Not Too Shabby

Got a head-start on the weekend with a re-run of the National Theatre production of Hamlet featuring Benedict Cumberbatch in the title role.  (My friend scored tickets to it from relatives who see pretty much everything that comes to NYC; I think it conflicted with their bridge game.)

There were some interesting choices from the very beginning, including the decision to start with Hamlet sitting on the floor going through his father's old record collection rather than, oh say, for example, Francisco and Bernardo on watch, to be joined shortly by Horatio and Marcellus.  We could almost say the production out-Hamleted Hamlet, an impression only bolstered by Hamlet jumping up on banquet tables and whatnot to deliver monologues without anyone else noticing – they were too busy moving in slow motion in the background, apparently.  When he decides to play at being mad, he dresses up as a toy soldier and goes off to play? mope? in a child's toy castle.  

I can't comment on the entire production, since I fell asleep for bits of it, but one artistic choice that really failed for me was the decision to fill the floor of Elsinore castle with ashes or rubble at the end of the first half, and leave it that way for the rest of the show.  It made the place look like a complete wreck, which fatally undercut Ophelia's descent into madness.  It's already difficult for a sturdy young woman to play Ophelia, whose psychological frailty is more plausible on a physically frail frame.  But to have her do this in a castle that seems to have suffered its own devastation seems pointless.  There's no remnant of cleanness and sanity to contrast with her own pathetic state.  

Although it was a nice touch for Gertrude to open up Ophelia's abandoned suitcase, see Ophelia's prized possession (a camera, perhaps in homage to the 2000 Hamlet with Ethan Hawke), realize with horror that Ophelia was headed for her death, and run after her.  This was done silently and effectively – somewhat like the wonderful scene in the first Hobbit movie where Martin Freeman decides to go on the adventure after all, moving from relief at being off the hook to realization of how empty his tidy little life is to a sudden conviction that this is his Chance.  With nothing more than subtle facial expressions, he lets us see that he has chosen to give life a shot, rather than remaining in stultifying stasis and sleepwalking to his grave.  

But I digress.  One other thing worth mentioning from the production: Hamberbatch wears a Bowie t-shirt.  This is important because....

Saturday started with a visit to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden – hope springs eternal for the crocuses – followed by a tour of the Brooklyn Museum with a friend from the Tolkien world.  We cooled our heels at an exhibit of blue stuff, Korean art, and Egyptian artifacts (one take-away: Hieratic is apparently cursive writing for hieroglyphs),  before we gained admittance to ... the David Bowie exhibition!  It was quite interesting and extensive.  I won't say exhaustive, since my friend thought of a few things that were missing, but they were certainly thorough enough to display a tissue purportedly used to wipe the lipstick off Bowie's face after a concert (cf. Weird Al Yankovic's "Ebay").  Bowie's filmography was more extensive than I'd have guessed (it's a lot more than Labyrinth, which I also haven't seen), but we got to see snippets of many of them.  There were abundant costumes and music videos, sketches for publicity, set design, choreography, lots of displays and discussions about his influences and collaborations, and even a concert experience room.    There were many fascinating details, including an almost gushing thank-you letter from his mother for something or other he'd done for her – but in a postscript, she asked him not to show the letter to anyone because she didn't want to be deluged with fan mail!  A woman after my own heart.

But it was also somewhat funny at times to see a pop icon described in museumspeak.  They made a point of mentioning more than once that Bowie remained productive during the worst of his drug addiction (it seemed like the early 1970's in Los Angeles), though they were more than vague about medical details such as how and when he kicked his habit(s).   

There's probably more to say about the exhibition, but I was glad they played "Diamond Dogs" and "Rebel Rebel" while I was in the concert area.


Sunday was productive – I prepared a presentation and slideshow on "King Sheave" and finalized my abstract for Paper 2 just in time for a festive birthday celebration at Kunjip in K-town with some friends.  I'd already celebrated this friend's birthday last weekend with brunch at Maialino near Grammercy Park, but it was great to get together again for Korean barbecue.  We all tried soju, as well, sipping the plain and peach versions from little shot glasses.  

Come From Away, Medusa

We got to see a bit of the Assyrian exhibit at
no extra charge

We came for "Dangerous Beauty: Medusa in Classical Art," but we got to see a bit of the Assyrian exhibit at no extra charge!  (OK, there's technically no charge, since I'm a member, but whatevs.)

The Medusa exhibit was just one small room -- not too overwhelming, even for those without much patience for museum trips.

I don't remember seeing Medusa with snakes neatly tied under her neck before, but honestly that didn't really faze me.

No, the truly big revelation was that Medusa had wings.  On her head.

But I suppose it makes sense, if a winged horse is to emerge from her body on decapitation...

Pegasus emerges from the decapitated (but winged) Medusa

Now THAT'S a scary Gorgon head on his shield!

In the same room, they had some other female monsters, such as the siren shown here to the right.  She's still mostly bird at this phase – apparently these monsters started out mostly as animals but became more and more human (and beautiful) over time.

But right after I took this photo (right), I started noticing something very interesting just outside the room, on the window sill.  I spent a while trying to capture it....

Life imitating Art

We went back downstairs to find Perseus holding the Gorgon's head and wandered around the statuary for a bit.

Gaping Maw of the Sea Monster

It does not seem to be Andromeda's lucky day

Nice shoes, Perseus!

The statue of Perseus holding Medusa's head was nice enough, but B pointed out that Athena's help doesn't seem to have prevented Perseus from turning to stone.

Also, even though he's wearing the winged cap, he is Clearly Visible.

Poor guy.  Rookie mistakes.

dreaming of stilettos

F is for François Ier

So after the museum, we went over to E.A.T.  I'd meant to navigate to a different diner, the Lexington Candy Bar, but I mislabeled the address at home, and didn't think about the fact that the LEXINGTON diner was not likely to be on MADISON AVE.  Oh well.  It was fine except for the crying babies and the fact that they took a long time to seat and serve us.  So we rushed through the meal and grabbed an uber across town to the theater.  That worked so smoothly we even got there a little early.   We didn't fancy the line at Starbucks or Junior's, so we went to the Junior's To Go door, which was perfect.  We got back to the theatre lobby at 1:45 pm...  And it was still strangely uncrowded.  And suddenly we realized... it was a 3 pm show, not a 2 pm.  OOPS.

As for "Come From Away" – it was wonderful.   I thought it would not touch me too deeply, since it's set entirely in Newfoundland, and it portrays events that took place 15+ years ago.  Cue 100 minutes of deep belly laughs interspersed with crying. Excellent music. And acting. Wonderful characters and story threads. The girls loved it, but were not affected as my brother and I were; they weren't even alive at the time.  I noticed C looking over in my direction several times during the show, so I tried to control my crying somewhat.  She reported afterward that her dad cried almost the entire show.

I probably would not have attended had I realized it would have no intermission, but I'm glad I did.

Night at the Skyscraper Museum & the China Institute

It hadn't been on my radar, but I saw the sign and it opened up my mind, as they say.  I decided to try two new museums this year.

I was very encouraged by the sidewalk art promoting the Skyscraper Museum:

American Surety

The commentary on this photo of the American Surety building was interesting: "Price conceived of his skyscraper as a campanile, in the spirit of the tower of San Marco in Venice. Classical in its references, the form and facade was organized as a column, with a base, shaft, and capital, or, as Price noted, as pilaster, with 'the seven flutes being replaced by seven rows of windows.'"


But overall, I was underwhelmed by the photographs and models on display.  I was expecting something more like David Macaulay's work, which tends to make architecture intriguing and accessible to the untutored.  So this miniscule museum about big buildings was wasted on me.  (Other people, clearly not as ignorant as I, seemed to be enjoying the displays immensely.)  In any event, it was pretty much on my way to the China Institute...

The first room of "Dreams of the Kings: A Jade Suit for Eternity" was not very exciting.  But once you enter the second room, WOW!  It was like a suit of armor made of mahjong tiles.  Each tile is connected to its neighbors by tiny gold wires; the red ribbon seams are presumably where the pieces got sewn together.  My own pictures did not do it justice, so I took photos of the posters outside.

They had some other interesting items as well, but the jade suit was extraordinary.  Definitely worth a visit.

Happy Father's Day - Botticelli at the MFA

[Under construction ... I'm hoping to go back and revise]

Talk about instant gratification!  I saw a friend's post about this exhibit on my way north, and once I arrived, I talked my parents into going to see it!  That was really helpful, since it's only running through July 9.  (Thanks, Mom and Dad!!)

The MFA is not very modest about "Botticelli and the Search for the Divine":

The exhibition, the largest and most important display of Botticelli’s works in the United States, features 24 paintings from international lenders and the MFA’s own Virgin and Child with Saint John the Baptist (about 1500) as well as important loans from Harvard and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

Ariella Budick, writing for the Financial Times, takes a much more dour and cynical view, namely that

the show observes [Botticelli's] decline with relentless optimism. As he moved towards God, his work grew lifeless — or, as a wall label would have it, ever more “lyrical”, “powerful” and “intimately personal”.

Orpheus and Cerberus - NOT BOTTICELLI

Oh, nothing - just a little throwaway sketch on the back of a commissioned painting

Filippo Lippi and workshop (Botticelli), Annunciation, ca. 1464Museo di Palazzo Pretorio Piazza del Commune

Gauzy fabric for swaddling cloths

Minerva and the Centaur (ca. 1482)
Tempera on canvas. Galleria degli Uffizi.

Cate McQuaid, writing for the Boston Globe, says: “Birth of Venus” and “Primavera” are not here; as state treasures, they never leave Italy. But there are other gems. “Minerva and the Centaur,” like those two, draws on classical mythology and depicts a scene not found in any one myth.

Minerva [...] stands unruffled and proud in a transparent robe embroidered with the Medici insignia, one hand clasping a battle axe[...]. The conquered [centaur] wears the miserable expression of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The painting has everything we love about Botticelli: the extraordinary grace of his lines; a serene, alabaster beauty, here a symbol of virtue triumphing over baser instincts; a composition that leads the eye along elegant, curving paths.

Budick takes a different view, characterizing Minerva as "[l]anky and athletic almost to the point of deformity" with a "quasi-grotesque loveliness" that is "thrown into relief by the centaur's awkward misery.  Minerva gently strokes the half-beast’s curls, and his corrugated face twists into a mask of tragic regret. We don’t quite know what’s happening here: is Minerva subduing the beast or befriending him?"

I think the truth is partway between McQuaid's assessment and Budick's.  I would note, in answer to Budick's question, that Minerva is clearly not befriending the centaur -- friends just don't grab friends by the hair.

Virgin & Child w Young Saint John the Baptist (ca. 1505)
Tempera on canvas. Galleria Palatina, Palazzo Pitti, Florence.

Here, I loved the angle for the faces of Jesus and John; they seem almost to merge into one.

Virgin & Child w Saint John the Baptist (ca. 1500)
Tempera on panel. Sarah Greene Timmins Fund.

The horses' faces look almost cartoonish to me

Adoration of the Magi (ca. 1500). Tempera on panel. Galleria degli Uffizi

Jacopo de Sellaio, The Story of Psyche (ca. 1490)
This one seems to show action through time by depicting Psyche at multiple stages.

In the exhibit, Botticelli was accompanied by da Sellaio, the Lippis (father and son), and Pollaiuolo.

Of the Sellaio work (above), the MFA says: "Sellaio’s style is based on that of the principal Florentine painters of his time, particularly Botticelli. The painting originally decorated a wooden chest in which linens and household objects were stored."

The Muscarelle.org site identifies the work to the left as

Antonio del Pollaiolo
Saint Michael Killing the Dragon, before 1465
Oil on canvas
Florence, Museo Stefano Bardini

St. Michael Archangel by Antonio Del Pollaiolo
Oil on canvas. Museo Stefano Bardini, Florence.

(Nearby was Pollaiolo's The Battle of the [Male] Nudes...)

Virgin & Child (ca. 1478-80)
aka "Madonna of the Book"
Tempera and gold on panel.
Museo Poldi Pezzoli, Milan. 

The colors are extraordinary, and precious.  Apparently, "in the final layer of this work he used only lapis lazuli for the blue sections" according to Dr Annalisa Zanni's research as reported in 2012.

The show was not huge, so we headed off to explore the rest of the museum (or at least the Robert McCloskey exhibit) until closing time.  Inevitably, we saw a few other cool things en route...

[Note: I'd like to go back and actually read this blog post, which helped me initially identify the Sellaio and Pollaiolo paintings.  It looks very scholarly.]

Crocodile

Rabbit

What McCloskey was doing before Blueberries for Sal...

There were also studies for Make Way for Ducklings and other works.  I hadn't known about most of the others.  His last book, Burt Dow, Deep Water-man (1963), starred a fisherman:

initial idea...

... and final (published) result!

This is how the fisherman escapes the belly of the whale --
perhaps a tribute to Jackson Pollock (1912-1956)?

We lingered in a ship-themed room as well, before the PA system brought us the sad news that it was time to go.

shh! it's only a model.

On Sunday, we got together at a place called Canoe.  We had to eat and run so I could catch my return transportation, but it was great to have three generations together!