On the shelf life of fortune

Last night I picked up a fortune cookie off my counter top. Every once in a while I order Chinese take away, but rarely do I eat the fortune cookies that same night, so they tend to accumulate until either I throw them away or get a hankering and eat them. Last night I had a hankering and, not wanting to tear into the last of my Girl Scout cookies, opted for a fortune cookie or two.

So I picked up this fortune cookie and opened it up. This is what it told me:
“You will travel far and wide, both for pleasure and business”

I almost dropped the fortune right then and there! I did drop the cookie, it skittered under the easy chair (not an unusual fate). I thought back to when I had last ordered Chinese food… Sure enough, it was just prior to my long spate of travel — to Baltimore and Washington, and then the long Mississippi River drive — I had run down my food supply since I was going to be gone for so long, so then I ordered some take away to make my final at-home dinner and leave some nosh for my house-sitter. I didn’t eat any of the fortune cookies, however… until last night.

So, what is the shelf life of fortune? Was my dessert prescient, or is this a case of hind-sight being 20/20?

My rational mind chooses the latter, but my romantic mind opts for the former. I’ve had a Martini, so we all know who wins that contest. 🙂

Words from the Northwest

Having a nice time here in Portlandia so far.  Got to bed at 9:00 PST last night, so dang tired after having got up at 4:00 CST to get to the plane.

Lunch was Pok Pok, a Thai (mostly) restaurant my brother recommended.  James Beard nominated even.  Had a fabulous bowl of Kuaytiaw Reus (Boat Noodles), which is a rich broth with stewed beef, poached beef, meatballs (little tiny, dense, things), spinach, chilies and bean sprouts, with noodles.  Yum!  Along side I had an order of their Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings, which my brother said were to die for, and he was right.  These are large wings, (willingly given up by their former, naturally raised owners) marinated in fish sauce and palm sugar, deep fried, and then tossed in caramelized Phu Quec fish sauce and garlic.  Wow!  Could only eat half the order, though.  So much food.

Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings - Pok Pok

Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings - Pok Pok

Then off to Portland Art Museum, which has a fairly rich collection.  Many donations from the likes of the Broad Foundation, Paul Allen Foundation, some Ayers family trusts and foundations, etc.  A lot of contemporary art, as well as the normal smattering of French schools, Impressionists, Abstract Expressionists, etc.

There was a lovely exhibition “In The Studio: Reflections on Artistic Life”, on display through May 19th.  This exhibit features multiple media representations of the artists life in his/her atelier, with models, materials, influences, mentors, gallerists, agents, etc.  All aspects of what actually goes in to being an artist.  I really loved all the Red Grooms pieces, of which there were many, including some of his 3D Lithography pieces.

Jackson in Action - Red Grooms, 1997

Jackson in Action - Red Grooms, 1997

Also, a very large collection of Asian arts.  My favorite was the soon-to-close exhibit on Noh, the ancient Japanese theatrical form of the Samurai.  This exhibit featured masks, costumes and painted depictions of Noh, both modern and historic.  A very nice 2 and a half hours of browsing after lunch.

Ayakashi (Vengeful Warrior) - Unknown Artist, Japan, 17th century

Ayakashi (Vengeful Warrior) - Unknown Artist, Japan, 17th century

I then went in search of a new power screwdriver, to replace the DeWalt 12V electric screwdriver which was confiscated by TSA agents.
No, really.  I didn’t know you couldn’t bring one in carry-on.  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even really think about it.  When I packed, I tried to consciously pack for either checking or carrying on my bag.  When I saw how bad the weather was on the way to the airport, I decided to carry on, in case I ended up missing my (very tight) connecting flight in Denver.  After standing in the longest security line I’ve ever experienced (at MKE or anywhere) I was told I could either give up the screw driver or go back and check my bag.  Well, at that point I would have missed my flight (I ended up getting to the gate just as they made my boarding call) so I gave it up.

I started with a small, local, hardware store, but they didn’t have that model.  They sent me to the DeWalt store (yes, they have one here) or the “Home Despot”, but thanked me for trying their small store first.  I was headed to the DeWalt shop, but saw a Home Depot on the way, right next to my hotel, so stopped there, hopeful that they would still have one of last year’s models, as I still have the batteries, charger and other accessories of the lost tool, I wanted to get the same kind.

In the process, I ended up driving from NE (airport) to SW (Pok Pok) to Downtown (Art Museum) to N Central (Hardware) to NE (Hotel)  — pretty much making a circuit of the city, mostly on surface streets.  That was a treat.

Dinner took me to a nearby hotel which has a nice-enough restaurant attached, Shilo, as I didn’t want to drive after having a cocktail.  It’s not as though Portland has any want of bars, taverns, cocktail lounges, etc.  The demon alcohol lays comfortably here.  The prevailing impression I have of the city, based on what I’ve seen so far, is of a really big version of our own Riverwest community, with coops, coffee shops, bars, taverns, brewing clubs (coffee and beer), bicycle shops (and coops), skateboard and moto clubs and shops, etc.  Lots of bungalows and ranch houses, all very low and surrounded by verdure.

Anyhow, had some crab cakes, which were okay, along with Happy Hour discounted coconut shrimp and a Caesar salad.  That, along with a couple of Martinis made with the local The Rogue (hat tip to Sarah Pallin) sealed things nicely, for a manageable $42 + tip.

One observation is that it is sometimes hard to tell the upright citizenry from the large homeless population — the preferred dress is strikingly similar.  It’s not unusual to see someone in a nice establishment who you would swear you recently saw pan-handling on the street.  Maybe they are the same, who’s to say…

Words From The River – Part III

Had a nice little visit to Beale Street last night.  Went to Alfred’s on Beale for dinner and the Memphis Jazz Orchestra.  The former was so-so, the latter quite good.

The St. Louis art scene was sparse yesterday.  It being Sunday, almost everything was closed, save SLAM and CAMSTL.  CAMSTL, unfortunately, was entirely given over to the Jeremy Deller exhibit we saw in London last year.  Oh well, off I went to SLAM, located in the central Forest Park, along with the Zoo and several other cultural sites.  Quite a lovely park, if I do say.

Right off the bat I saw a piece I liked, an Anselm Keifer “Bookcase” piece:

Anselm Keifer

Anselm Keifer

The collection at SLAM is typical for regional art museums, with the exception of a large collection of Max Beckman, and other 20th century German artists, all from a bequest of Morton D. May, of May’s Department Stores.  The museum is currently getting a new addition, which will open in June of this year.  Unfortunately, that limited my visit somewhat.  One highlight, which will likely draw me back again, was “Stone Sea” by Andy Goldsworthy, which the museum commissioned last year.  The piece, a densely packed cacophony of stone arches is in a well between two galleries, but is currently visible only by peering down from the windows of the museum café.  Once the new galleries are open, this will be much easier to see.

Andy Goldsworthy - Stone Sea (2012)

Andy Goldsworthy - Stone Sea (2012)

Funny thing is that I only stumbled across this when I saw a large selection of Goldworthy’s books in the gift shop.  I quickly Googled and found that he had made the piece.  A helpful docent suggested the café viewing option.  Thanks!

Back on the road, I decided to bail on the Interstate and drove about an hour or two on US-61, the “Big River Road” down to Cape Gerardeau, MO.  That was a great choice!  I’ve grown weary of the sameness of the expressway view of the world, and really enjoyed the ups and downs, swerving and turning, slowing and stopping and small towns along the way of the old road.

The other day, on my way from Wichita to Jefferson City, I found myself driving right underneath a humongous bird swirl.  You know, one of those massive flocks of, typically, starlings, which swoop and flit as one — much like schools of fish in the ocean.  Well, back on the highway for the stretch through Arkansas, around mile marker 41 on I-55 in Arkansas, I was underneath two even bigger ones, combining into one!!

It was like the most sensual dance you have ever seen, this airborne pas de duex, as the two flocks seemed unsure (like tentative lovers) whether to combine or not.  Ef-ing spectacular!!  I cannot even begin to do justice to this in words, it was an almost religious experience.  Then, about 20 miles later, I was underneath yet another large flock.  These all happened around sunset, which I think is when the starlings take flight in search of their insect prey.

Anyhow, the drive to Memphis was nice.  I had a pleasant evening stroll through a mostly abandoned downtown, seeking something to read at dinner (having exhausted every word in my New Yorker).  I finally came across a Memphis Flyer box with a few issues in it, and over dinner immersed myself in that.  Good read.

Words From The River – Part II

Seen by the side of I35 in Iowa: “Exit 133 Ellsworth Radcliffe”  Sounds like a title and author to me.  What say?  A new nom de plume?

Seen by side of US-50, about 9 miles west of Sadalia, Missouri.  A roadside stop, typical size, but with a large electronic sign above, almost as large as the store-front itself.  On the sign, in sequence, was displayed: “3 Tacos $2.09” “Tax Returns $34.95” “4 Clean Bathrooms”.  My question; is the count on that last item automatically updated as conditions change?

I am now safely ensconced in St. Louis, MO, right next door to the convention center.  As in I look out my windows, ample as they are, and that it all I can see.  I just had dinner at Copia, a very over priced joint over on Washington St., a couple of blocks away.  Surf & Turf with a wee little fillet and some lobster tail, a Caesar salad and a couple of Uncle Val’s (!) Martinis came to $75 + tip.  Oh well, balanced against my McDonald’s fish sandwich (last night) and the gas station sandwich (lunch today), my per diem can handle the heavy lifting.

The hotel is an odd bit.  A Ramada Plaza Inn, it has some accoutrement, and completely lacks others.  Large room, with large bathroom, but only one trash bin.  A CRT television (when was the last time you saw one of those?) which is weird, but at least everything looks normal, unlike the stretched and squashed visages on most hotel room HDTV sets.  Ice bucket, but no liner.  No glasses at all, paper cups for everything.

No time for sight seeing in Wichita, KS or Jefferson City, MO, but that’s probably no great loss, right?  Hotel is rife with scholastic volleyball players — this being the site of the annual President’s Day Invitational Tournament, or something like that.  Hundreds of kids, all unbearably wholesome.  What could go wrong?

Words from the River – Part 1

I stopped in to a liquor store in Eagan, MN yesterday, to pick up some Scotch.  My favorite swill, Clan McGreggor.  They had liters for $12.99 or 1.75 liter for $26.99.  Say What?!?  Bought a small bottle.

Worked at the client’s last night from 6:00 – 11:30.  Drove home in wet, sloppy, snow, but safely.  Had a couple of scotches while watching TV, until suddenly all the channels went away.  Called the front desk.  “Oh, it must be because of the storm.” said the gormless twit behind the desk.  Ha, Storm?!?  This is ef-ing Minnesota, and a little teeny snow storm knocks out their satellite feed??  No excuse if you ask me.

Drove down to Kansas City today.  Currently ensconced in the Holiday Inn at the Country Club Plaza, which if you know KC you know is a tony address.  The Nelson-Atkins is just a short walk away.

Speaking of arts museums, went to the Walker yesterday.  Had to pay the $12, as I left my MAM membership at home (grrr).  Great new building — much different than the last time I was there, maybe 20 years ago.  Had a huge exhibit on Cindy Sherman.  WOW!  Did you read the profile of Lena Dunham’s mother, the artist Laurie Simmons, in the New Yorker recently?  In it, they talked about her knocking around Metro Pictures and other “in” galleries in the 70s & 80s, and she talked about learning to make good looking prints, and what a change that made to her work.  Well, the same can be said for Sherman, a regular member of the Metro Pictures stable of artists.  Her “Hollywood Film Stills” project is amazing, and the later, larger, work is simply arresting.  So glad I got to see the show.

They also have a large installation called Midnight Party, which is a sprawling conglomeration of hundreds of works by over a hundred artsists, mostly pulled from their collection, and arranged brilliantly across several galleries on 3 floors.  Some rooms are given over to curio-cabinet style displays, like a natural history museum, but all art.  Quite good.

My only complaint was that the lighting, in general, was abysmal.  Very hard to appreciate some of the work for all the glare.

I just got home from a fabulous dinner at Oklahoma Joe’s Bar-B-Que, in KC, KS.  Here’s about 1/4 of the line of people waiting to order:

Queue at Oklahoma Joe's Bar-B-Que

Queue at Oklahoma Joe's Bar-B-Que

That line twists and turns all the way to the street door.  If it weren’t Valentine’s Day, I was told, the line would be out the door and down the block.  Thank God I was dining alone on V Day, I say!

Here’s my dinner.  I ordered a full rack with a side of coleslaw.  The grill man hollered out, “Special Creamy!!”  I almost blushed. 😉

Special Creamy

Special Creamy

That’s either mighty fine eatin’, or a piece of Christopher Dorner.  You be the judge!

This nice older couple came and sat next to me.  Had a nice little conversation with them until the woman explained, “I talk to two kinds of people in this world; those who have accepted Jesus Christ Our Lord into their lives and hearts, and those who are just about ready to.  Which type are you?”

“I’m the type who doesn’t believe in discussing religion with strangers over dinner.” I replied, and turned back to my food.  What I wanted to say was something witty, like “If we’re going to discuss deeply personal and private matters, let’s talk about masturbation habits, instead.  I’m sure it’ll be way more interesting!” 😉

Now back at the hotel, after trying to navigate dense, cryptic KC traffic and roadways without GPS.  I was currently busy trying not to run down the horse drawn carriages that look like Tiffany Pumpkins festooned with garish lighting, slowly ferrying their cargo through the self-same cryptic streets.  Thank god the other drivers were so busy gawking that they ignore my severe traffic transgressions.

Words From The River – Introduction

Taking a business trip to several locations in the Midwest and South.  Flying to Minneapolis/St. Paul and from there driving to Kansas City, Wichita, Jefferson City, St. Louis, Memphis, Baton Rouge and, finally, New Orleans — then fly home.  I will be staying one night in each location, save Jefferson City, from whence I will repair to St. Louis, post haste.

The work must happen at night, so my days, when not given over to driving, are my own, and to this end I have mapped out the art museums and other key cultural attractions in each locale.  Walker Arts in MN.  Ribs in KC, KS.  Nelson-Atkins in KC, MO. SLAM in St. Louis, etc.

The following articles originate from somewhere along the great rivers of the US heartland — the Mississippi, Missouri and Arkansas.

The Clock

Chrstian Marclay's The Clock

Chrstian Marclay's The Clock

Christian Marclay’s The Clock

Christian Marclay’s The Clock is both simple and difficult to explain.  It is a 24 hour film produced by editing together bits and pieces of thousands of films from over 70 years of cinema.  The museum screens the film such that the time in the film tracks real time.  Almost every clip of film shows a clock or watch or the mention of time, or some other reference to the time.  We got there around 10:00 AM and stayed until about 12:30.  There was a wonderful building of excitement as the hour approached noon, starting at 11:40, with a clip from High Noon in which the town folk inveigh upon the sheriff to get out of town, and culminating in seemingly several terrorist acts, bank jobs, etc. all timed to commence at noon.

12:04 to 12:07

This does point up one of the oddities of the piece, which is that certain minutes seem to stretch out, such as hours (11:00, 12:00), for about 2 or 3 minutes.  Also, one does witness time shift forward and back quite frequently, as it will be, say, 11:15, then 11:18, then 11:16.  There are also odd coincidences.  It seems, for example, that a quarter past is a common time for waking up “late” in film, so at 10:15 and 11:15 we are shown scenes of people just waking up, looking at the clock, and swearing.

The sensation of watching The Clock is something else.  You get wrapped up in the action, but the action keeps shifting.  You recognise this or that scene, but then it shifts again.  Marclay’s expert sound editing makes the transitions seamless at times, and jarring at others.  MoMA is just the latest to acquire a copy of the film, let’s hope more people get a chance to see this.  X returned the next day for another 3 hours, from roughly 5:30 to 8:30 PM.  She reports that that stretch featured a lot of meal preparation, cocktailing, etc. and had longer clips of each film than the morning span we saw together.

Art and Dreaming

After a morning jaunt up to the northern tip of the island to visit old friends and grab a bite to eat, your intrepid travelers repair to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue to take in the latest shows. On display are George Bellows, Matisse – In Search of True Painting, Extravagant Inventions – The Princely Furniture of the Roentgens and Faking It – Manipulated Photography Before Photoshop.

42 Kids - George Bellows (1907)

42 Kids - George Bellows (1907)

My favorite has to be the Bellows. His work is so American in its nature, so egalitarian, accessible, visceral, genuine. This retrospective is satisfying and complete feeling, but at 120 paintings, not too excessive. From the first, 42 Kids (1907), showing the children of immigrants swimming in the East River, to the final portraits painted before his early death, this collection shows the work of George Wesley Bellows (1881 – 1925) in its fullness. A member of the “Ashcan School” of American Realist painters, and associated with Robert Henri’s “The Eight,” Bellows expressed his leftist, populist leanings in his work, which often focused on the impoverished immigrant population of New York.

Stag At Sharkeys - George Bellows (1909)

Stag At Sharkeys - George Bellows (1909)

He is perhaps best known for his boxing paintings, including the seminal work, Stag At Sharkeys (1909), as well as Both Members Of This Club (1909) and Dempsey And Firpo (1924 – painted for Look Magazine), but Bellows also painted broadly of the scenery and characters of New York — from fishermen and dock workers to the excavation of Pennsylvania Station — and portraits of family, friends and patrons.

New York - George Bellows (1911)

New York - George Bellows (1911)

Matisse, on the other hand, never went in much for realism, but sought in abstraction and impression the truest representations of his subjects, be they people, plants or still life. In this exhibit, especially, Matisse’s explorations and experimentation with different representational forms is put before us at once. We see as he studies a subject, and tries different approaches to find the best, or some best, way to depict it. At times we may see 4 or 5 studies of the same subject, abstract, boldly impressionistic, even realistic. I have seen so many Matisse exhibitions at this point — starting with the exhaustive (and exhausting) MoMA retrospective from 1991 (440 pieces) that there is little of his work which I haven’t seen at least several times, but here, at least, we are told a different story about how he settled on the path he did. Well curated, to say the least.

Still Life with Purro I - Henri Matisse (1904)

Still Life with Purro I - Henri Matisse (1904)

Still Life with Purro II - Henri Matisse (1904-5)

Still Life with Purro II - Henri Matisse (1904-5)

The furniture of the Roentgen’s is peculiar and certainly of its time. For roughly 60 years, from 1742 in to the beginning of the 19th century, the cabinet making firm of Abraham Roentgen and his son David turned out some of the most ingenious, extravagant and beautiful desks, curious, tables and clocks. A hallmark of their work, in addition to expert joinery and unbelievable inlays, was clever mechanisms. Hidden cubbies, secret lockers, counter-balanced mechanical systems are everywhere. A desk becomes a backgammon table becomes a chess board becomes a card table. A roll top desk has dozens of secret places to store everything from papers to inks and pens. A touch of a hidden button or turn of a key reveals an entire raft of drawers and lined compartments. Astonishing!

Roentgen writing desk

Roentgen writing desk

Finally, the Pre-Photoshop days of trick photography are amply explored in Faking It. I didn’t find much new in this exhibit, but it was well laid out and accompanied by some informative text. Nowhere near as exciting as the Bellows though!

Now down to TKTS and some half-price tickets for the evening’s entertainment. Armed with a choice of three shows, we ended up with Peter And The Starcatcher at the Books Atkinson. Closing January 20th, we are glad we got into this 2011 Tony Award winner. The play, by Rick Elice, is based upon a novel by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, and seeks to be a prequel to the Peter Pan stories. It is a raucous production, deeply rooted in Vaudeville, and with frequent direct-to-the-audience mugging and exposition. Where to start?

Proscenium Arch by Donyale Werle

Proscenium Arch by Donyale Werle

The proscenium arch would be a good place. Before curtain, we are delighted with the elaborate assemblage upon the arch, kitchen implements and other ephemera make mermaids and all sort of curlicue and decoration. The set seems to be a dock, or is it a vessel? Once the action commences we quickly get the gist of the story: Lord Aster and his daughter Molly are to set sail on a pair of ships to spirit star dust safely away, but something goes wrong. They are separated and after a failed attempt at piracy, the star dust is set adrift with an enslaved stow away. Too much action ensues to explain it here, and you can always read the book if you’re interested, but the point of the whole enterprise is that these enslaved boys wind up as the Lost Boys, the island they all wash up on ends up as Neverland and all of the various people and events necessary to set up the Peter Pan story are more or less in place by the end of two acts.

Peter And The Starcatcher

Peter And The Starcatcher

But getting there is the fun part. The set is inventive, flexible and fun. The lighting effective, the costuming a lark. The performances are all so energized, you’d swear these folks are having the time of their lives, and it shows! After intermission we are treated to a very bawdy Vaudeville-esque song and dance performance featuring the entire cast in drag, which is just a delight!

Post-Interval song and dance

Post-Interval song and dance

Finally too the 1 down to the Village to pop into the Kettle Of Fish on Sheridan Square and a visit with the proprietors, Patrick and Adrian.  I’ve been a fan of the Kettle ever since a Green Bay Packers game back in 2001, during a visit to the city, sent me in search of a place to watch.  Patrick is a old Milwaukean, having worked selling hardware at the old Oriental Hardware Store before leaving for New York, some 30+ years ago, and the Kettle is now known far and wide as the place to watch the Packers when you’re in New York.  I watched part of the Packers’ wild-card playoff game here last Saturday, and now Patrick and Adrian invite me back to sit at the “Round Table” for the upcoming game against the San Francisco 49ers.  I’ll be there!

Wednesday Catchup

Wow, falling behind here. Let’s catch up then, shall we?

Wednesday we enjoyed a matinée of The Other Place at Manhattan Theater Club. This taut drama by Sharr White stars Laurie Metcalf (Rosanne) as a powerful drug company executive and former scientist who is relating to us a story from a business trip a while back. Utilizing a combination of flash backs and flash forwards, the script builds a complicated framework within which the complete story eventually is fit.

We soon learn, however, that we cannot be sure just how much of what this woman tells us we can believe. She is cagey about her name, for example, when talking with a doctor in one of the many threads of the tale. She accuses her husband of adultery, but is he really guilty? She claims he is divorcing her, but he tells us otherwise. She has long, fraught, phone calls with an estranged daughter, but does she really?

It would be giving away too much to tell more about the basis of these uncertainties, but suffice to say that the play, which opened to fairly good notices the next night, paints a daunting and frightening picture of what can happen to our inner, and outer, worlds when our minds get away from us.

Cudos to the design staff. The set, by Eugene Lee & Edward Pierce, is an elaborate semi-cylinder of window frames, with embedded lighting elements, which matches the elaborate framework of the story telling to a tee. Lighting by Justin Townsend compliments the set nicely, and serves to establish the many different settings required by the script, all within the single set. But it is the costuming by David Zinn which really does the most with the least to move the story along. Within Zinn’s single costume, Ms Metcalf transforms from a high level business woman, with impeccable style, to a forlorn mother, lost in this world and losing everything. By the simple removal of a jacket here, stockings there, or the addition of a shapeless sweater, we see many different sides to this one, complex, woman.

Daniel Stern as the lonely and left behind husband, who must struggle against his wife’s constant anger and accusations, turns in a mostly muted, but moving and frustrated performance. When he erupts in sobs 2/3rds of the way in, we are moved to do the same. Zoe Perry (Ms Metcalf’s real life daughter) ably dispatches the three roles she is tasked with.

A heavy matinée, to say the least!

That evening took us to the Joyce for some dance, part of the Focus Dance 2013 program. We saw a program with Camille A. Brown & Dancers, and Brian Brooks Moving Company. Ms. Brown’s group performed Been There, Done That, City Of Rain and The Real Cool. The latter, a sole piece featuring Ms Brown, was a lovely piece, often using small front-mounted pin-spots to project large expressive shadows of her onto the rear cyclorama.

Mr. Brooks’ company used a very physical dance form to explore movement in some new ways, in I’m Going To Explode, Descent and, with Wendy Whelan, Fall Falls. I was especially moved by Descent, a dance in three movements. In the first, dancers dragged partners, literally, across the stage and maneuvered them about as if dolls, at times — all while lit from the sides by horizontal wedges of light.

The second movement presents us with a stage lit only from 6 feet up. The dancers enter the stage from left or right, putting lacy fabric aloft with the breeze from wood fans they wave upwards. It was like watching well choreographed jelly fish dancing! So lovely, so lyric, so fresh! Each dancer would cross from left to right, or right to left, their focus upward on their fabric, and the fabric would twirl and bob in the drafts.

The program closed with a duet by Mr. Brooks and Ms. Whelan, part of her series Restless Creature, which explored the interaction of bodies and the shifting of the planes of horizon and plateau, their bodies sometimes climbing the floor or walking on the air. Hard to explain, but lovely to behold.

Art Dawdle and Odets Overwrought

visite ii, 2009 - Ann Hamilton

visite ii, 2009 - Ann Hamilton

Tuesday, already?!?

Galleries open on Tuesdays in Chelsea, even if the museums don’t.  So, off we go to the West End of 24th – 25th streets to check some out.  Ann Hamilton has a small show up at gemini g.e.l. which surveys her work from 2000 – 2012.  Held in conjunction with The Event Of A Thread, this show focuses mostly on a few portfolio of lithographs and collage, as well as some textile work.  Quite nice, and well priced, too.

Around the corner at Kent Fine Art we find the absolutely trippy exhibit, Paul Laffoley’s The Boston Visionary Cell.  Up through March 9th, this exhibit is like a walk in the mind of an obsessive lunatic.  Here we are immersed in fantasy and whimsy, time travel and immortality, aliens and philosophers, mythologies and psychotropics.  Much homage is granted here to the wild thinkers and dreamers of times gone by, specifically along the edges of most of the canvases we see “Homage to Nickolai Tesla…” sorts of inscriptions.

Paul Laffoley - Kali Yuga

Paul Laffoley - Kali Yuga

A video runs in a continuous loop with an episode of some Hard Copy style show touting the time travel acumen of Laffoley, and promising the truth behind Little Richard’s claims.  I feel sorry for the gallery staff.

Along the street we popped in on many other shows, such as a large Ed Ruscha show at Gagosian, which was utter crap in my estimation.  Jeff Muhs The Origin of Nymphs at Lyons Weir was interesting, but unfulfilling.  His gauzy oils of nymphs were a striking presentation, but hollowed out in their core — lacking in any meaning or depth.

Venus of Urbino (after Titian) - Jeff Muhs

Venus of Urbino (after Titian) - Jeff Muhs

These shared the gallery with Rock Center, an incongruously named collection of still life by Melodie Provenzano.  Her work is technically proficient, but I found the subject matter and hyper-realistic rendering to result in paintings that were too twee by half.  Honestly, I thing the original glassware assemblages would be more interesting to see than these paintings of them.  Sorry.

Rock Center - Melodie Provenzano

Rock Center - Melodie Provenzano

Much more, but none of it stuck.

The evening brought us to Broadway for the first time this trip, and a revival of the 1930’s drama, Golden Boy by Clifford Odets.  This production has generated quite the buzz, and there’s already talk of Tony awards and such.  The production, directed by Bartlett Sher, is a design tour-de-force.  Michael Yeargan’s sets, Catherine Zuber’s costumes and Donald Holder’s lights, together, provide us with perhaps the most powerful character in the play.  The sets in particular take us effortlessly from setting to setting with believability and grace.

Yvonne Strahovski as Lorna Moon & Seth Numrich as Joe Bonaparte

Yvonne Strahovski as Lorna Moon & Seth Numrich as Joe Bonaparte

The performances are almost all quite strong.  Yvonne Strahovski (of TVs Chuck) turns in a very even read of Lorna Moon, the troubled “Tramp from Newark” devoted to fight promoter Tom Moody, played with meandering force by Danny Mastogiorgio.  Seth Numrich is Joe Bonaparte, the Golden Boy of the title, who steals Lorna’s heart even as she tries to manipulate his.  Danny Burstein (Boardwalk Empire) as Tokio, Joe’s seasoned trainer, and Tony Shalhoub (Monk) as Joe’s father, and Italian immigrant fruit seller, round out the primary cast.  Aside from some overdone Italian accents and some overwrought costume/stage business, these are all good performances.  Burstein, in particular, brilliantly manages a slow simmer right up until the penultimate scene, and finally reveals a very touching side to his character.

Of the show as a whole, to use and overused phrase, “It is what it is.”  It’s a revival of a piece of work very much of its era.  Analogies within the script with the organized labor movement (in the person of Joe’s older brother Frank, a CIO organizer in the textile industry) is largely lost on today’s crowd.  Were script edits to blame?  Perhaps.  Likewise, the character of Mr. Carp, the appropriately named neighbor who occupies the Bonaparte’s parlor as he quotes (and misquotes) Schopenhauer, Wittgnestein and other dismal philosophers, but who seems to simply vanish somewhere between Acts II and III.