Quick Run through of yesterday's (thursday's) activities: morning run that took me past most of the theatres we'll be visiting during this program, Waterloo Bridge and Station, the National Theatre, the place the London Phil plays (can't recall the name), the London Eye, the Dali Museum, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey (nice anti-war display there - moving), Parliament, Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Strand, back to the Harlingford. Good run and most efficient sightseeing trip of my life
(juggling and fire are cool). Back to the National Gallery - spent some good time looking at Turner, Britain's prize impressionist. I enjoyed his paintings a lot, they put me in a sort of plaintive mood. Monet/Manet/Seurat. Pointillism blows my mind. Special exhibit of a local photographer from Hackney who quotes directly from Old Master paintings in his pictures of marginal populations (squatters, the homeless) and marginal events (bodies found in river, etc.). Very interesting, often disturbing.
Back to the hotel for a quick nap. Got together with Prof. Peck, his wife Ruth, and cellist from Eastman named Erin - we went up to Hackney for sis kabobs and then a production of Aristophanes's Lysistrata. 'True' to the tradition of Greek drama, the male characters wore 4 foot phalluses (phalli?), in a variety of neon colors. Very funny. Bed.
In the 15 minutes I have left on this computer, I want to talk a little bit about a recurring image from the 1500-1600 division at the National. Needless to say, much of the art from this period and in this section of the Museum was devotional in nature - religious subjects and imagery were dominant. In 5 or 6 of the paintings which featured a representation of Christ (Madonna and Child, preaching, crucifixion, piet'a, etc.) there was a figure standing off to the side looking at Christ and pointing heavenward. Often times this was John the Baptist, but not always. The note on the side of each painting commented that this pointing signified the final destination and ultimate purpose of Christ - to return to heaven, having flung wide the doors of salvation by his sacrificial death and resurrection. In the interest of time, I'll say this was trope was infused with the most pathos in scenes of the infant Christ in the stable, with one of the wise men or the infant John the Baptist pointing toward heaven.
I am amazed by the inclusiveness of the Christian narrative, and this inclusiveness has interesting consequences for the Christian understanding of time. Christ's birth is inseparable in the Christian mind from his miraculous rebirth at Easter, which of course brings in the horror of the Crucifixion. It's all tied together, a unified whole. And of course the narrative of Christ's earthly life and the Gospel authors' interpretation of purpose in that life - to redeem the world - is the lynchpin for all of history in the Christian meta-narrative. Interestingly enough,
Friday, December 30, 2005
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
journey to london via new york
Well let's get this underway. I'm writing from the appropriately and succinctly named 'Internet Cafe' on Euston in Bloomsbury, London. I have been in London for about 15 hours, although I have been *not* in line (queue) or awake for only about 5 of those. Alas, I'm beginning in medias res. Odysseus before the Phaiacians, Aeneas before the Carthaginians, let me relate to you the story of my journey. To speak of it is to renew my pain. not really. at all.
I flew out of Rochester at 6am on Tuesday, Dec. 27th. I was all psyched up the night before and going through unnecessary mental machinations regarding departure and my general absence from the US for 6 months, so I boarded this plane running on about 2 hours of sleep. Got into JFK around 7:15, and walked to the baggage claim with Matt Owens, an old friend of mine from high school who happened to be on the same flight. We caught up a bit and talked about the Boston and NY jazz scenes, which Matt knows about because he is a Berkeley jazz trumpet grad, and which I pretend to know about because I'm currently reading the autobiography of Miles Davis.
We parted ways and I took the airtrain and then the subway into Manhattan. I got off around Times Square because, what the hell, I've got a 40 pound pack on my back - better act the tourist as much as possible. Plus I'd never been. So I looked around, got my news off that wavy scrolling light thing at ABC studios, strained my neck looking up at tall buildings. It was nice. Walked uptown to Central Park, where I spent most of the day reading about the endearingly arrogant Miles and writing down some thoughts in the old journal, trying to get my head together about what's gone down the past few months, figure out where I stand going into the next few. As Martha Stewart says, it's a good thing. I nodded off for about 15 minutes on my 3rd bench of the afternoon. I kept getting cold so I'd walk around for a bit and find another bench with more sunshine.
Walked around some more - down 5th avenue just checking it out. that was distinctively zoo-like. Crazed animals dressed like humans dressed in the skins of animals. Stopped at a post office to mail home the car keys I found in my pocket (could be useful to someone else in my family) and on my way back to the subway I ran into, out of whatever hundreds of thousands of people milling around in New York on that day, Joanna Reynolds, a friend from the U of R. She was shopping with her mother, and I must say, looked very much in her element. Her ever fashionable dress had been taken to the next level - she was clearly a native. I enjoyed talking to her and her mother was very nice and asked if I'd like to join them for coffee, but I needed to get going.
Made it back to JFK, did the check-in thing, had quiet time in the chapel. I must interject that there are 4 distinct and CLEARLY labelled 'chapels' right next to eachother in Terminal 4. On each, the wall facing the terminal was all glass, which struck me as very shopfront. Now, of course I'm impressed that airports are providing quiet areas for prayer and reflection, and was myself eager to take advantage of that space, but it was a little too surreally American on the whole. I think back to the meditation room in the Amsterdam airport en route to Kenya 3 years ago - that seemed a much more sacred space to me, probably because there was no differentiation between faith traditions. On the other hand, there were only 2 other people in that room in Amsterdam (although the architecture alone was a reflection of the divine). When I was walking to the non-denominational Protestant Chapel (which oddly enough had the word 'crusade' somewhere in the name - also right next to 'Our Lady of the Skies') our Muslim brothers and sisters were packed into their storefront like sardines. Then almost all of them left at the same time and went to the same gate to board their plane to Cairo. I thought that was very nice, I wish that a good one-third of my Virgin Atlantic flight had been shoulder to shoulder in one of the other chapels before we went down en mass to cross the Atlantic. Out of Egypt.
One more thing on the chapel note - can someone send me or post the text of the 'Every Valley' section of Handel's Messiah? I think it's the 3rd section - tenor solo. Good things to be thinking about in the midst of adjustment - 'and the rough places made plain.'
Couldn't sleep on the flight because I am 6'4" and my knees were right up against the tray table the whole way. Not the most comfortable I've ever been. Very very pretty stewardesses ahem flight attendents. So it wasn't wasted time.
Deboarded, stood in a passport control line for an hour and half, got my bags and headed for the Underground. Had some money trouble, got nervous, but it's all resolved now. Made it to the Harlingford Hotel in Bloomsbury where I'll be staying until the 15th without incident. meant to 'just try out the bed' for an hour or two - right. you see where this is going. woke up at 8pm local time - a nice 10 hour nap. no matter what, though, I'm getting up at 7:30 tomorrow for breakfast and a full day of gallery hopping. Tate and Tate Modern, definitely.
I will close by saying that over break I recorded some songs with my friend Dan Gocek. This project explores the degree to which one can really produce anything novel - or if that's even a desireable aim. I think it's more interesting to see ourselves in a dialogue with what's come before and what else is happening now. In that spirit, I recorded some of my friends at school reading something they thought was interesting, moving, quirky, or fun. I then tried to incorporate those ideas and their very voices into the music. In retrospect, I wish I had taken more time to work the very words into lyrical material, etc., but I'm pretty pleased with how the whole thing turned out. Basically, if you want to hear what this sounds like, email my distribution co-ordinator, sister, and future NYU freshman - Ellie.
let me hear your voices - give me a shout at cadair@mail.rochester.edu. peace.
I flew out of Rochester at 6am on Tuesday, Dec. 27th. I was all psyched up the night before and going through unnecessary mental machinations regarding departure and my general absence from the US for 6 months, so I boarded this plane running on about 2 hours of sleep. Got into JFK around 7:15, and walked to the baggage claim with Matt Owens, an old friend of mine from high school who happened to be on the same flight. We caught up a bit and talked about the Boston and NY jazz scenes, which Matt knows about because he is a Berkeley jazz trumpet grad, and which I pretend to know about because I'm currently reading the autobiography of Miles Davis.
We parted ways and I took the airtrain and then the subway into Manhattan. I got off around Times Square because, what the hell, I've got a 40 pound pack on my back - better act the tourist as much as possible. Plus I'd never been. So I looked around, got my news off that wavy scrolling light thing at ABC studios, strained my neck looking up at tall buildings. It was nice. Walked uptown to Central Park, where I spent most of the day reading about the endearingly arrogant Miles and writing down some thoughts in the old journal, trying to get my head together about what's gone down the past few months, figure out where I stand going into the next few. As Martha Stewart says, it's a good thing. I nodded off for about 15 minutes on my 3rd bench of the afternoon. I kept getting cold so I'd walk around for a bit and find another bench with more sunshine.
Walked around some more - down 5th avenue just checking it out. that was distinctively zoo-like. Crazed animals dressed like humans dressed in the skins of animals. Stopped at a post office to mail home the car keys I found in my pocket (could be useful to someone else in my family) and on my way back to the subway I ran into, out of whatever hundreds of thousands of people milling around in New York on that day, Joanna Reynolds, a friend from the U of R. She was shopping with her mother, and I must say, looked very much in her element. Her ever fashionable dress had been taken to the next level - she was clearly a native. I enjoyed talking to her and her mother was very nice and asked if I'd like to join them for coffee, but I needed to get going.
Made it back to JFK, did the check-in thing, had quiet time in the chapel. I must interject that there are 4 distinct and CLEARLY labelled 'chapels' right next to eachother in Terminal 4. On each, the wall facing the terminal was all glass, which struck me as very shopfront. Now, of course I'm impressed that airports are providing quiet areas for prayer and reflection, and was myself eager to take advantage of that space, but it was a little too surreally American on the whole. I think back to the meditation room in the Amsterdam airport en route to Kenya 3 years ago - that seemed a much more sacred space to me, probably because there was no differentiation between faith traditions. On the other hand, there were only 2 other people in that room in Amsterdam (although the architecture alone was a reflection of the divine). When I was walking to the non-denominational Protestant Chapel (which oddly enough had the word 'crusade' somewhere in the name - also right next to 'Our Lady of the Skies') our Muslim brothers and sisters were packed into their storefront like sardines. Then almost all of them left at the same time and went to the same gate to board their plane to Cairo. I thought that was very nice, I wish that a good one-third of my Virgin Atlantic flight had been shoulder to shoulder in one of the other chapels before we went down en mass to cross the Atlantic. Out of Egypt.
One more thing on the chapel note - can someone send me or post the text of the 'Every Valley' section of Handel's Messiah? I think it's the 3rd section - tenor solo. Good things to be thinking about in the midst of adjustment - 'and the rough places made plain.'
Couldn't sleep on the flight because I am 6'4" and my knees were right up against the tray table the whole way. Not the most comfortable I've ever been. Very very pretty stewardesses ahem flight attendents. So it wasn't wasted time.
Deboarded, stood in a passport control line for an hour and half, got my bags and headed for the Underground. Had some money trouble, got nervous, but it's all resolved now. Made it to the Harlingford Hotel in Bloomsbury where I'll be staying until the 15th without incident. meant to 'just try out the bed' for an hour or two - right. you see where this is going. woke up at 8pm local time - a nice 10 hour nap. no matter what, though, I'm getting up at 7:30 tomorrow for breakfast and a full day of gallery hopping. Tate and Tate Modern, definitely.
I will close by saying that over break I recorded some songs with my friend Dan Gocek. This project explores the degree to which one can really produce anything novel - or if that's even a desireable aim. I think it's more interesting to see ourselves in a dialogue with what's come before and what else is happening now. In that spirit, I recorded some of my friends at school reading something they thought was interesting, moving, quirky, or fun. I then tried to incorporate those ideas and their very voices into the music. In retrospect, I wish I had taken more time to work the very words into lyrical material, etc., but I'm pretty pleased with how the whole thing turned out. Basically, if you want to hear what this sounds like, email my distribution co-ordinator, sister, and future NYU freshman - Ellie.
let me hear your voices - give me a shout at cadair@mail.rochester.edu. peace.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Longest web address...ever
Hello and welcome to the unfolding and incomplete record of my travels over the 6 months to come. I hope I can keep your interest.
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