A little fun with Clay Aiken and his Timeless Tour back-up singer, Casey Thompson, set to "Eso Beso" as performed during Clay's PBS special, "Tried & True Live"
The dancers are Allison Holker and Italo Elgueta.
Download available: Ooo That Kiss
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
A Picture of Mr. Ripley
Back from the Round House Theatre's first show of the 2010-11 season, The Talented Mr. Ripley, adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel by playwright Phyllis Nagy and director Blake Robison.
I'm sorry to say I was disappointed in the production, a faint echo of last season's opener, the similarly themed A Picture of Dorian Gray. Whereas the Oscar Wilde classic had complexity and a cunning charm (not to mention RHT's stunning production, a spiffy Sixties rendering of Warholian decadance), the talents of this Ripley guy eluded me.
Nothing wrong with the acting (Karl Miller in the title role), but the static set and dreary, low-key direction couldn't keep me from drifting off.
Maybe it was just me. Tired, achy, a long day at work, and a good full meal before the show. But maybe it wasn't me. Who knows. Last year the Washington Post hated "A Picture of Dorian Gray," whereas I loved it and thought it one of the bravest productions RHT had ever done. So probably WaPo will love their Mr. Ripley--the couple sitting next to me did.
Anyway, that's my recap. Time for bed.
love, hosaa
wondering if I am officially a little old lady, with endurance only for the Sunday matinees anymore....
I'm sorry to say I was disappointed in the production, a faint echo of last season's opener, the similarly themed A Picture of Dorian Gray. Whereas the Oscar Wilde classic had complexity and a cunning charm (not to mention RHT's stunning production, a spiffy Sixties rendering of Warholian decadance), the talents of this Ripley guy eluded me.
Nothing wrong with the acting (Karl Miller in the title role), but the static set and dreary, low-key direction couldn't keep me from drifting off.
Maybe it was just me. Tired, achy, a long day at work, and a good full meal before the show. But maybe it wasn't me. Who knows. Last year the Washington Post hated "A Picture of Dorian Gray," whereas I loved it and thought it one of the bravest productions RHT had ever done. So probably WaPo will love their Mr. Ripley--the couple sitting next to me did.
Anyway, that's my recap. Time for bed.
love, hosaa
wondering if I am officially a little old lady, with endurance only for the Sunday matinees anymore....
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Corcoran, Close, Renwick, and Rockwell
Back from the Corcoran and Renwick galleries, so also catching up on the Norman Rockwell exhibition I saw earlier in the week. Corcoran is an independent institution, while the Renwick is part of the Smithsonian's American Art Museum, which hosted the Rockwell exhibition. I like pairing Corcoran and Renwick because they're only a couple of blocks apart; Renwick is off the mall-beaten path for most Smithsonian goers and so less densely populated with tourists.
Today was Corcoran's last "free Saturday" of the summer, where the doors are open for the public to sketch live models in the lobby. Fortunately for me the Chuck Close exhibit was extended, so I got to participate in art and see the exhibit.
This was my first taste of the open sketching event. I like to doodle wherever I go, but my skills were far behind those who attended today, so I gave up. I enjoyed the view of other participatants much better.
In addition to sketchers, there were singers: a performance by the Washington Revels was going on upstairs, just outside the galleries containing the Close exhibit.
The Chuck Close prints exhibit was interesting to me because I hadn't studied his work since college, which at the time would have stopped with his photorealism work. After that, he began experimenting with materials and techniques, from paper pulp to his own fingerprints.
This work would seem to me to fall more into the realm of craft, which is what the Renwick specializes in.
The Renwick's permanent collection features paintings that most of us would consider art, but also pieces that showcase the skill (craft) of working with materials such as clay, glass, fabric, and wood.
The featured exhibition at Renwick was "The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American Internment Camps 1942-1946." The objects in the collection were largely made of found materials--scrap wood, metals, shells, and other pieces.
This demonstrated an impulse to create that transcended the degradation to which humans had been exposed. It would be the same impulse that led Chuck Close to continue to create and experiment and express his vision despite physical disabilities.
Returning to the Norman Rockwell exhibit, "Telling Stories: Norman Rockwell. From the Collections of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg," I'm drawn to the "realism" of his technique, much as I was to Chuck Close's earlier works. Whereas Rockwell's realism was more idealized, Close's was more hyper-realistic. Both forced an idea of reality onto the viewer that is actually quite artificial. One did it with whimsy, carefully casting his scenes with real actors and constructing the sets, and the other with a startling focus on that most intimate of subjects, the face, decontextualizing it through sheer scale.
Before I even decided to see the Rockwell exhibit, I'd read a review (rant, actually) that lambasted this art as propaganda for an idealized America that never existed. Rockwell was a commercial illustrator; of course the images were selling something. I've never felt that diminished the work as art. My favorite piece in the collection, showing a writer dreaming of Daniel Boone, was an ad for Underwood Typewriters.
Back over to the Renwick, I loved the objects in the permanent collection, though I have to say I am bitterly disappointed to have bought a book from the gift shop that featured only one of the objects I saw today (Chihuly's glass cylinder; see above). The book, it turns out, was published in 1998. That's like a century ago, right?
Anyway, the most popular piece today was this glass dress by Karen LaMonte.
I say it was a popular piece because I had to wait about 10 minutes to get a clear shot of it. There were three women who took turns taking photos of each other with their heads sticking up out of the neckline of the glass dress.
Actually, it made me smile to see that. What started over at the Corcoran a couple of hours earlier--a day of people experiencing art at a very personal level--was just being carried over by these ladies enjoying a work of exquisite craft.
It is why we create, is it not?
love, hosaa
observing observers of life and art
Credit: All photos by C. G. Wagner
Today was Corcoran's last "free Saturday" of the summer, where the doors are open for the public to sketch live models in the lobby. Fortunately for me the Chuck Close exhibit was extended, so I got to participate in art and see the exhibit.
This was my first taste of the open sketching event. I like to doodle wherever I go, but my skills were far behind those who attended today, so I gave up. I enjoyed the view of other participatants much better.
In addition to sketchers, there were singers: a performance by the Washington Revels was going on upstairs, just outside the galleries containing the Close exhibit.
The Chuck Close prints exhibit was interesting to me because I hadn't studied his work since college, which at the time would have stopped with his photorealism work. After that, he began experimenting with materials and techniques, from paper pulp to his own fingerprints.
This work would seem to me to fall more into the realm of craft, which is what the Renwick specializes in.
The Renwick's permanent collection features paintings that most of us would consider art, but also pieces that showcase the skill (craft) of working with materials such as clay, glass, fabric, and wood.
 |
| Grand Salon, Renwick Gallery |
 |
| Blanket Cylinder Series (1984) Dale Chihuly |
This demonstrated an impulse to create that transcended the degradation to which humans had been exposed. It would be the same impulse that led Chuck Close to continue to create and experiment and express his vision despite physical disabilities.
Returning to the Norman Rockwell exhibit, "Telling Stories: Norman Rockwell. From the Collections of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg," I'm drawn to the "realism" of his technique, much as I was to Chuck Close's earlier works. Whereas Rockwell's realism was more idealized, Close's was more hyper-realistic. Both forced an idea of reality onto the viewer that is actually quite artificial. One did it with whimsy, carefully casting his scenes with real actors and constructing the sets, and the other with a startling focus on that most intimate of subjects, the face, decontextualizing it through sheer scale.
Before I even decided to see the Rockwell exhibit, I'd read a review (rant, actually) that lambasted this art as propaganda for an idealized America that never existed. Rockwell was a commercial illustrator; of course the images were selling something. I've never felt that diminished the work as art. My favorite piece in the collection, showing a writer dreaming of Daniel Boone, was an ad for Underwood Typewriters.
Back over to the Renwick, I loved the objects in the permanent collection, though I have to say I am bitterly disappointed to have bought a book from the gift shop that featured only one of the objects I saw today (Chihuly's glass cylinder; see above). The book, it turns out, was published in 1998. That's like a century ago, right?
Anyway, the most popular piece today was this glass dress by Karen LaMonte.
 |
| "Reclining Dress Impression with Drapery" (2009) |
I say it was a popular piece because I had to wait about 10 minutes to get a clear shot of it. There were three women who took turns taking photos of each other with their heads sticking up out of the neckline of the glass dress.
Actually, it made me smile to see that. What started over at the Corcoran a couple of hours earlier--a day of people experiencing art at a very personal level--was just being carried over by these ladies enjoying a work of exquisite craft.
It is why we create, is it not?
love, hosaa
observing observers of life and art
Credit: All photos by C. G. Wagner
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Great Grottoes
As most Clay Aiken fans know, after a tour has ended, the Man is inclined to retreat to what we lovingly call his "man-cave." There's something to be said for having a great grotto (though depending on which rumors you believe, he may be in the process of finding a new grotto... who knows? Maybe back to Wake Co., an area of political interest to him).
Grottoes may or may not have added geological appeal to the Man, again depending on which rumors you believe. I can't say that it was geology necessarily that led me to my day trip today. But it was Clay. Or rather, a nice long drive gave me the opportunity to listen to my two-disc custom made CD of the Timeless Tour (Biloxi show) featuring Clay and Ruben Studdard, and an interest of mine was (irrationally) Boonsboro, Maryland (irrational because it should be spelled with an e, having been founded by cousins of Daniel Boone).
A change of scenery is always good for someone who lives in a box--a noisy city box. In searching the Net for Boonsboro, I found a couple of interesting destinations: Washington Monument State Park and Crystal Grottoes Caverns.
So off I went, on a hot day with the a/c and CA blasting. First stop is Washington Monument, which isn't the one you're thinking of. This was actually (according to the brochure) the first monument completed in honor of George Washington, built by the citizens of Boonsboro in 1827.
The monument was used by the Union Army as a signal tower during the Civil War, as it offered an outstanding view of the valley below, including Middletown, Maryland.
Truthfully, I didn't spend a lot of time contemplating history. It was hot, and I am in no way an outdoor cat. I met a sweet kid on the Appalachian Trail, passing through from Maine on her way to Georgia. Now there's someone who won't be grottoed.
Got back in the car and let Clay and Ruben continue toward the end of the first half of their concert... In mileage, I can't tell you how far away from my apartment Boonsboro is, but it is just a little bit more than half the length of the Timeless Tour, which was over two hours.
In Boonsboro, head west on Rte 34 to get to Crystal Grottoes Caverns.
I was glad to see a family from New Jersey waiting for the "next tour," which was apparently whenever there were enough people to take down to the caverns. The young man leading us was not a professional geologist, but learned all he needed on the job, which he'd been doing for about a year. This cavern has (according to the brochure) "more formations per square foot than any Cave known to man and is the most naturally kept Caverns in the world."
Okay, of course there's something Clay related in all this. The formations in their natural state are covered in clay. Heh. Our young guide explained that there is a massive "noncommercial" area of the caverns that are still being excavated, explored, cleaned. I asked what they used to clean the clay off the formations, and he said "toothbrushes and toothpaste." I confess to wondering whether it was cinnamon or mint.
This was a day trip for me, and a pleasant one at that. I had brought my computer and an overnight bag with me in case I wanted to stay over. Boonsboro didn't offer much else to attract me, certainly not the cafe that also offered guns and ammunition. Middletown was a nice stop for lunch, but I really did want to head back home.
To my grotto - and Clay and Ruben along the way.
Love, hosaa
caving
Credit: All photos by C. G. Wagner
Grottoes may or may not have added geological appeal to the Man, again depending on which rumors you believe. I can't say that it was geology necessarily that led me to my day trip today. But it was Clay. Or rather, a nice long drive gave me the opportunity to listen to my two-disc custom made CD of the Timeless Tour (Biloxi show) featuring Clay and Ruben Studdard, and an interest of mine was (irrationally) Boonsboro, Maryland (irrational because it should be spelled with an e, having been founded by cousins of Daniel Boone).
A change of scenery is always good for someone who lives in a box--a noisy city box. In searching the Net for Boonsboro, I found a couple of interesting destinations: Washington Monument State Park and Crystal Grottoes Caverns.
So off I went, on a hot day with the a/c and CA blasting. First stop is Washington Monument, which isn't the one you're thinking of. This was actually (according to the brochure) the first monument completed in honor of George Washington, built by the citizens of Boonsboro in 1827.
The monument was used by the Union Army as a signal tower during the Civil War, as it offered an outstanding view of the valley below, including Middletown, Maryland.
Truthfully, I didn't spend a lot of time contemplating history. It was hot, and I am in no way an outdoor cat. I met a sweet kid on the Appalachian Trail, passing through from Maine on her way to Georgia. Now there's someone who won't be grottoed.
Got back in the car and let Clay and Ruben continue toward the end of the first half of their concert... In mileage, I can't tell you how far away from my apartment Boonsboro is, but it is just a little bit more than half the length of the Timeless Tour, which was over two hours.
In Boonsboro, head west on Rte 34 to get to Crystal Grottoes Caverns.
I was glad to see a family from New Jersey waiting for the "next tour," which was apparently whenever there were enough people to take down to the caverns. The young man leading us was not a professional geologist, but learned all he needed on the job, which he'd been doing for about a year. This cavern has (according to the brochure) "more formations per square foot than any Cave known to man and is the most naturally kept Caverns in the world."
Okay, of course there's something Clay related in all this. The formations in their natural state are covered in clay. Heh. Our young guide explained that there is a massive "noncommercial" area of the caverns that are still being excavated, explored, cleaned. I asked what they used to clean the clay off the formations, and he said "toothbrushes and toothpaste." I confess to wondering whether it was cinnamon or mint.
This was a day trip for me, and a pleasant one at that. I had brought my computer and an overnight bag with me in case I wanted to stay over. Boonsboro didn't offer much else to attract me, certainly not the cafe that also offered guns and ammunition. Middletown was a nice stop for lunch, but I really did want to head back home.
To my grotto - and Clay and Ruben along the way.
Love, hosaa
caving
Credit: All photos by C. G. Wagner
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Dormant
Sad to have to take a week off work to catch up on personal business, but so it goes.
Today's task was at long last closing my mom's estate account. There was money in it, but just waiting to pay myself back for a variety of expenses - my share of the funeral expenses, the lawyer's fees, some medical bills.
In looking over the papers before I went to the bank, I saw where I was supposed to have done all this about a year and a half ago. But how could I, when it took this long to make sure all the clerical errors being made by the insurance company and the nursing home got cleared up?
(Example - insurance company sent me a check. I deposited it in the estate account. Then, a few months later, the insurance company said it was a mistake, so send it back. Since I set up the account as a savings account rather than checking, I paid out of my own pocket. Another example - the nursing home mistakenly deposited a check in my mom's resident's account after I'd closed it. I told them to return it to Social Security, but a year later they sent me another update of the funds in the account and the interest earned. I did my best. I ignored them.)
Anyway, more than two years after she died, I'm closing business. But when I tried to have the bank transfer the closed estate account and into my open savings account, there was a problem.
My savings account was "dormant." I hadn't added to or withdrawn from it in a long time. Why should I? It doesn't earn any interest to speak of. Might as well just leave it all in my checking account.
It didn't take much effort for my banker to reactivate the account. But it made me think about all the things in my life that have been left dormant, de-activated by neglect. Example - I passed through my childbearing years without incident, which seemed to have brought menopause to a very early resolution. (Thank goodness, by the way!)
Another thing I've noticed during this "staycation" - my list of minor little "homework" tasks to attend to this week are just as easily interrupted as my work tasks are. Example: needing to go to the hardware store for a new vacuum cleaner and fluorescent tubes for the kitchen instead of doing the second of two banking businesses (having the credit union drop my dad's name from our joint account - he died almost three years ago).
It seems an inescapable truth... life is what happens while you're making other plans. And the rest of it lies dormant.
love, hosaa
dealing with dormancy
Today's task was at long last closing my mom's estate account. There was money in it, but just waiting to pay myself back for a variety of expenses - my share of the funeral expenses, the lawyer's fees, some medical bills.
In looking over the papers before I went to the bank, I saw where I was supposed to have done all this about a year and a half ago. But how could I, when it took this long to make sure all the clerical errors being made by the insurance company and the nursing home got cleared up?
(Example - insurance company sent me a check. I deposited it in the estate account. Then, a few months later, the insurance company said it was a mistake, so send it back. Since I set up the account as a savings account rather than checking, I paid out of my own pocket. Another example - the nursing home mistakenly deposited a check in my mom's resident's account after I'd closed it. I told them to return it to Social Security, but a year later they sent me another update of the funds in the account and the interest earned. I did my best. I ignored them.)
Anyway, more than two years after she died, I'm closing business. But when I tried to have the bank transfer the closed estate account and into my open savings account, there was a problem.
My savings account was "dormant." I hadn't added to or withdrawn from it in a long time. Why should I? It doesn't earn any interest to speak of. Might as well just leave it all in my checking account.
It didn't take much effort for my banker to reactivate the account. But it made me think about all the things in my life that have been left dormant, de-activated by neglect. Example - I passed through my childbearing years without incident, which seemed to have brought menopause to a very early resolution. (Thank goodness, by the way!)
Another thing I've noticed during this "staycation" - my list of minor little "homework" tasks to attend to this week are just as easily interrupted as my work tasks are. Example: needing to go to the hardware store for a new vacuum cleaner and fluorescent tubes for the kitchen instead of doing the second of two banking businesses (having the credit union drop my dad's name from our joint account - he died almost three years ago).
It seems an inescapable truth... life is what happens while you're making other plans. And the rest of it lies dormant.
love, hosaa
dealing with dormancy
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Louis and Wynton
Just back from seeing an extraordinary show at the Strathmore: Silent film LOUIS accompanied by Wynton Marsalis, Cecile Licad, and a smoking jazz ensemble.
The film is a fictionalized rendering of the childhood of Louis Armstrong in corrupt, decadent old New Orleans, but it is also an homage to the redemptive power of music. Aesthetically, think Francis Ford Coppola meets the Keystone Kops. The transformation of the turn-of-the-century villainous politician from Snidely Whiplash into Charlie Chaplin (City Lights, Modern Times, and Great Dictator references) was a fun touch. And the young boy who played Louis, Anthony Coleman, was a wide-eyed charmer, totally convincing as a young Satchmo.
The music had me smiling all night, melding 19th-century Gottschalk with 21st-century Marsalis. At first I didn't recognize Wynton sitting in the band - of course I know what he looks like, but I was pretty far back. He is an icon but didn't march on stage separately from the other musicians, no spotlight. Then he played: The music IS the light. Wow. It's been 25 years since I saw him perform at the Kennedy Center (oh please bring back the Jazz Festival!) and he still blows me away.
It was a sold-out show, according to the signs at the box office, but there were a few scattered empty seats. Three boisterous standing ovations filled in those gaps.
love, hosaa
wishing the gift show had been open
The film is a fictionalized rendering of the childhood of Louis Armstrong in corrupt, decadent old New Orleans, but it is also an homage to the redemptive power of music. Aesthetically, think Francis Ford Coppola meets the Keystone Kops. The transformation of the turn-of-the-century villainous politician from Snidely Whiplash into Charlie Chaplin (City Lights, Modern Times, and Great Dictator references) was a fun touch. And the young boy who played Louis, Anthony Coleman, was a wide-eyed charmer, totally convincing as a young Satchmo.
The music had me smiling all night, melding 19th-century Gottschalk with 21st-century Marsalis. At first I didn't recognize Wynton sitting in the band - of course I know what he looks like, but I was pretty far back. He is an icon but didn't march on stage separately from the other musicians, no spotlight. Then he played: The music IS the light. Wow. It's been 25 years since I saw him perform at the Kennedy Center (oh please bring back the Jazz Festival!) and he still blows me away.
It was a sold-out show, according to the signs at the box office, but there were a few scattered empty seats. Three boisterous standing ovations filled in those gaps.
love, hosaa
wishing the gift show had been open
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
U.S. Immigration Policy
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
(from "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus)
...oh, and could you also make sure they have a PhD in engineering before they get here? You know, like these guys:
Oh, never mind. The key is under the mat.
Love, hosaa
not huddling, a little tempest-tost, breathing free
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