What I did in New York City
Feb. 11th, 2012 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mojosmomI had fun! Well, you knew that, but to get more specific . . .
Arriving late Sunday afternoon, I didn't do much that day other than wander a bit around the neighborhood of my hotel. This managed to include a visit to a bookstore (Westsider Books) where a couple of books did insist on coming along with me. Not my fault. Then dinner at a very nice Turkish restaurant, Savann, on Amsterdam Avenue.
Monday, I went to the Museum of Modern Art for the Diego Rivera show, which was the main impetus for my trip. It was well worth it. In addition to the frescoes he created for the 1931 MOMA show, there were quite a few other works on display, and lots of information about the process of making the frescoes. There were some clandestine photos of "Man at the Crossroads", the mural he did at Rockefeller Center that was painted over, but, rather surprisingly, no mention of the famous E.B. White poem about that incident.
I browsed through the permanent collection then, had lunch at the museum, and browsed their shop. Once again, it was not my fault that there were some tempting books at 75% off. (It's a plot, I tell you!)
That night, I went to the Metropolitan Opera for The Enchanted Island, a "new" opera. "New" in quotes because it's a pastiche of music from a variety of baroque composers - Handel, Vivaldi, Rameau, and others - and the plot is an improbable, but rather fun, mash of The Tempest and Midsummer Night's Dream. David Daniels was supposed to sing Prospero, but was ill. I was initially quite disappointed to hear that, but, as it turned out, his cover, Anthony Roth Costanzo, was absolutely marvelous. Before the opera began, it was announced that Joyce DiDonato (Sycorax) was not well, but would sing anyway. As often happens when one hears that sort of announcement, she sure sounded good to me! The sets, costumes, lighting, were all magnificent and magical. I loved it, and I hope it gets produced elsewhere.
Next day, the Metropolitan Museum, and, as always, way more to see and do than there was time for. The first item on my list was the Renaissance Portrait exhibit, which was huge and full of wonderful things. I did not go through it all at once, because I had discovered that there was a gallery talk related to another exhibit on my list, "Chinese Art in the Age of Revolution: Fu Baoshi (1904-1965). So I went to that, and then went in more depth through that exhibit as well as another in the Asian galleries, "Story Telling in Japanese Art", lots of beautiful works, primarily handscrolls and folding screens.
Back to the portrait exhibit, and then to "Art in Renaissance Venice, 1400-1515", all treasures from the Met's own collection. I fell madly in love with The Meditation on the Passion, by Vittore Carpaccio, which kept revealing more intriguing details the more I looked at it:
I browsed the gift shop, but, other than an early music CD, I restrained myself, tempted though I was by a 2-volume set about the restoration of the Gubbio Studiolo, one of my very favorite places in the museum (heck, in the city!):
Went back to the hotel to rest a bit before heading out to Sleep No More, a site-specific, performance art/installation/theatre piece inspired by Macbeth. You sort of wander about this six-story warehouse, with spaces fitted out as cemeteries, madhouses, forests, boudoirs, etc., and various actors wordlessly play out different characters. You can follow any or some of them about, or simply find your own way in the space. It's the sort of thing that would repay multiple visits, since each would be a different experience. It was, to some degree, a bit self-indulgent, but not enough to be a drawback. Entry times are staggered throughout the evening, and I had been advised to get a ticket for as early a time as possible, advice which I would second.
I slept in a bit on Wednesday, and in the morning I did my Italian homework and the NYT crossword puzzle, and browsed the neighborhood a bit. In the afternoon, Warhorse, which is every bit the astonishing theatrical piece that you've heard. Don't even think about going to the movie. Honestly, the story itself is a hokey, overly-sentimental piece, chockful of absurd coincidences and miraculous escapes, but WHO CARES!! The story was mostly irrelevant to one of the finest pieces of stagecraft it has every been my pleasure to see. The Handspring Puppet Theatre is brilliant. The horses are worked by puppeteers who are visible, but, as with Japanese bunraku puppet shows, you simply don't notice it after a very short while.
The set design was minimal, and the dominant piece was a sweep of white screen, designed like a torn piece of paper (a plot point), halfway between stage and ceiling, on which were projected sketch-like images that setting us in the time and place of the action.
It's a production that demands a certain amount of intimacy between the audience and the stage, and so when I saw that it was coming to Chicago (next December), I was also disappointed to see that it will be at one of the big theatres, with no possibility for anyone in the audience to see a life-size marionette of a horse gallop off the stage and down the aisle right next to them.
My plans for the evening fell through, but, ever resourceful, I decided to go to Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola to hear Victor Goines. I sat at the bar and had a nice chat with the young lady next to me, who was visiting from Lyon (as in France).
I headed off to the Brooklyn Museum, and while there got a message from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
annulla and we arranged to meet. The Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture exhibit was interesting, though I think that in some instances the curators read into the works things that may or may not have been there - particularly with some older works. Nevertheless, it was useful to see how artists have navigated issues of sexuality in an unwelcoming world, and the works themselves were (mostly) worth seeing in and of themselves. I am always curious to see visitor comments on art shows, and thought some of the ones on this a bit silly. There were a number of complaint about the perceived lack of works by women and people of color. Aside from the fact that there were, in fact, quite a few, any such imbalance is endemic to the art world generally, certainly not unique to this exhibit!
I then met up with Annulla. We walked around the area, admiring architecture, like the library:
and then had lunch at a very nice Greek restaurant, Faros, or, as they spell it on the sign, ϕaros (the decor tended towards lighthouses!). The avgolemono soup, by which I judge Greek restaurants, was excellent. We also stopped by a bookstore for a browse.
I had tried to get a ticket to a Vivaldi concert at Carnegie Hall, but it was sold out. This was probably just as well, because I needed to pack, so I did that, went out and had dinner, and got to bed at a reasonable hour.
I had plenty of time at the airport before my flight, which then arrived in Chicago right on time. Went home and tried to unpack, but for some reason found that a bit difficult:
Arriving late Sunday afternoon, I didn't do much that day other than wander a bit around the neighborhood of my hotel. This managed to include a visit to a bookstore (Westsider Books) where a couple of books did insist on coming along with me. Not my fault. Then dinner at a very nice Turkish restaurant, Savann, on Amsterdam Avenue.
Monday, I went to the Museum of Modern Art for the Diego Rivera show, which was the main impetus for my trip. It was well worth it. In addition to the frescoes he created for the 1931 MOMA show, there were quite a few other works on display, and lots of information about the process of making the frescoes. There were some clandestine photos of "Man at the Crossroads", the mural he did at Rockefeller Center that was painted over, but, rather surprisingly, no mention of the famous E.B. White poem about that incident.
I browsed through the permanent collection then, had lunch at the museum, and browsed their shop. Once again, it was not my fault that there were some tempting books at 75% off. (It's a plot, I tell you!)
That night, I went to the Metropolitan Opera for The Enchanted Island, a "new" opera. "New" in quotes because it's a pastiche of music from a variety of baroque composers - Handel, Vivaldi, Rameau, and others - and the plot is an improbable, but rather fun, mash of The Tempest and Midsummer Night's Dream. David Daniels was supposed to sing Prospero, but was ill. I was initially quite disappointed to hear that, but, as it turned out, his cover, Anthony Roth Costanzo, was absolutely marvelous. Before the opera began, it was announced that Joyce DiDonato (Sycorax) was not well, but would sing anyway. As often happens when one hears that sort of announcement, she sure sounded good to me! The sets, costumes, lighting, were all magnificent and magical. I loved it, and I hope it gets produced elsewhere.
Next day, the Metropolitan Museum, and, as always, way more to see and do than there was time for. The first item on my list was the Renaissance Portrait exhibit, which was huge and full of wonderful things. I did not go through it all at once, because I had discovered that there was a gallery talk related to another exhibit on my list, "Chinese Art in the Age of Revolution: Fu Baoshi (1904-1965). So I went to that, and then went in more depth through that exhibit as well as another in the Asian galleries, "Story Telling in Japanese Art", lots of beautiful works, primarily handscrolls and folding screens.
Back to the portrait exhibit, and then to "Art in Renaissance Venice, 1400-1515", all treasures from the Met's own collection. I fell madly in love with The Meditation on the Passion, by Vittore Carpaccio, which kept revealing more intriguing details the more I looked at it:
I browsed the gift shop, but, other than an early music CD, I restrained myself, tempted though I was by a 2-volume set about the restoration of the Gubbio Studiolo, one of my very favorite places in the museum (heck, in the city!):
Went back to the hotel to rest a bit before heading out to Sleep No More, a site-specific, performance art/installation/theatre piece inspired by Macbeth. You sort of wander about this six-story warehouse, with spaces fitted out as cemeteries, madhouses, forests, boudoirs, etc., and various actors wordlessly play out different characters. You can follow any or some of them about, or simply find your own way in the space. It's the sort of thing that would repay multiple visits, since each would be a different experience. It was, to some degree, a bit self-indulgent, but not enough to be a drawback. Entry times are staggered throughout the evening, and I had been advised to get a ticket for as early a time as possible, advice which I would second.
I slept in a bit on Wednesday, and in the morning I did my Italian homework and the NYT crossword puzzle, and browsed the neighborhood a bit. In the afternoon, Warhorse, which is every bit the astonishing theatrical piece that you've heard. Don't even think about going to the movie. Honestly, the story itself is a hokey, overly-sentimental piece, chockful of absurd coincidences and miraculous escapes, but WHO CARES!! The story was mostly irrelevant to one of the finest pieces of stagecraft it has every been my pleasure to see. The Handspring Puppet Theatre is brilliant. The horses are worked by puppeteers who are visible, but, as with Japanese bunraku puppet shows, you simply don't notice it after a very short while.
The set design was minimal, and the dominant piece was a sweep of white screen, designed like a torn piece of paper (a plot point), halfway between stage and ceiling, on which were projected sketch-like images that setting us in the time and place of the action.
It's a production that demands a certain amount of intimacy between the audience and the stage, and so when I saw that it was coming to Chicago (next December), I was also disappointed to see that it will be at one of the big theatres, with no possibility for anyone in the audience to see a life-size marionette of a horse gallop off the stage and down the aisle right next to them.
My plans for the evening fell through, but, ever resourceful, I decided to go to Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola to hear Victor Goines. I sat at the bar and had a nice chat with the young lady next to me, who was visiting from Lyon (as in France).
I headed off to the Brooklyn Museum, and while there got a message from
annulla and we arranged to meet. The Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture exhibit was interesting, though I think that in some instances the curators read into the works things that may or may not have been there - particularly with some older works. Nevertheless, it was useful to see how artists have navigated issues of sexuality in an unwelcoming world, and the works themselves were (mostly) worth seeing in and of themselves. I am always curious to see visitor comments on art shows, and thought some of the ones on this a bit silly. There were a number of complaint about the perceived lack of works by women and people of color. Aside from the fact that there were, in fact, quite a few, any such imbalance is endemic to the art world generally, certainly not unique to this exhibit!I then met up with Annulla. We walked around the area, admiring architecture, like the library:
and then had lunch at a very nice Greek restaurant, Faros, or, as they spell it on the sign, ϕaros (the decor tended towards lighthouses!). The avgolemono soup, by which I judge Greek restaurants, was excellent. We also stopped by a bookstore for a browse.
I had tried to get a ticket to a Vivaldi concert at Carnegie Hall, but it was sold out. This was probably just as well, because I needed to pack, so I did that, went out and had dinner, and got to bed at a reasonable hour.
I had plenty of time at the airport before my flight, which then arrived in Chicago right on time. Went home and tried to unpack, but for some reason found that a bit difficult:
no subject
Date: 2012-02-18 04:16 am (UTC)The cat on the suitcase thing is a syndrome with which I am familiar. Too cute