Monday, March 28, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Monday, March 21, 2005
Perhaps even more urgent than meeting Steve (see earlier post) is the need to meet Irja & Lucille. This is a fabulous documentary that cuts through the pathos of aging. If you need a reminder of how many common heroes make the world go around, check these two out. Brilliantly conceived.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Europe marks anniversary of Iraq invasion
Saturday March 19, 2005
"From London's Trafalgar Square to the streets of Istanbul, tens of thousands of people across Europe protested against the Iraq war today on the second anniversary of the US-led invasion."
Photo from the 2003 anti-war demonstrations here in NYC.
Friday, March 18, 2005
If you've never heard her speak, you should. Click here. It's quite unexpected, her voice, I mean. Very Victorian. Clearly Nicole Kidman did not study it in preparation... There is a rhythm to it that seems very much like her line. Giving yes, but playing it out too, enjoying the pull and tug of syntax and really hearing, hearing, the grittiness of the words. Perhaps that's what surprised me. I couldn't resist photoshopping this ubiquitous image.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
"Just in case you were wondering, Mozart does not need pruning..."
"Thank you Mr.__ for pointing out the sound of a double t and a double r. The problem is there is neither a double t nor a double r..."
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
To Leonard Woolf, February 19, 1909
"The day before yesterday I proposed to Virginia. As I did it, I saw that it would be death if she accepted me, and I managed, of course, to get out of it before the end of the conversation. The worst of it was that as the conversations went on, it became more and more obvious that the whole thing was impossible. The lack of understanding was so terrific! And how can a virgin be expected to understand? You see she is her name. If I were either greater or less I could have done it and I could either have dominated and soared and at last made her completely mine, or I could have been contented to go without everything that makes life important. Voilà! It was, as you may imagine, an amazing conversation. Her sense was absolute, and at times her supremacy was so great that I quavered.
I think there's no doubt whatever that you ought to marry her. You would be great enough, and you'd have too the immense advantage of physical desire. I was in terror lest she should kiss me. If you came and proposed she'd accept. She really really would. "
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Frederico Guida was my favourite discovery last night. This wasn't his best painting, but I neglected to bring my digital. There was a series of portraits like this, of people in his neighbourhood in San Marino, Italy. Absolutely burning. The actual brushstokes are much more precise than the quality of this photo (lifted from the exhibit site) shows.
What fun--six floors of a hotel in mid-town turned into one big international gallery. Each room devoted to a different artist/gallery, so it's like going from Frankfurt to Miami, Toronto to Paris, and seeing art on the walls, sculpture on beds, photographs hanging from clotheslines in bathrooms. By the way, Flatotel looks to be not a bad stay for mid-town, though why anyone wants to stay in mid-town is beyond me. I guess it's exciting, but expensive, otherworldly, and so noisy and bright, but yes, I suppose it's a bit of a rush.
Afterward drinks at The Algonquin--that bastion of good service and mediocre cocktails. Quite a world apart from the sharp edges of the altern-a-art world, but a great mid-town oasis.
By Phyllis Diller with Richard Buskin.
Illustrated. 266 pp. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin. $24.99
"PYLLIS DILLER was first thought to be a tumor. Upon discovering that the mass in her mother's uterus was a fetus, the doctor declared her an ''ugly-looking little thing!'' Her father said, ''Leave it in,'' and on July 17, 1917, she was born at home on newspapers. Growing up, she never got hugs or kisses from her parents, who were so old that her memories of family life are attending aunts' and uncles' funerals. She felt wanted only by her dolls. Decades later, she would joke onstage: ''My parents had to tie a pork chop around my neck to make the dog play with me. . . . When I was kidnapped they wouldn't pay the ransom -- they didn't want to break a ten.''
Friday, March 11, 2005
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Listen to Sontag.