stopping at red lights
sweaty runners jog in place
as we wait for green
31 January 2014
Friday photo 2014/5
Chinatown, San Francisco, September 2010
31 January 2014: happy Year of the Horse!
30 January 2014
29 January 2014
28 January 2014
fun stuff I may or may not get to: February 2014
Theater:
At the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts you can see Young Jean Lee's Untitled Feminist Show, 30 January to 1 February.
At Cutting Ball Theater Ubu Roi, in a new translation by Rob Melrose, continues through 23 February. And on Sunday 9 February if you'd like some dark-tinged Eastern European absurdity, you can experience The Police by Slawomir Mrozek, directed by Rem Myers, in the Hidden Classics Reading Series.
Shotgun Players presents Just Theater's production of A Maze, written by Rob Handel and directed by Molly Aaronson-Gelb, 14 February to 9 March, at the Ashby Stage.
San Francisco Playhouse presents the west coast premiere of Jerusalem by Jez Butterworth, directed by Bill English, 21 January to 8 March.
New Music:
On 1 February you can hear the Del Sol Quartet in the San Francisco Conservatory of Music's Alumni Recital Series, playing works by Ken Ueno, Lembit Beecher, Mason Bates, and Chinary Ung.
Earplay presents works by Tamar Diesendruck, George Crumb, Dan Reiter, David Schiff, and Ann Calloway on 10 February at the ODC Theater (3153 17th Street in San Francisco).
At the Center for New Music you can hear west coast premieres by Mohammed Fairouz played by the Del Sol Quartet and pianist Lara Downes on 25 February. Find more info on that here, and the Center's other concerts here.
Symphonic:
Seguing from the new music section, we have the Berkeley Symphony presenting the world premiere of Samuel Carl Adams' Violin Concerto, with soloist Anthony Marwood, as well as Stravinsky's Pulcinella Suite and Mendelssohn's "Scottish" Symphony; Joana Carneiro conducts. 6 February at Zellerbach Hall.
At the San Francisco Symphony, Osmo Vänskä leads the Sibelius 6 as well as that composer's Night Ride and Sunrise, along with Stravinsky's Symphonies of Wind Instruments and Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, with pianist Daniil Trifonov, 30 January to 1 February; Lionel Bringuier conducts Ravel's La Valse, Dutilleux's Métaboles, and the Brahms Piano Concerto 2 with soloist Hélène Grimaud, 5 - 7 February; and Michael Tilson Thomas conducts the Mahler 3 with the glorious Sasha Cooke as mezzo-soprano soloist, 27 February and 1-2 March; get details and this month's other SF Symphony concerts here.
Baroque Music:
Ya-Fei Chuang on fortepiano and Robert Levin on harpsichord join conductor Nicholas McGegan as Philharmonia Baroque continues its musical grand tour through eighteenth-century Europe with stops in Berlin and Vienna, as represented by works of Haydn and CPE Bach, 5 and 7 - 9 February; check here for more information, including concert locations. On 6 February at the SF Jazz Center PBO is presenting a variant of this concert, shortened and interspersed with discussions of the instruments and the music as well as projections, followed by a reception; more details on that here.
The American Bach Soloists present their titular master's Missa Brevis in G Major, Orchestral Suite No. 1 in C Major, and Herkules auf dem Scheidewege (Hercules at the Crossroads) with vocal soloists Kathryn Mueller, Ian Howell, Derek Chester, and Jesse Blumberg, 21 - 24 February, in different location each day; check here for details.
Operatic:
New Century Chamber Orchestra presents operatic pleasantries (by Mascagni, Verdi, Massenet, and Strausses both Richard and Johann) arranged for string orchestra, along with the main event, Donizetti's one-act comedy Rita, with vocal soloists Maria Valdes, Thomas Glenn, and Efraín Solís; 12 and 14 - 16 February; check here for concert locations and other information.
Dance:
San Francisco Ballet alternates Program 2 (From Foreign Lands, Borderlands, and a world premiere from Val Caniparoli, 18 February to 1 March) and Program 3 (Firebird, Ghosts, and the Kingdom of the Shades from La Bayadère, 20 February to 2 March). They are also presenting the Hamburg Ballet in John Neumeier's A Midsummer Night's Dream (12 - 13 February). Neumeier was the choreographer of the brilliant Little Mermaid, set to Lera Auerbach's score.
Soloists/Chamber Music:
San Francisco Performances presents violinist Alina Ibragimova and pianist Cédric Tiberghien playing Mozart, Cage, Webern, and Beethoven on 15 February; pianist Christian Zacharias playing Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann on 16 February; and pianist Lise de la Salle playing Brahms, Schumann, Ravel, and Debussy on 28 February.
All of the Above:
Cal Performances presents what is sure to be a highlight, Gerald Finley with Julius Drake on piano performing Schubert's Winterreise, on 2 February. The Martha Graham Dance Company performs in Zellerbach 31 January to 1 February. Countertenor Philippe Jaroussky and the Venice Baroque Orchestra perform works by Veracini, Porpora, Vivaldi, and Geminiani on 7 February. The resident new-music group, the Eco Ensemble, plays works by Bedrossian, Ligeti, and Jodlowski on 22 February. And the Calder Quartet plays Schoenberg and Schubert on 23 February.
At the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts you can see Young Jean Lee's Untitled Feminist Show, 30 January to 1 February.
At Cutting Ball Theater Ubu Roi, in a new translation by Rob Melrose, continues through 23 February. And on Sunday 9 February if you'd like some dark-tinged Eastern European absurdity, you can experience The Police by Slawomir Mrozek, directed by Rem Myers, in the Hidden Classics Reading Series.
Shotgun Players presents Just Theater's production of A Maze, written by Rob Handel and directed by Molly Aaronson-Gelb, 14 February to 9 March, at the Ashby Stage.
San Francisco Playhouse presents the west coast premiere of Jerusalem by Jez Butterworth, directed by Bill English, 21 January to 8 March.
New Music:
On 1 February you can hear the Del Sol Quartet in the San Francisco Conservatory of Music's Alumni Recital Series, playing works by Ken Ueno, Lembit Beecher, Mason Bates, and Chinary Ung.
Earplay presents works by Tamar Diesendruck, George Crumb, Dan Reiter, David Schiff, and Ann Calloway on 10 February at the ODC Theater (3153 17th Street in San Francisco).
At the Center for New Music you can hear west coast premieres by Mohammed Fairouz played by the Del Sol Quartet and pianist Lara Downes on 25 February. Find more info on that here, and the Center's other concerts here.
Symphonic:
Seguing from the new music section, we have the Berkeley Symphony presenting the world premiere of Samuel Carl Adams' Violin Concerto, with soloist Anthony Marwood, as well as Stravinsky's Pulcinella Suite and Mendelssohn's "Scottish" Symphony; Joana Carneiro conducts. 6 February at Zellerbach Hall.
At the San Francisco Symphony, Osmo Vänskä leads the Sibelius 6 as well as that composer's Night Ride and Sunrise, along with Stravinsky's Symphonies of Wind Instruments and Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, with pianist Daniil Trifonov, 30 January to 1 February; Lionel Bringuier conducts Ravel's La Valse, Dutilleux's Métaboles, and the Brahms Piano Concerto 2 with soloist Hélène Grimaud, 5 - 7 February; and Michael Tilson Thomas conducts the Mahler 3 with the glorious Sasha Cooke as mezzo-soprano soloist, 27 February and 1-2 March; get details and this month's other SF Symphony concerts here.
Baroque Music:
Ya-Fei Chuang on fortepiano and Robert Levin on harpsichord join conductor Nicholas McGegan as Philharmonia Baroque continues its musical grand tour through eighteenth-century Europe with stops in Berlin and Vienna, as represented by works of Haydn and CPE Bach, 5 and 7 - 9 February; check here for more information, including concert locations. On 6 February at the SF Jazz Center PBO is presenting a variant of this concert, shortened and interspersed with discussions of the instruments and the music as well as projections, followed by a reception; more details on that here.
The American Bach Soloists present their titular master's Missa Brevis in G Major, Orchestral Suite No. 1 in C Major, and Herkules auf dem Scheidewege (Hercules at the Crossroads) with vocal soloists Kathryn Mueller, Ian Howell, Derek Chester, and Jesse Blumberg, 21 - 24 February, in different location each day; check here for details.
Operatic:
New Century Chamber Orchestra presents operatic pleasantries (by Mascagni, Verdi, Massenet, and Strausses both Richard and Johann) arranged for string orchestra, along with the main event, Donizetti's one-act comedy Rita, with vocal soloists Maria Valdes, Thomas Glenn, and Efraín Solís; 12 and 14 - 16 February; check here for concert locations and other information.
Dance:
San Francisco Ballet alternates Program 2 (From Foreign Lands, Borderlands, and a world premiere from Val Caniparoli, 18 February to 1 March) and Program 3 (Firebird, Ghosts, and the Kingdom of the Shades from La Bayadère, 20 February to 2 March). They are also presenting the Hamburg Ballet in John Neumeier's A Midsummer Night's Dream (12 - 13 February). Neumeier was the choreographer of the brilliant Little Mermaid, set to Lera Auerbach's score.
Soloists/Chamber Music:
San Francisco Performances presents violinist Alina Ibragimova and pianist Cédric Tiberghien playing Mozart, Cage, Webern, and Beethoven on 15 February; pianist Christian Zacharias playing Beethoven, Schubert, and Schumann on 16 February; and pianist Lise de la Salle playing Brahms, Schumann, Ravel, and Debussy on 28 February.
All of the Above:
Cal Performances presents what is sure to be a highlight, Gerald Finley with Julius Drake on piano performing Schubert's Winterreise, on 2 February. The Martha Graham Dance Company performs in Zellerbach 31 January to 1 February. Countertenor Philippe Jaroussky and the Venice Baroque Orchestra perform works by Veracini, Porpora, Vivaldi, and Geminiani on 7 February. The resident new-music group, the Eco Ensemble, plays works by Bedrossian, Ligeti, and Jodlowski on 22 February. And the Calder Quartet plays Schoenberg and Schubert on 23 February.
27 January 2014
Haiku 2014/27
Classical music
died again the other day.
I'll mourn with Mozart.
(Today is Mozart's 258th birthday.)
died again the other day.
I'll mourn with Mozart.
(Today is Mozart's 258th birthday.)
Poem of the Week 2014/5
Naturally the Foundation Will Bear Your Expenses
Hurrying to catch my Comet
One dark November day,
Which soon would snatch me from it
To the sunshine of Bombay,
I pondered pages Berkeley
Not three weeks since had heard,
Perceiving Chatto darkly
Through the mirror of the Third.
Crowds, colourless and careworn,
Had made my taxi late,
Yet not till I was airborne
Did I recall the date –
That day when Queen and Minister
And Band of Guards and all
Still act their solemn-sinister
Wreath-rubbish in Whitehall.
It used to make me throw up,
These mawkish nursery games:
O when will England grow up?
– But I outsoar the Thames,
And dwindle off down Auster
To greet Professor Lal
(He once met Morgan Forster),
My contact and my pal.
Philip Larkin
This strikes me as lesser Larkin, but it has always amused me for a couple of reasons which I'll get to in a moment. What struck me when I re-read it before typing it here, and what I had not remembered, is how dense it is with references that need some explanation (for some of which I have relied on Archie Burnett, editor and annotator of The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin, from which I took this poem). The speaker is at the intersection of two different worlds, and makes references to both, casually and knowingly.
There's the social/political world of Great Britain: the "Comet" is a type of jet, the "dark November day" turns out to be the 11th, what used to be called Armistice Day, commemorating the end of World War I, when the Queen and other representatives of Britain's military and political establishment lay wreaths honoring the British war dead at the Cenotaph in Whitehall, the area of London where most government offices are located. "Auster" is the south wind, hence the direction in which the speaker is traveling: towards warmth and light, away from the grayness and conformity he perceives in London.
There's also the more global cultural world, which is larger than any individual country, and which the speaker clearly prefers: he has recently been to California ("Berkeley" is the University of California at Berkeley) and is on his way to Bombay. He has his eye on "Chatto" (the publishing house Chatto & Windus) and "the Third" (Radio 3, the BBC radio network devoted to higher culture), and can tie them together with an apt and witty reference to 1 Corinthians ("for now we see as through a glass, darkly"; surely this speaker knows these lines for their literary fame, and not in the same way as might the more piously inclined members of the "colourless and careworn" crowd). He refers excitedly, and by the name used by friends and family, to "Morgan" Forster, better known to us as the novelist E M Forster.
Mentioning Forster in the context of a trip to Bombay can't help but remind us of A Passage to India, and the memory would associate the speaker with that novel's examination of (among other things) British imperial power in that country, which was given up not that long before this poem was first published in 1961. Forster's name might also bring to mind his famous quotation, "If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country"; a line which perfectly encapsulates the speaker's preference for personal relationships over the nation-state (I have to say that although I'm drawn to the sentiment, it strikes me as a bit inadequate, better in its high-minded sound than in practice; if Forster had, in fact, betrayed his country to the Germans in order to protect his friend, or even what used to be called euphemistically his friend, then you have to wonder how he thinks the victorious Master Race would have treated leftist intellectual/artistic homosexuals like himself and many in his circle of friends).
Here are the two things that amuse me about this poem: first, the subject of Larkin's satire here – this hanger-on in Academia, this globe-trotting internationalist, so contemptuous of official patriotism ("their solemn-sinister / wreath-rubbish") and so excited about any contact, however slight, with significant artists ("He once met Morgan Forster" – you feel there should be an exclamation point there); so dismissive of the anonymous crowds who inconvenienced him by delaying his taxi, and himself a bit childish and petulant ("it used to make me throw up") – this acidly etched portrait is, basically, of me. Not me personally, of course, and I don't have either the employment or the connections or the travel opportunities of the speaker here, but the poem clearly is about people like me: I too regularly express contempt for my fellow-citizen's mawkish and ignorant patriotic ceremonies (though I would make a clear distinction between official ceremonies and personal mourning of the actual dead), I too would turn away from the Queen but would be thrilled at the thought of meeting someone who once met Larkin. I still admire the wit and satire of the poem; it's always useful to be reminded that political beliefs cover a wide and always changing spectrum, and we can't necessarily expect great artists to hold the same beliefs we might hold dear, or at least conventionally accept. (I remember how saddened I felt when I realized how many great writers in the early twentieth century flirted, or in some cases actually tied the knot with, totalitarian systems both Communist and even Fascist; later on I came to have a better sense of why authoritarianism would appeal to an artist, impatient of the uncomprehending sheep that constitute his or her fellow citizens, but how can any artist, at least in self-interest. approve of any system that limits freedom of expression?).
The second thing that amuses me: the name of my alma mater is pronounced "BER-klee." Burnett's annotations note that when Larkin read the poem he gave the name a British pronunciation, so that it rhymed perfectly with "darkly," but he does not note that that pronunciation is incorrect. I once read that Nabokov had had the narrator of Lolita use an anatomical term incorrectly, but he later changed it, fearing that the error would be ascribed to him instead of Humbert Humbert. So is the mispronunciation of Berkeley a subtle master-stroke of characterization, showing that the speaker is more inextricably British, more provincial, than he thinks? Or does the error belong to Larkin himself?
Hurrying to catch my Comet
One dark November day,
Which soon would snatch me from it
To the sunshine of Bombay,
I pondered pages Berkeley
Not three weeks since had heard,
Perceiving Chatto darkly
Through the mirror of the Third.
Crowds, colourless and careworn,
Had made my taxi late,
Yet not till I was airborne
Did I recall the date –
That day when Queen and Minister
And Band of Guards and all
Still act their solemn-sinister
Wreath-rubbish in Whitehall.
It used to make me throw up,
These mawkish nursery games:
O when will England grow up?
– But I outsoar the Thames,
And dwindle off down Auster
To greet Professor Lal
(He once met Morgan Forster),
My contact and my pal.
Philip Larkin
This strikes me as lesser Larkin, but it has always amused me for a couple of reasons which I'll get to in a moment. What struck me when I re-read it before typing it here, and what I had not remembered, is how dense it is with references that need some explanation (for some of which I have relied on Archie Burnett, editor and annotator of The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin, from which I took this poem). The speaker is at the intersection of two different worlds, and makes references to both, casually and knowingly.
There's the social/political world of Great Britain: the "Comet" is a type of jet, the "dark November day" turns out to be the 11th, what used to be called Armistice Day, commemorating the end of World War I, when the Queen and other representatives of Britain's military and political establishment lay wreaths honoring the British war dead at the Cenotaph in Whitehall, the area of London where most government offices are located. "Auster" is the south wind, hence the direction in which the speaker is traveling: towards warmth and light, away from the grayness and conformity he perceives in London.
There's also the more global cultural world, which is larger than any individual country, and which the speaker clearly prefers: he has recently been to California ("Berkeley" is the University of California at Berkeley) and is on his way to Bombay. He has his eye on "Chatto" (the publishing house Chatto & Windus) and "the Third" (Radio 3, the BBC radio network devoted to higher culture), and can tie them together with an apt and witty reference to 1 Corinthians ("for now we see as through a glass, darkly"; surely this speaker knows these lines for their literary fame, and not in the same way as might the more piously inclined members of the "colourless and careworn" crowd). He refers excitedly, and by the name used by friends and family, to "Morgan" Forster, better known to us as the novelist E M Forster.
Mentioning Forster in the context of a trip to Bombay can't help but remind us of A Passage to India, and the memory would associate the speaker with that novel's examination of (among other things) British imperial power in that country, which was given up not that long before this poem was first published in 1961. Forster's name might also bring to mind his famous quotation, "If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country"; a line which perfectly encapsulates the speaker's preference for personal relationships over the nation-state (I have to say that although I'm drawn to the sentiment, it strikes me as a bit inadequate, better in its high-minded sound than in practice; if Forster had, in fact, betrayed his country to the Germans in order to protect his friend, or even what used to be called euphemistically his friend, then you have to wonder how he thinks the victorious Master Race would have treated leftist intellectual/artistic homosexuals like himself and many in his circle of friends).
Here are the two things that amuse me about this poem: first, the subject of Larkin's satire here – this hanger-on in Academia, this globe-trotting internationalist, so contemptuous of official patriotism ("their solemn-sinister / wreath-rubbish") and so excited about any contact, however slight, with significant artists ("He once met Morgan Forster" – you feel there should be an exclamation point there); so dismissive of the anonymous crowds who inconvenienced him by delaying his taxi, and himself a bit childish and petulant ("it used to make me throw up") – this acidly etched portrait is, basically, of me. Not me personally, of course, and I don't have either the employment or the connections or the travel opportunities of the speaker here, but the poem clearly is about people like me: I too regularly express contempt for my fellow-citizen's mawkish and ignorant patriotic ceremonies (though I would make a clear distinction between official ceremonies and personal mourning of the actual dead), I too would turn away from the Queen but would be thrilled at the thought of meeting someone who once met Larkin. I still admire the wit and satire of the poem; it's always useful to be reminded that political beliefs cover a wide and always changing spectrum, and we can't necessarily expect great artists to hold the same beliefs we might hold dear, or at least conventionally accept. (I remember how saddened I felt when I realized how many great writers in the early twentieth century flirted, or in some cases actually tied the knot with, totalitarian systems both Communist and even Fascist; later on I came to have a better sense of why authoritarianism would appeal to an artist, impatient of the uncomprehending sheep that constitute his or her fellow citizens, but how can any artist, at least in self-interest. approve of any system that limits freedom of expression?).
The second thing that amuses me: the name of my alma mater is pronounced "BER-klee." Burnett's annotations note that when Larkin read the poem he gave the name a British pronunciation, so that it rhymed perfectly with "darkly," but he does not note that that pronunciation is incorrect. I once read that Nabokov had had the narrator of Lolita use an anatomical term incorrectly, but he later changed it, fearing that the error would be ascribed to him instead of Humbert Humbert. So is the mispronunciation of Berkeley a subtle master-stroke of characterization, showing that the speaker is more inextricably British, more provincial, than he thinks? Or does the error belong to Larkin himself?
26 January 2014
25 January 2014
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