Duccio and the early Chinese Art at the Met

No visit to New York at Chrsitmas would be complete without a stop into the Metropolitan Museum to see the Neapolitan Christmas Creche. But there was an added holiday treat as the Mueum's recently acquired Duccio's "Madonna and Child" went on display.

It's small - maybe the size of a piece of paper, but beautifully delicate. While we were in the gallery I heard a man trying to explain to a friend why this painting was of any interest or any more important than the zillions of other Christmas card paintings the Met has hanging all over its galleries. He tried to put it in historical perspective, but I think the point that his friend never got was that changes in style and attitude even thematic shifts in art often happen so incrementally as to be almost unnoticeable. Who knows when the first Nativity Scene with snow was painted? But now, everyone see snow in Nativity scenes, even though Bethlehem was unlikely to have ever been dusted with more than rain.

But I digress, the Met's new Duccio is small -- not so grand as his Maesta Altarpiece, and maybe because it wasn't of enormous significance, Duccio felt he could take a bit of license with the usual idioms of Madonna and Child portrayal. Instead of looking godlike and lofty, the madonna has weight. Her child reaches for her veil, more like a normal baby, instead of sitting there with a hand raised in god-like blessing. Naturalism is somehow creeping into sacred pictures. Ordinary people are starting to have enough money to buy objections of personal devotion. Intimacy is a relatively new aspect of commune with God. And this painting in some way represents that enormous change in attitudes.

The exhibit "China: Dawn of a Golden Age, 200-750 AD," which spans the period from the collapse of the Han dynasty into the fabled Tang dynasty, was quite spectacular and comprehensive too. Featuring exquisitely crafted objects-- animals, figurines, pieces from Silk Road trade -- the exhibition traces a history of culture that I couldn't help but compare with the Hellenistic background covered so beautifully in the Alexander the Great exhibit at the Onassis Center.

It relieves me to think of the history of mankind not just including war but also enduring evidence of beautiful and refined things as well.

The new MOMA in New York

What do I think of the newly renovated and expanded Museum of Modern Art? I want to say I like it. I want to be all hip and "in the know" and talk about Yoshio Taniguchi's bold use of positive and negative space creates... but who am I kidding?

I grew up with the old place, and honestly, I just can't warm to the new space yet. Maybe I will in time -- I've only been there once after all. But as much as it was like greeting old friends to go up to the Brancusis and Chagalls and chuckle at the Duchamp again, I felt it wasn't a place I could happily wander away for hours as I used to. I think it reminded me too much of San Francisco's MOMA, which I often think of (institutionally) as a very arch and fussy cat.

One thing rather well done now is the arrangment of artworks more thematically than rigidly by artist or genre. I have much more of a fluid sense of interconnection now.

And don't get me wrong -- I'll be back there again, although at those admission prices -- $20 for adults-- I'll be asking my Dad to take me in on his membership card all the time.

The Aztecs at the Guggenheim -- Blood on the Chocolate

My Dad and I hit the Aztec Empire exhibit, which goes until Feb 13 at the Guggenheim in New York.

First off, can I just wonder why it is that the Guggenheim doesn't exhibit their shows so that you go up to the top of the building to begin with and then work your way down the spiral? I remember hearing that that was the orignal intention of Frank Lloyd Wright, but the shows that I've seen lately don't do that, and so you have to climb endlessly, or see the show backwards, which is what we did.

The artifacts --from collections all over, but largely from the Museo Nacional de Antropologia in Mexico City -- are impressive, some even exquisitely crafted, but signage on the display was practically nil. I dislike walking around holding those laminated cards, so I relied partly on the museum's monthly guide, which had a fine article by Felipe Solis, director of the aforementioned Anthropoligcal Museum. Of course, I had to read it backwards.

One thing that continued to disturb me throughout the exhibit was the reckless imaginings that kept cropping up in my head of human sacrifice and mutilations. The culture of the Mayans and Aztecs, I suppose, will never be one I understand. No matter how many times I read about how it was an "honor" for the victims and how nicely they were treated leading up to the sacrifice, no amount of warm cups of chocolate makes having your living heart ripped out of your chest seem worth it.

Every so often I'd pass another image -- a statue of Xipe Totec wearing a human skin, a nicely curved stone made for holding human blood -- and (not to get too woo-woo about this, but...) I'd feel almost overwhelmed by a sense of horror at the amount of death that had been involved with that particular object.

Humans are such a queer bunch -- for all our vaunted logic, we seem to be the only creature on the planet that is superstitious and on such a scale! How would any logical creature imagine that sacrificing 20,000 individuals would have any direct association with the next year's harvest?

After the Ball -- Noel Coward takes on Oscar Wilde

The Irish Repertory Theatre is one of those small, but ever interesting and serious rep companies in New York. Why don't we have more of these in San Francisco? They perform Bernard Shaw, Sean O'Casey, Oscar Wilde -- always interesting stuff.

This season, in a lighter vein, they hauled out a musical reworking Noel Coward once made of Oscar Wilde's "Lady Windemere's Fan."

Coward's acerbic wit is not so much in evidence in this musical, which dates from the early fifties, and enjoyed moderate success, despite many modifications Coward was forced to make when one of his stars turned out to be less of a singer than he thought. Still the charm is still there.

Kathleen Widdoes, who pays the Duchess of Berwick (and a sort of Chorus) shows why she's a pro-- whether it's Shakespeare or sitting room satire. For sheer singing chops, Greg Mills, as Mr. Hopper, and Mary Iles as Mrs. Erlynne were delightful. Kristin Huxhold as Lady Windemere was beautiful to look at, but had some distracting mannerisms and a weaker voice, but the multi-talented David Staller (who studied cello under Mstislav Rostropovich) made for a heartfelt Lord Darlington.

The Irish Rep has a chance in the near future to purchase the building they live in and have launched a capital campaign to raise the funds. To donate, check out their website. They're worth supporting.

Alexander the Great: Exhibit at the Onassis Cultural Center

In perfect timing with the release of a (by other accounts) bombastic movie about Alexander the Great is the exhibition of a terrifically refined gem of a show that includes Hellenistic artifacts gathered from museums and collections all over the world at the Onassis Cultural Center in the basement of the Olympic Tower.

The armor, the weapons, but also the jewelry and everyday pieces were wonderfully selected and arranged to give an evocative picture of life in the 4th century BC. In some ways I enjoy smaller exhibitions, because what you lose in breadth, you can pick up in detail. I don't know if I would have spent so long examining the golden beads of a women's necklace if I thought there were 6000 other artifacts to look at. But what a reward to be able to look so carefully at the inscriptions on gold laurel leaves, or the craftsmanship in the sculpting of a head on a silver wine jug.

Upstairs, casts of the Elgin marbles adorn the walls of the lobby. How funny to see people in business suits speed by them, indifferent to thousands of years of history. But maybe that's generally how we are -- indifferent to thousands of years of history.

Jazz Center at Columbus Circle

I was a little disappointed that the December season for the new Jazz Center was over by the time I got to New York, but I had a great time strolling through the space anyhow. What a spectacular view from the "lobby," as well as, of course, the Rose hall and the Allen Room.

The little Jazz Hall of Fame was open at least and we watched sveral projection presentations for the latest inductees.

What impresses me most about the place though is the vastness of space -- it has a grandness that seems to elude so many public venues these days and I love it. Check out the architect Rafael Vinoly's, page.

Fallujah in Pictures

Fallujah in Pictures shows another side of the conflict. Hard to look at, but I'm glad someone has this site.

Treasures of King Tut returning to LA, other U.S. sites

I saw this show as a kid-- what an amazing exhibit. Nowthat the Tut treasures are coming to LA I might have to make a trip to see them!

Treasures of King Tut comes to LA County Museum of Art in June, then goes to other U.S. sites

Sarah Kane's "4.48 Psychosis'

What a tour de force. I came out of the theater feeling emotionally drenched with sweat from Sarah Kane's "4.48 Psychosis," which the Royal Court Theater is touring around America. In a New York Times profile of Kane, who completed this play not long before she committed suicide, her brother noted that he wanted the Royal COurt's production to be the first version American audiences saw of Kane's play (her other works are popular in colleges) and it's easy to see why.

Raw is not quite large enough a word to describe the fractured narrative, in which a single mind seems to be personified by three aspects, played by Jason Hughes, Marin Ireland, and an unbelievably affecting Jo McInnes.

The title of the play refers to the hour of the wolf when suicides often occur -- in the dark hours of the morning when life problems look the worst and most insurmountable. Far from being incoherent ravings of a madwoman, though, the monologues of 4.48 reveal the interior of an intensely intelligent, deeply feeling person.

Special kudos go to the production designers, Jeremy Herbert and Nigel Edwards, and also director James MacDonald, who bring the play to the stage with flair. Through a giant reflective canopy stretched overhead, and proections, both video and sound, we see fragments of a persona from all directions at once, creating compelling images that will stay in my mind for a long time.

Symphony Parnassus and Dead Elvis

For a little afternoon fun before the Halloween madness overtook the city, I went to hear Eric play with Symphony Parnassus in their Autumn concert at the Herbst Theater.

This fun little program featured a suite from the "Bride of Frankenstein" as well as the prelude to "Psycho," which actually is quite good, even in concert. The Dead Elvis for Bassoon and Chamber Ensemble was not my thing, but they rounded the afternoon off with a very respectable, if slow-ish reading of Berlioz's Symphony Fantastique.

Cheers to Stephen Paulsson (the Symphony's mastermind and director) for pulling their concerts together.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon -- in shocking 3-D

We celebrated Halloween with the Jazz Passengers at SF Jazz this year, and it was a total wacko, cornball treat.

The talented (really REALLY talented) seven member Passengers performed their own score PLUS slightly ad libbed dialogue to a screening of the horror classic "Creature from the Black Lagoon." And if that wasn't enough, it was shown in fabulous 3-D! I had the most fun halfway through when I took off my red/blue glasses for a moment, and looked around at the audience. There everyone sat, staring at the screen at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater, like a 1950's ad for 3-D movies.

The Jazz Passengers have a great shtick worked up for the movie, complete with little asides and "Mystery Science Theater 3000" type commentary. Amazingly, as they play, they also perform all the dialogue (in rainforest explorer-type garb, no less) and it's hilarious.

The 3-D, I was amazed to see really did work out well, particularly in sequences that were obviously filmed to give you a sense of depth. It did make my eyes tired after a while though. Like looking at the old Magic Eye prints that used to be so popular in the 1990's.

Check out How 3-D Glasses work.

Edward Villella and Alonzo King at Words on Dance

Edward Villella and Alonzo King, two rather different dance personalities, were the guests of honor at Words on Dance's program at the JCC in San Francisco. Interviewed by photographer Rose Eichenbaum, who chose both men as subjects in her new book of portraits, the two reminisced a little about their respective dance backgrounds, but mainly talked dance philosophy -- it's one of the best parts of any Words on Dance presentation when you hear this kind of stuff.

Some of my favorite quotes from the evening:

Villella: People think dance is about "the step" but it's about the continuity-- how the connection is made.

(Villella goes on to note about the safety zone that comes of just teaching technique) If you are teaching technique, then you are never wrong -- it's the student that is wrong.

Villella: There was a moment in Prodigal Son I couldn't get. In frustration, Mr B. finally said "Byzantine icons, dear, Byzantine icons." He taught me Prodigal Son in one half hour, another half hour and 45 minutes of rehearsal. Then I never saw him again. Arlene Croce once said to me, "Maybe he wanted you to show him."

The participants also occasionally quoted others:
Eliot Feld: Your creative work owes you nothing, you owe it everything.

(and my favorite) Katherine Dunham: Ask yourself who you are, what were you put here to do, and if you're not doing it, why not?

Secret in the WIngs at Berkeley Rep

"Secret in the Wings" is everything that the "Black Rider" should have been -- but sadly wasn't.

Mary Zimmerman's beautiful and luminous play has all the surrealness of a fairytale, all the incomprehensible horror and impenetrable beauty of a world seen by a child, with the kind of clean dramatic structure that should make Robert Wilson blush.

Within a series of seven nested tales, that go from the frame of an ogre's babysitting assignment, to the story of the Princess who wouldn't laugh, to a retelling of the Chldren of Lir, to some completely new tales.

With beautiful elements like the falling leaves, floating feathers from the swans, one story intertwines with another, (although in the strictest sense, they are begun, one by one, then resolved in the reverse order form which they were introduced) addressing a wide range of human experiences from love to loyalty to hatred and revenge. Zimmerman, who also directed the production, has a sure hand with the dramatic aspects, and the nine member cast obviously implicitly trusts her judgement.

Whereas Black Rider seemed to be all about hip posturing in dark clothes, "Secret in the WIngs" is lush and old fashioned-- a little corny, but unafraid of being so, as long as it can tell the story it needs to tell. Some moments are exquisitely beautiful too. On actor holds up a frame while another "sails" a model ship in the middle of the empty square space. It sounds almost ridiculous, but as it turned out in the moment, was exquisitely beautiful.

John Scofield at Yoshi's

So we trekked over to Oakland to see John Scofield's Trio last night.

What were the sounds that man was able to get out of his instrument? Was he kidding? It was a fun evening, no doubt, but I still have trouble when they wander off on little musical forays far far away from the tune.

Still, the energy in the club for the last set was high and the trio responded, kicking out versions of standards (as my husband had to explain to me) of "Perdido."

Mahler's Ninth at the SF Symphony

I love leaving a show feeling all weak-kneed and exhausted.

I don't think that before the Symphony started their Mahler cycle, I would have said, "Mahler-- What a brilliant way to show off the dynamic range and soul of your orchestra!" I'm sure my Dad would have set me straight on that point, but there's no need to do so anymore, since I have become a Mahlerian. Ever since I was shot through the stomach by the Mahler Hammer when the Symphony offered us their towering version of the Sixth, we haven't missed a one.

The Ninth, so different in tone, but more rewarding in many ways, was exquisitely rendered by the Symphony on opening night. Never has a string armada sounded so layered and rich to me, or so balanced dynamically against the wind section. The horn solos, slightly problematic at times, were nonetheless stirring, and by the time the final movement, with its whispering swells, died away, the audience was left in a puddle.

The only thing that marred an otherwise perfect performance was the presence of a patron in the orchestra with some kind of oxygen support device. Throughout the evening, the click and whoosh of the device could be heard throughout the section of the orchestra I sat in. A reminder of fragile mortality, I suppose, but in the end, one which only frustrated and irritated patrons.

San Francisco Symphony rocks out on "Rite"

It wasn't the "big guns" program -- that would be next week with the much-anticipated Mahler Ninth, but this little gem of a concert proved in its own way how well-deserved San Francisco Symphony's reputation is.

Featuring two Starvinsky works, a "Firebird" suite and also his "Rite of Spring," as well as a palate-cleansing interlude with Tchaikovsky's "Little Russian," the evening was satisfying start to finish.

Filmed for a PBS television series, the program was looking in danger of being buried under the massive cables strung between the clouds in the ceiling, and the dozen or so cameras posted around Davies Symphony Hall. But when the orchestra got down to the business of music, the distractions were easily forgotten.

The abbreviated "Firebird" still evinced all the grandeur and excitement-- perhaps even more than had been generated by the Kirov Orchestra when they appeared with their associated ballet company last season.

Drama, however, was the hallmark of the "Rite," over whose more savory passages Tilson Thomas seemed to linger. Perhaps it was a result of having "Firebird" in the same program, but listening to this performance of the "Rite," I heard far more of the Russian folk origins than I had ever noticed before.

It will be well-worth tuning in when the program is broadcast next year!

A stroll through the Cal Academy

If you haven't hit the new Cal Academy building on Howard Street, take an afternoon to visit. Although there's not quite the space as the old building, they still have some great exhibits and it's well worth the time.

At the moment, the ANTS! exhibit is up, and you can literally spend hours observing those little critters. We found ourselves tracking a particularly intrepid leaf cutter ant as he trekked from the branches of a tree all the way along to 20 foot path laid for him up to the nests.

If you make it past the ants (sadly the army ants have been decimated by an infestation of predatory beetles -- The Trials of Life) there's tons of fun in the aquarium, not the least of which is the Biggest darned sea bass I've ever seen. "But is it ill-tempered?"

He's accompanied by a crowd of moray eels, that I imagine would have the whiny weasally little voice of a Disney cartoon, "Hey, Boss? Boss? Boss, yeah, that's the ticket, Boss, you can take 'em, yeah, go ahead..."

"Aw shaddup," Murray the Sea Bass would belt out.

Marga Gomez at Theater Rhinoceros

I feel like I finally belong in SF. After all these years, I can laugh at the Pride jokes.

Marga Gomez performed her one woman show at Theater Rhinoceros to a delighted crowd last weekend and she was HIGH-larious. Funny, self-deprecating, but smart, smart, smart, Gomez riffed her way through Pride-born relationships with verve and a racy energy.

She's based now in New York, so there were a lot of jokes about Bayonne and Secaucus, but she plays to the hometown crowd as easily as ever.

HOT HOT HOT - so we see a movie

Well it was so godawful hot in San Francisco this last week that we HAD to locate air conditioning. What is wrong with people in this town that they don't understand the need for air conditioning?

Well after turning up empty at the Asian Art MUseum and the SF Public Library, we went to the movies and saw "Hero." A gorgeous flick, well worth the full price of admission. Read more about it here: http://imdb.com/title/tt0299977/

Jet Li is always a favorite, but he has never looked better than he does here. But it's the production itself that's the star. Like Kurosawa's dreams, the cinematographer has painted pictures and fantasies on the screen. And although we've seen similar sequences before, not just in "Crouching Tiger" but in anime classics like "Ninja Scroll" they're no less breathtaking.

Importance of Being Earnest and Force of Nature

Theater season is full swing at last and I'm dizzy with the options. We went to see Cal Shakes' production of "The Importance of Being Earnest." Lots of fun -- but how could you go wrong with Oscar Wilde. The modern sensibilities of his offhanded wit never cease to amaze me.

Jonathan Moscone has conceived a very pretty although spare rendition, which allows for focus on the play itself. The drawing room furnishings at the beginning of the play suggest a comfortably Turkish atmosphere which the actors use for a few additional laughs.

The evening are perfect for being out in the Orinda hills late now. I couldn't help but enjoy the stars, which were beautifully clear that night.

The next night I took the trek to Walnut Creek to catch Playhouse West's "Force of Nature" at the Lesher Center. It wasn't the greatest text, or the most imaginative of situations (Do we have any control over the people we fall in love with?) In fact, in my opinion, the play itself lacked lyricism, even as the actors worked so hard to put it across. I did enjoy seeing Gary Martinez, who played Mittler, again. He had made an impact in Willow Theatre's "Solid Gold Cadillac as McKeever, and it was nice to see him in a drama.

Black Rider, Part Deux

Well, we've seen "The Black Rider, the Casting of the 12 Magic Bullets" twice now and I do have a few more clues.

Firstly, let me say that I did enjoy it a heckuva lot more the second time. I'll grant that the first time round it was still during previews, and by last night, many of the technical glitches (long pauses between scenes, obvious mistimings, sound problems) seemed to be largely ironed out. However, I still walked away from the play unwilling to call it a masterpiece. Perhaps a very interesting experiment, a work-in-progress, but far from satisfying.

A little bit of reading and research after my first viewing turned up some interesting ideas underlying the show. For instance, I had not known that William Burroughs, the author of the play's text, had shot his second wife -- albeit, accidentally -- while attempting to reenact William Tell's shooting an apple off the head of his son. Although he was reputed to be a good marksman, Burroughs missed, with fatal consequences and the incident would color his entire literary career, including the "Black Rider." Indeed, the play's protagonist is named Wilhelm, and I don't think I'm giving away anything to reveal that with his last magic bullet he unintentionally kills his wife.

Among the other pieces of information I learned was that I was not hallucinating and the "Cabaret", "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" proto-Fascist themes were indeed intentional. One commentator even proposed that the extra "ss" that appear in the title on the curtain ("The Black Rider: The Cassting of the Magic Bulletss") were in fact a reference to the Nazi SS. I continue to maintain, though, that I never heard 12 bullets cast, or even 12 bulletss casst and I counted shots during the play. However, I was glad to hear that there was some reasoning behind the choices even if I still couldn't help wanting to slither into a Joel Grey chorus of "Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome..." every time I saw the actors prance out.

Which brings me to what I think I have identified as the thing that really bothered me. As a dancer and a dance reviewer, movement quality stands out to me. Wilson's biography includes time spent with choreographers like Merce Cunningham. But in this auteur-driven production, in which Wilson directed, designed the sets and lighting and choreographed, the movement was the weak point. These actors are not dancers, and yet Wilson's vision of "The Black Rider" seems to demand wildly quirky movement, to go along with the weird voicing and peculiar characterizations. To my mind, this was a style that, frankly, the actors were not prepared to take on.

Although a Wilson-fan might insist that movement was a key consideration in the direction of the play, ("Look at the way they walk, at the way they move their arms just so, at the carefully posed interactions between the characters...") there was a naivete to this "choreography." These are not professional dancers -- there are limits to the movements they were capable of executing while singing and acting in an awkward costume. But the movements they were given never came off as more than elaborate blocking and affected posturing.

It was the kind of thing you or I or really anyone could do -- Ministry of Funny Walks entrances, flowing in and out of scenes with hands posed as if they were choristers, fey wristed Al-Jolson squats -- but nothing so extreme that it matched the oddness of their the clown-white faces or the chilling sound of a prissy falsetto voice dropping into grating, bear-like baritone.

The great Martha Graham once said that movement never lies, and in this case, for me, inauthentic movement sucked away all the interest of the production. It would have been better to hire an actual choreographer -- someone with a background in experimental movement. After all, when the Rider was first developed, Wilson knew he wasn't a composer and instead turned to someone who knew more about music than he did.

The one scene which I liked best, and which I still do, was the scene at the crossroads in act 2. Crossroads are traditionally places of tormented spirits. Back through ancient times, they are associated with the dead, and some traditions note that if you wanted to make a deal with the devil, you went to the crossroads to meet him. The Delta bluesman Robert Johnson evokes just that in his "Cross Road Blues."

"I went down to the crossroads and fell down on my knees, asked the Lord up above for mercy, save poor Bob if you please."

"Black Rider's" crossroads tap into that archaic sense of the evil and mystery at the place where various ways intersect, where people meet and pass without even noticing the tortured character right at the center.

It makes me rue the missed opportunity -- what if the whole evening had been that good?

Black Rider in SF

Okay, I need help.

Yesterday, after a very nice wood-oven pizza at the Grand Cafe with a crew of friends, we went to a preview of the "Black Rider" at ACT's Curran Theater.

Three hours later we emerged in a daze -- not a good daze. I feel like I missed out on being "In the Know" on this one. However, I read someplace that Robert Wilson said he hoped people would come to the show without any preconceptions, totally open-minded. Well there I was with an open mind and the whole shebang sort of whistled through my head without making any kind of a good impact.

Now I'm not the brightest bulb in the whole world, but probably smarter than the average bear, and I have to say I just didn't get what we were supposed to "get" out of this. I understand it was German Expressionist, that it's about making deals with the Devil, that it's avant-garde and a vision of the future of theater without boundaries.

Honestly though, as I told a friend of mine, it looked like the kind of thing we all saw in college. An over-earnest, out-there, absurdist kind of production -- you know the sort, with a naked woman walking across the upstage area pushing a purple vacuum cleaner. But what good does it do you all when the characters and the story have nothing in common with real humans? When it doesn't do anything to illuminate life on Earth?

I do admit, the scene in the second act at the crossroads was visually striking. In fact I would have done away with the opening and closing business of the play (the characters emerge and later retreat into a black coffin-like box) and started with that wordless image. Characters gliding past each other along the legs of a giant illuminated "X," while the protagonist dances at the crux, lost and confused. Now that's the kind of imagery I came to see.

I had a lot more fun at the Ukrainian day at the Botanical Gardens with the Golden Gate Park Band. A Canadian folk dance troupe provided extra entertainment along with two lovely mezzos and a crowd of Ukrainians who sang along to every folk song they played.

Well, I'm going back to "Black Rider" on a press night, so we'll see if they can tighten anything up over the next couple of days. A new report on that Thursday.

I'm also going to check out Cal Shakes' "Importance of Being Earnest" this week, as well as Playhouse West's "Force of Nature."