A Capraesque Moment or Two in Trafalgar Square

The Mobile Manhattanite is more mobile than usual this holiday season, spending a couple of weeks in London. Yesterday, passing through tourist-clogged Leicester Square and helpfully taking some photos at the requests of two sets of appreciative Japanese teenagers, I was delighted to see the square's annual holiday fun fair in full swing.

Later, on the way to the National Gallery, I heard martial music and saw, over the heads of a moderately large crowd in Trafalgar Square, some white plumes on black Stetsons. Drawing closer, I heard strains of a Beatles song and then saw the spiffily garbed members of the Santa Monica High School Vikings Marching Band, visiting from California to take part in the London Parade for the New Year. Nearby, waiting in the wings, so to speak, was the Cedarburg, Wisconsin High School Marching Band, resplendent in black and orange. The two bands represented, for me, an America of a more innocent time. Maybe this America still exists, to some extent. The Cedarburg contingent later got their chance with, after an extended percussion flourish, a rather stately rendering of "St. Louis Blues." Perhaps I had to come to London to be reminded of this Capraesque vision of the U.S.A. For these kids it may still be A Wonderful Life, at least for a while. Afterwards, the splendors of the National Gallery provided a true contrast. Is this what the pundits mean by the "culture wars"?

http://www.samohiband.org/

http://www.londonparade.co.uk/event/participants/details.asp?id=1971

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=lQr6hg0NozQ

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/

Eastwood Rides Again!

Had always idly wondered about the super-smooth artwork on those ads plastered on the sides of NYC buildings. How exactly does it get there? There happens to be a space right across the street from me, just over the East River Deli, where various ads, mostly for movies, have appeared over the years.  This morning I happened to be looking out of the window and had my question answered: How do they get those nice-looking pictures up? A hard-working guy in a cherry picker is the answer. Here's the latest, for the newest Clint Eastwood opus, Gran Torino. Guess it must be about cars! Duh.

Speaking of American Icon Eastwood, I remember that a former colleague's Spanish-born ex-husband (note how everything seems to be in the past), whose English was otherwise excellent, just couldn't get this star's name right at first, referring to him as "East Cleentswood."

Update: Apparently a car does figure in the film, which just received excellent reviews BTW, but it's really about a bigot learning to tolerate immigrant neighbors. Haven't seen it yet. 

Chanukah, Saturnalia, Kwanzaa, and—Oh, Yes—Christmas

O.K., the season that 'tis has arrived again. The forced gaiety can be oppressive. It's handy to be Jewish at Christmas, as one can safely ignore a lot of the pressure, although they've inflated Chanukah to an alarming degree. And the Feast of Lights lasts eight days, yet. Well, anyway....

However, I'm happy to see that the venerable advertising agency Ogilvy and Mather has once again delighted those of us who discovered its teddy-bear Christmas tree. It's on a comparatively obscure block of West 49th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, as well as being located slightly off the street. Found it two years ago, and the bears were red. Last year they decided to make it with black-and-white pandas which, while attractive, couldn't compete with the red teddies. So I'm glad to see that they're back to Square One this year.

A couple of years ago, someone thoughtfully videoed the tree for YouTube:

YouTube - Ogilvy Holiday Bear Tree

Minetta Lane, Old and New

Just returned from the Minetta Lane Theater, where I saw a remarkable performance of Martha Clarke's dance-theater piece The Garden of Earthly Delights. It's based on the famed Hieronymus Bosch triptych that I've seen in Madrid at the Prado and in many reproductions, but, to me, it also had references to Dante's Inferno and the Dance of Death scene at the end of Ingmar Bergman's marvelous The Seventh Seal. At any rate, it's an hour and ten minutes well spent. Also in the show I saw a dancer I know from my own ballet class. Will congratulate her when I see her in class, not only on her performance but on her courage in taking part in a lot of Flying by Foy and aerial acrobatics. I missed this work when it was first done and am glad to have caught it at last.

I don't know if the charming Minetta Lane 1928 painting by Glenn O. Coleman (1884–1932) is the same one I remember being shown in a college class in American art many years ago. This one is now housed in the Musée de la Coöperation Franco-Américaine in Blérancourt, France. Probably many artists painted this quaint Greenwich Village street in the days when this location was full of artistic ferment of all kinds. At least there's still an active theater here. I was taken with  the white house with all the greenery, even though it doesn't have an old Village look. 

Moose Matters

Since moose have been much in the news lately, I was reminded that I own this potholder. It was a gift that came, I think, from a family visit to the Adirondacks some years ago. I always wanted to see a live moose in the wild but have not had that pleasure. I saw a couple of them in a modest game reserve on a recent visit to Russia. I guess they couldn't see Alaska from their vantage point, though. 

An October Afternoon in DUMBO

It's been a year or so since I visited DUMBO—one of our numerous city acronyms, this one for for "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass"—in Brooklyn to see the work of artists living and working there. They open their studios, concentrated in this formerly industrial area, to visitors. As a nearly lifelong New Yorker, I am ashamed to say that visits to Brooklyn have been sparse and mostly confined to attending performances at BAM, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, that hosts many of the world's great performing arts groups. DUMBO was a revelation, combining Greenwich Village–like conviviality and charm with marvelous water views and vistas of Manhattan. And there's the gorgeous Brooklyn Bridge, too. Like many beauties, this bridge doesn't have a bad angle, as this quickly taken camera-phone shot from Water Street, in front of St. Ann's Warehouse, attests.

My purpose in visiting DUMBO this time was to see a performance of the much-admired National Theatre of Scotland production of Black Watch, and this totally original piece of theater certainly lived up to its reputation. Here's Ben Brantley's reprise of his review from last year, when they first brought the show to Brooklyn:

Theater Review - 'Black Watch' - From National Theater of Scotland, a Unit Back From War but Without Peace, Returning to St. Ann’s Warehouse - NYTimes.com

In ‘Black Watch,’ a Band of Brothers With Camaraderie Forged on the Boards - NYTimes.com

So, Black Watch was a thrill, but I also encountered, inadvertently, a bonus. Practically next door to St. Ann's Warehouse is Jane's Carousel, also pictured above, which is a treat indeed. You can't ride on it, only look at it, but this is quite enough for me, as readers—if there are any—of this blog note that I love the Bryant Park carousel as well but am too embarrassed actually to get on it. More info about Jane's Carousel, which was also featured on CBS Sunday Morning, can be found on its own Web site:

(- JANE'S CAROUSEL -)

Make sure to click on "About Us" on the site in order to see other great shots (better than mine) of the carousel. Now I have to see how the one in Central Park is looking these days. I hope it's still in operation and that they still have that good, old-fashioned merry-go-round music.

Update: It is still in operation, and they have music from the original Wurlitzer! Must check in while the weather is still nice!

Hearing Air(s) at the Opera

Last night's Metropolitan Opera performance of that lovely old chestnut, Donizetti's wonderful Lucia di Lammermoor, was a revelation. I thought I'd heard enough performances of Mad Lucy by most of the major interpreters of the 20th century to last the rest of my life, but I was wrong. The incredibly talented young German soprano Diana Damrau had absolutely everything in the role: vocal beauty and accuracy spiced with expressive variety, theater-worthy acting ability, grace, and personal charisma. She was ably seconded by the fine Polish tenor Piotr Beczala who, unlike most Edgardos, received almost equal kudos after the Tomb Scene. And people stayed around after the Mad Scene to hear him, too! We were given a bonus view of Lucia herself, as, in Mary Zimmerman's extremely creative Victorian-style production, her ghost appears to embrace the dying Edgardo. Bravi tutti!

An otherwise nearly perfect evening at the opera (where everything is almost as beautiful as at the ballet) poses a question worthy of Randy Cohen, who writes "The Ethicist" column in the Sunday New York Times Magazine: What do you do about an elderly gentleman sitting behind you who is apparently wearing some kind of breathing apparatus (not visible) that makes a steady hissing on-and-off sound during the entire evening? You can't ask the old guy to stop breathing, can you? Does such a person have the right to attend the theater at all and disturb others as much as does the ringing of cellphones or the whistling of improperly adjusted hearing aids? At least those can finally be silenced (after much effort on the part of audience members and theater staff). Well, my solution, and the solution of a neighboring couple, was to find other seats. I had to wait until after (hiss, hiss) Act I, although they, sitting on an aisle, were able to do so directly after the prelude. Lucky that there were a few empty seats (your loss, absentees!), perhaps because it was Yom Kippur eve. Some years ago a Carnegie Hall lieder recital by the great Belgian bass-baritone José Van Dam was marred by someone's whistling hearing aid. And there was no way to tell where the noise was coming from; there was no escape. I was more fortunate last evening.

I feel sorry for the poor breather and suppose he should be allowed out at public events, but maybe not at straight plays or classical music performances. What is to be done? With the advent of podcasts, DVDs, and DVRs, perhaps he can find it in his heart to stay at home. I wonder what Randy would say? But I'm not going to ask him, because his answer would probably be the same as mine.