Manhattan Bridge

As Manhattan begins to be overwhelmed by shoppers, it was time to retreat for another walk on a bridge, this time the Manhattan Bridge, which is very close to the Brooklyn Bridge.   It is more or less ugly;  the bridge is undistinguished, and you are mostly surrounded by fences and so forth.  In addition, the pedestrian path runs right next to the subway tracks, which makes for considerable noise and shaking.  That said, it was still a wonderful and interesting walk, starting from the mostly high rise modern section of downtown Brooklyn, and ending up in the heart of Chinatown.

I took lots of pictures...

Some detail on the bridge:

A view of a beach and weddings in the new Brooklyn Bridge park:

Walking next to the subways:

 A very peculiar building, with Manhattan towers in the background:

More rooftop grafitti and towers

I never knew that rooftops were a good place for grafitti:

Grafitti on the bridge:

Subway tracks:

Geri Allen

Last night we heard the jazz pianist Geri Allen in a quartet at a club called the Jazz Standard.  The quartet was the pianist Allen, a bassist, a drummer, and a tap dancer, Maurice Chestnut.   The tap dancer was there as an instrumentalist, and functioned as a musician in the quartet.  While this sounded very odd at first, with the sound of the taps jarring with the very traditional sound of a piano trio, I gradually became used to it, and by the end, with a vigorous duet between the drummer and the tap dance, I was enjoying the combination.  Allen is a wonderful pianist, mostly in the mainstream, but with a delightful quirkiness and sometimes a very delicate touch.   At a certain point, I was listening to one of the numbers, and realized it had evolved into  "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" .   You haven't lived until you have heard "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" performed by a jazz piano trio and tap dancer.  Perhaps my only Christmas concert of the year...

The Romanian Film Festival

The other night, we went to the opening night of the Romanian Film Festival, mostly to see the film, and partially to see what the crowd was like.   The film, "Of Men and Snails", was a kind of Romanian version of "The Full Monty";  set in 1992, it chronicles the attempt of some workers to save their factory from being shut down.  They propose to raise money to buy the factory by donating sperm to a sperm bank (Romanian humor!).  The French buyers pretend to propose to turn the factory into a snail canning facility.   It was entertaining, but didn't really have the pitch black humor that we enjoy in contemporary Romanian films.  But not coming to a theater near you.   And we got to see Romanian film stars and directors.

Wanderings in the Metropolitan Museum

I went to the Metropolitan Museum the other day to see a  small exhibit of Klee paintings.   (The Met has quite a large collection of them.)   They are wonderful to see in person, because the texture and character never really come across in reproductions.  It is surprising to me how delightfully messy Klee's work is.  In one painting, the canvas is nailed to the frame, and the nails are not painted over.  There are sometimes little punctures, leftover globs of paint, and the painting board itself may be warped.  And the lines, of course, are never straight.

I took a quick look at the new Matisse show, which received rave reviews in the NY Times, but there were so many people there that one could barely see the paintings.

Then I wandered, and saw a small exhibit about the interaction of American artists and African art in the early 20th century; different from the European story that we know, because African art also became an inspiration for African-American artists.

Then I saw this Mayan 8th century painted limestone, which made me think of Klee in its color palette and texture.

Then, an icon painting, which turns out to be from 17th century Ethiopia.  I never would have guessed.

I can never get tired of wandering in the Met.

The Barnes Collection

Over Thanksgiving, we were in Philadelphia, which gave us an opportunity to visit the Barnes Collection in its new home in Philadelphia.  This collection, established by the eccentric American art collector Albert Barnes, was for a long time in its specially built home in suburban Philadelphia, existing under the terms of Barnes's will, which specified that basically nothing could ever be changed, or lent, etc.  After much legal wrangling, the collection was moved to a newly built museum, where the architects were charged with the task of recreating the original installation, a recipe for failure if there ever was one.  Astonishingly, it is a great success; the highly eccentric arrangements of art and objects have been recreated in a beautifully lit reconstructions of the original rooms. The art includes about 70 Cezannes, a seemingly infinite number of Renoirs, and major works by Matisse, Seurat, and others.

What is still problematic is Barnes's penchant for symmetrical arrangements of paintings.  While I like the juxtaposition of art from different periods, the idea of arranging paintings in symmetrical pairings seems to detract from the from the works themsleves and call attention to Barnes's ideas instead.

Some examples:

(Pictures not by me; forbidden)
Also note the various items of hardware interspersed between the paintings.
In some cases, like Seurat's "Models", the work is hung above another painting, so that is is barely visible.   I don't think that  because a person acquired great works of art in his lifetime he is able to dictate for posterity the way in which we are able to view them.  Hopefully, at some point, the Barnes Collection will countenance a gradual rearrangement.

Wozzeck

Last night we heard Berg's opera "Wozzeck" in a concert performance with the Philharmonia Orchestra and Esa-Pekka Salonen conducting.  It was yet another astonishing rendition from this ensemble, and a truly memorable performance.  Berg's opera emerged as truly expressionist in this performance; a virtual nightmare from beginning to end that left us exhausted.  Though it was a concert performance, all the singers sang from memory and acted their roles convincingly, even dressed in their concert attire.   Because this is  a "symphonic opera", the increased presence of an on stage orchestra made it even more symphonic.  The famous crescendo on the note "B" was about the loudest thing I have ever heard from an orchestra.  I did miss some of the effects of a staged version; for instance, the "snoring" chorus strikes you unexpectedly when you are not in the visual realm of a darkened barracks.  And Berg's onstage orchestra effects were meaningless in this context.

Some pictures:

(From Lincoln Center, I didn't take them)

Another thing that struck me in this performance is the extent to which Berg uses so many traditional elements in this opera;  ranging from folk songs and marches to fugues. All these are transformed through his expressionist vision, but remain a musically grounding focus during what is an hour and a half of extremely dense and nightmarish music.    I remain in awe of how Berg was ever able to create and realize this vision.

After 5 concerts in 7 days, I am ready for a break!

An amusing encounter

Last spring, when we went to hear the Ring Cycle at the Met, there was a rather eccentric woman who shared our partial view box with us, and with whom we had the occasional scuffle regarding box space and the subtitle displays.  She would always arrive about 1 minute before the curtain, carrying an number of bags, and was frequently on her feet to get a better look at the stage. We found out she had seen all three performances of the Ring.
       When we got our tickets for the Tempest this fall, we ended up in exactly the same box.  We joked as we arrived, at least our lady friend won't be here.  At 1 minute before the curtain, she arrived.  Maybe she goes every night?
        Then, last night, as we stood up from our seats in Fisher Hall after the Mahler, there she was again, sitting in the seats right behind us!   It turns out she goes to orchestral concerts too!  (Edit:  She was there for Wozzeck, too.)

Mahler 9

Tonight we heard a performance of Mahler's 9th, with the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen.  It was amazing.   Vera, who is rumored to know something about Mahler, thought it was the best Mahler performance she has ever heard. The orchestra played with fearsome intensity and precision, and Salonen's conducting brought out all the intricate details in Mahler's scores that others smooth out.  Dissonant inner voices, jarring juxtapostions, and Mahler's unique orchestrations were all very audible.  There is really nothing like hearing a work like this performed live by an orchestra of this caliber.  I am becoming an orchestral junkie!

And tomorrow night, the same forces will be performing "Wozzeck".

Williamsburg

 Last week I went to Williamsburg in Brooklyn, which I haven't been to in years.  Williamsburg is now known as the hippest area of NY, where all the younger types go to live and hang out, and where the latest restaurants are.  How hip is Williamsburg?  When I stopped to get a coffee at a coffee joint, the barista, after serving me, when over to the cafe's turntable, and put on an LP of the Rolling Stones "Beggars Banquet".  How many coffee shops do you know that play vinyl?   (Though it is debatable whether geezer rock can really be hip...)

Williamsburg is mostly very low rise architecture, with very little of the predominant historic details that characterize area like Brooklyn Heights and Park Slope.  But a interesting mix of styles, nonetheless.   Some Long Island style renovations...(vinyl siding?)

The most fun, though, was walking back to Manhattan on the Williamsburg Bridge, which was the longest suspension bridge in the world for 20 years, and lives in the shadow of its more famous neighbor.   It has a great pedestrian walkway, for some reason painted in pink.  You walk above the cars, and slightly parallel and above the subway lines.  It lands you in Manhattan in the middle of the Lower East Side.

Some pictures  (click to enlarge):

Graffitti, chain link fences and pink railings at the beginning:

The Empire State Building framed:

Strange metal things:

The walkway in pink, with decorations;

The end, as you descend to Manhattan:

The official nameplate for the bridge, as reconfigured by New Yorkers:

Some buildings in Manhattan, as you get off the bridge;

A building in Chinatown, with all windows filled with boxes:

Brahms, part 2

I heard the NY Philharmonic play Brahms 3rd and 4th symphonies in a concerto-free program on Friday night, conducted by the very frail Kurt Masur.   Both symphonies were an absolute pleasure to hear; Masur's tempi were very, very slow, which is fine with me, as it gives more time to savour the details of Brahms's orchestral writing.  It is music which I used to know very well, but haven't listened to in years.   It still strikes me as a wonderful battle between romantic impulses and Brahms's painstakingly worked out details and construction in the symphonic tradition.  

Another Storm

Not really a storm;  we saw the Thomas Adès opera, "The Tempest".  We saw it first in the movie theater broadcast presentation, and then in live performance at the Met.  This was my first experience of the Met HD broadcasts, and the difference with the live performance is striking.  The sound is certainly lacking in the HD broadcast;  what you hear is primarily the singing voices, with the orchestra more in the background.  With closeup focus on the singers, what you get is primarily an experience of acting and singing. (It becomes more like a movie going experience.) In live performance, though the orchestra is much more present, and the singers and the acting are part of the overall experience.  This is especially significant in "The Tempest", which Adès has described as a "symphonic opera".  By that he means that the orchestra is the musical focus of the drama, working in parallel with the singers.

I was very much impressed by the opera, in both performances.  It feels to me as legitimate descendent of the tradition of the great 20th century operas like "Lulu" and Wozzeck", a stunning musical vision.  Adès music is both complex and expressive.  As intense a musical experience as I have ever had in an opera house.

Prospero, with Ariel, who sings in Queen of the Night register exclusively...

I was inspired to get a copy of a recent book of conversations with Adès, published in 2012.  He turns out to be very entertaining in conversation, and endlessly provocative in his opinions (and he knows it..)  Both Vera and I were laughing out loud when reading it.   He describes Wagner's music as  "a fungus", and has harsh words for Mahler, Britten, and Brahms.  But he is also very intelligent regarding his own music, and it is well worth reading.

Art and Money

The other day, I went to Sotheby's auction house for their exhibit of postwar and contemporary art for their big fall auction.   What was there was a dazzling selection of all the big names in postwar art, with major paintings by Rothko, Pollock, Bacon, and anyone else you can think of whose work hangs on the walls of MOMA's galleries of postwar art.   As in all the "blue-chip" artists.  But the atmosphere is very different from a museum, because all the art is for sale.  Instead of art lovers and tourists, you see lots of very important looking people clutching their cellphones, or more likely, people who are busy catering to the needs of very rich people.  Instead of descriptions, you get price  estimates.  (Rothko, estimated value $30 million, and in fact sold for $75 million).  It is very disconcerting to see the extent to which the contemporary art world is wrapped up into the world of the one percent.  As I staggered out of the 500 or so works on sale, I happened on an exhibit of Pre-Columbian Art (also for sale).  Intriguing and beautiful and a welcome contrast.

A few days ago, Vera and I went to the Frick Museum to see a collection of drawings on loan from the Courtaud Institute (wonderful).  What resonates with me is that Frick himself was one of the original predatory capitalists, a union buster who was often called the most hated man in America.  He spent the last years of his life spending as much money as he could, buying the most expensive paintings he could find.  (Three Vermeers, a late Rembrandt self-portrait, etc.)  What is amusing is that these masterpieces are all hanging in the formal picture galleries, while the rooms for daily life have mostly pictures of English aristocracy, etc. to which he doubtless aspired to be one of.

Heiner Goebbels

Tonight we saw an interesting music theater work by the German composer/theatrical artist Heiner Goebbels.  It featured texts by T.S. Eliot (Prufrock..), Maurice Blanchot, Kafka, and Beckett (Worstward Ho).  Sung and acted by the Hilliard Ensemble (4 male vocalists), with some taped electronic accompaniment. It was a fully staged theatrical presentation, with elaborate sets.  It could have been called some kind of opera, though Goebbels refers to it as "concert tableaux".

In the set above, each of the singers was in a different window in the house, singing at the same time.
The piece at times was very still. The first 10 minutes are done it almost silence, as the singers enact some very ritualistic packing up of all the materials on the set.
While I can't say that I loved the piece, I was consistently intrigued by the music theater implications of what he was doing.  The chief problem was that the text was not often clearly understandable, which does make a difference, especially in the Beckett  (""Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.")

Vera's Day

Vera had a wonderful day today. It was warm and sunny.  She went jogging along the Hudson River in Riverside Park down to 79th Street, and then she walked over to Zabar's to buy her coffee, etc., and then walked home along Broadway.  And she stopped on the way along Broadway and bought a purse!   All New York was out and about enjoying the sunny weather, eating outside.  What a pleasure!

Brahms

Last night I did something I usually don't do; I went to the New York Philharmonic to hear a 19th century program.   But in this case, it was a fluff-free all Brahms program, and they sent me discount invitations via email.  (Vera and our friend Tina went to the movies instead.)  In addition, the concert was to be conducted by Kurt Masur, a noted Brahms conductor.   The Double Concerto, which I love, was the first half.  It had a last minute substitute cellist, and, as well, they announced that Masur would not be able to conduct the piece, but would conduct the second half, Brahms 2nd symphony.  So the Double Concerto was conducted by an assistant, and the result was pretty messy.  Masur it turns out, is extremely frail, and can barely move.  But in any case, the 2nd was a delight, and reminded me of how much I love Brahms, and love hearing it performed by a live orchestra.  I thought only Wagner Ring cycles were subject to last minute cancellations.  

I bought a ticket for the Brahms 3rd and 4th next week, too.

We still have gas lines out our windows, and car horns honking all day long as people battle over their place in line.

Climate Change

Ten days ago, Vera and I were sitting outside having lunch on a warm day.  Then came Hurricane Sandy.  Now we have a classic Northeaster storm, with 40 mph winds and snow blowing sideways.  Airports are shut down again, etc.  I am not ready for this....

The view out our window:

A very confused pedestrian sign in the snow:

Morton Feldman

Last night we heard an extraordinary concert of works for very large orchestra and soloists by Morton Feldman, performed by a Czech orchestra from the town of Ostrova.   It was supposedly the first all Feldman orchestral concert in the US, and featured the US premieres of two major works, "Flute and Orchestra" and "Violin and Orchestra".  Both Vera and I were totally entranced; Feldman's ear for color is nowhere more apparent than in these orchestral works, and the imaginative variety of his timbres is astonishing.  The orchestra played with extreme precision, and in the intimate space of Alice Tully Hall, every note was clear.
Feldman's music is not for everyone. It moves quite slowly, and eschews any kind of grand theatrical gesture or even regular pulse.  Once you accept the scope of his music, the musical ideas are consistently interesting.  Things are always changing, and musical ideas keep on returning in recognizable transformations.  There were also even some very loud brass fortissimos!  
The program featured one work written in the early 1960's, and then three works written in the later 1970's which showed Feldman's music evolving into his late style of the 1980's (best exemplified by his 6 hour string quartet!).  The last piece, "Violin and Orchestra" was about an hour long, and eventually seems to make time stop.  Those who know me know that I am not one to tolerate musical stillness for very long.  But somehow, I was able to focus on this piece.
The only disappointment was the sparseness of the crowd; I had thought that we were in a Morton Feldman boom of some kind, and that the hall would be packed for an event this unique.
All in all, one of the most satisfying concerts I have been to in a long time.

Normal?

As I write, things are getting a bit back to normal in Manhattan, but the rest of New York is still in a desperate state.  We now have subway service down to 14th Street!   What has been noticeable walking around the last few days is how nice Manhattan is with fewer cars, as a consequence of driving restrictions and the gasoline shortage.  It never really occurred to me how many people consider it normal to use their cars to get around Manhattan. They did try to introduce congestion charges a few years ago, as in London, but it was vetoed by the Albanians (the State Legislature).
Except that this morning, I heard another symphony of car horns honking, with loud, barking voices outside our window.  It turns out that there is a gas station on 96th Street, and there was a long line of cars on West End Avenue waiting to get gas.  So the police were there, with street barriers, and of course, fights between drivers trying to cut into the line at the intersections.

Update:  We still have our gas queue, with its attendant police supervision.   Whenever the police go away, the car horns start and chaos resumes.  It feels like the 1970's.  An energy crisis!   Luckily, we are in NY, so it doesn't matter if all those in line for gas vote for Romney to drill more oil for them.   And, hopefully, they don't have guns.
At 6 PM there were three policeman supervising the chaos.

Cacaphony

Today, people in NY were trying to get back to work.  Which meant in their cars.  Which meant that Manhattan was in a state of absolute gridlock.  Which meant that, outside our window on West End Avenue, there have been car horns honking non-stop all day long.  Varese would have been thrilled;  me, not so much.    
When I went out, I discovered that it was Halloween.  I also discovered that, in NY, kids go trick-or-treating at stores along Broadway.   So the local pizza joint hands out candy to kids, as does the dry cleaner.  I wonder how long this has been going on?

Tomorrow we are supposed to get limited subway service...

Hurricane Sandy

As I write on Tuesday afternoon, the storm is mostly over, but NY is a total mess.   We spent the storm inside our apartment, looking out the windows.  From our perspective, it was an unusually windy day, with some light rain.   Which is why it was so strange to turn on the television, and see images of streets flooding, power outages, and general chaos 60 blocks to the south of us.   In the Upper West Side, taxis were still driving around at the height of the storm (until the mayor kicked them off the streets..)  We almost felt as if we were watching news from another city; a strange disconnect.   It was also very disconcerting to see images of areas we had just walked in a few days ago now under water.   (The Chelsea gallery area was flooded, too.)   Today, everything is very quiet, things are still pretty much closed, even though our neighborhood has power.  Still no public transportation, and it will be quite a while before the subways get going again.
Life in New York is never dull!

Subway steps, unused...

All the city parks are "closed", with yellow tape at all entrances.  Which for New Yorkers of all ages, is certain provocation to enter.  Many people were milling about, taking pictures of fallen limbs and trees.  Here are some trees that didn't fall down in Riverside Park: