butterfly. after a couple of seasons at the met, city opera does seem a bit low rent, but not because of the performance. (it's more about the fact that they apparently just let people wander in whenever they want during the act, instead of exiling stragglers to the little plush dungeon with the tv monitor, which is how it should be.)
[side rant: what is up with all the clapping? when did it become normal to applaud after every solo in every act throughout the entire production? and curtain calls at each intermission? between all the applause during the acts &mdash which i believe greatly interferes with the flow of the music &mdash and the long intermissions at the met &mdash probably due to their high-tech mechanical set change equipment, new as of 2008 &mdash an evening at the opera can easily be a four-hour affair, perhaps more if wagner is involved. couldn't we just applaud at the END of the acts? didn't that used to be the protocol? these incredibly talented performers have just sung for an audience of 3800, each of whom paid top dollar to enjoy a production at the world's greatest opera house. does a diva really need MORE validation than that?]
i'll refrain from any attempt to describe the music. puccini's compositions are cerebral, yet emotional; complex but accessible. (ok so i tried to describe. oops.) the best singers in the world want to sing at the met, and city opera certainly has no small talent pool from which to select. and the wow factor doesn't stop at the singers: the sets of both shows are incredible, not to mention the costumes (the playful red ships suspended from above, the array of kimono colors in city opera's butterfly! and the severe tableaux and matrix-esque trench coats on the cops in the met's production of tosca)...
my uncle thinks the opera is slowly dying as an art form, but i hopefully disagree. i've seen plenty of young 'uns at lincoln center, particularly at city opera, which has a decidedly edgier, more modern bent. sure, it's not for everyone: the music requires an attention span, and you can't exactly tap your foot to the beat throughout the show. but if you're at all intrigued by the genre, puccini is a good way to test the waters for yourself. while he didn't write three-minute pop ditties, good ole giacomo will find a way to get stuck in your head. you may even recognize a tune or two.
and truth be told, it's an excuse to get dolled up. there just aren't that many occasions for most of us to don our classiest evening wear; your vintage mink stole and floor length black velvet gown will look right at home here. nothing says "i heart NY" like sipping champagne on the balcony at intermission in your fanciest dress. for the price of approximately six trite blockbuster movies (and up), you can dabble in luxury, and listen to beautifully complex music that has stood the test of time. but for the love of b.f. pinkerton, don't forget to turn off your cell phone during the performance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)