“Hats”

The V&A’s “Hats: An Anthology by Stephen J.” is an engaging and entertaining exhibit. England has a strong tradition of hat wearing which has dwindled over time such that now the only remnant of the custom is when women wear hats to English weddings. Previously indifferent to hats, the exhibit spurred an appreciation that millinery is as much a forum for artistic and creative expression as couture gowns or even photography.  What impressed me most about the hats on display was not such much the engineering feat behind some of them, the use of non-traditional materials, or even the variety of styles; instead, it was the wit behind many of the inventions on display. Who knew that hats, many of which were as demure as others over-the-top, could so poignantly poke fun at the trends, fads and aesthetics expressed in the age and culture in which they came to exist?

“Ermione”

What amazes me about opera is how long it seems to take to convey one single idea, action, or thought. At the Royal Festival Hall Southbank Centre we saw Rossini’s “Ermione”, a lesser-known opera where the central action revolves around a constellation of unrequited love. Although I enjoyed listening to the London Philharmonic Orchestra perform, I quickly remembered why opera has never pulled me the same way as straight drama or even some musical theatre.

“Spring Awakening”

More years ago than I care to remember I read Frank W.’s play “Spring Awakening” in a university German literature course. Written in the late 19th century, the play inspired controversy and continues to do so in its current form as a West End musical.  Ironically, while the play write demonizes parents and teachers guilty of manipulating young adults and sheltering  them from the truths about their bodies, the website for the musical adaptation warns against buying tickets for people below the age of fourteen.

Whereas  audience members will focus on the play’s messages about false morality and ethics, ultimately, the play is about knowledge in the form of sexual or intellectual education versus ignorance.  The parents and teachers in Frank W.’s Germany shelter their children and students in a hopeless attempt to harness their impending progress towards adulthood and all the messiness that accompanies it: falling in love, marriage, building a family, work, raising children. In a vain attempt to play G-d, the play’s adult characters become the blind leading the blind. The musical adaptation suggests that honest literature (here in the form of Faust) and rock-and-roll are the antidotes for the vacuum of knowledge the community has built around their blooming children. As is the case is Shakespeare, the cost of ignorance is high: two of the three main characters die, and their parents and teachers’ hands are stained with guilt. Of the three main characters, the only one to survive his community and move forward is the character who embraces learning and his sexuality.

The story is a good one; however, the question remains whether the play/musical’s themes are revelent in today’s culture. Ten-year olds surf the Internet which is just one massive knowledge share, mainstream movies and television depict their characters in various stages of undress, and songs on the radio pay homage to women’s most erotic body parts. Twinning the ready and accessible flow of information, however, is the opposite: parents installing protective software on their computers, the plastering of adult-content warnings on video games and CDs, and the promotion of a parenting culture where adults have an increasingly hands-on and regulatory approach to raising children. My guess is that the play’s themes are as applicable now as they were in the late 19th century. For those who aren’t convinced, however, the West End production’s music is fun, and the choreography is brilliant. The appropriately awkward and ugly teenage actors move through the show like guppies in a pond: instinctually and flawlessly.

ADB on Pessimism

Today’s guest speaker at “The School of Life” was ADB, one of my favourite contemporary writers. A living philosopher, he examines tensions produced in modern life and suggests answers that fly in the face of popular thought. As an American, I was raised to the hymn of the Horatio Alger story and its countless variations (Cinderella, “Rags to Riches”, “Fresh Prince of Bel Air”, MTV Cribs, etc.), so I admit I was a little put off by the title of today’s sermon, “Prepare to Fail”. Whereas I disagree with ADB’s emphasis on pessimism (my concern was that if one is pessimistic, where is the motivation to add value and work towards a goal?), I do appreciate ADB’s reminder that an often overlooked ingredient in attaining success and happiness is fortune, or luck. None of us have as much control over our destinies as we like to think we do. And the irony, as ADB points out, is that the more control we think we have over our futures, the more conducive it is to sadness and suffering.

Much of the material from today’s “sermon” was taken from ADB’s “The Consolations of Philosophy”, my favourite of his books.  In it, ADB (as does Buddhism which is clearly a source of inspiration in ADB’s work) describes frustration as a result of expectations, thus when life does not meet an expectation, frustration is a result. Thus follows ADB’s advice to lower expectations. M and I agreed that lowering expectations is de-motivating; I even posit that it is a cowardly way to avoid the stress of working towards a goal.

That aside, there were a number of ideas ADB proposed that were refreshingly nuanced, as opposed to the mainstream self-help drivel in health magazines, Internet advertisements, and bookstores (although ADB had no right to dismiss Tony Robbins whose work is sacrosanct among those of us interested in living a meaningful life).  Like the Dali Lama, ADB reminds us that there is a “need to suffer” in order to do good (ie. creating happiness for oneself and others). Additionally, I quite liked the simple antidotes for attaining happiness (remembering one’s mortality, contemplating the destruction of once-powerful empires, absconding to nature, enjoying art that provides insight into the darker facets of life).

For me, the study of positive psychology is one which exposes paradoxes between the tales of success promoted in our popular culture which we breathe in like so many invisible molecules versus the ancient yet hidden story of what generates meaningful and sustainable happiness.  One of the many earth-shattering realisations I’ve come to in my long-distance endurance run of soaking up the ideas proposed by the likes of ADB, Malcolm G., Barry S., Tony R., Mattheiu R., Robert T., the DL, Daniel G., etc. is that the more we do to minimize ourselves and distract from our own egos via working towards something bigger than oneself, engaging in charitable works, reminding oneself of his/her mortality, purposefully making oneself feel small in the great theatre of life by visiting a vast natural area like Jordan’s Wadi Rum or the remains of a once-powerful empire like Egypt’s Great Pyramids of Gaza, the more powerful we become.

Americans in Paris

We four had already done our fair share of sightseeing in Paris, so when M&I met G&C this weekend in the City of Lights, we focused more on enjoying the local cuisine which we interspersed with lengthy walks around the city. Both mornings we dined on an assortment of high-sucrose baked goods at our favourite bakery, Kayser’s (croissants wrapping a thin almandine paste, cookies cavernous like Mars and embedded with equally other-worldly chocolate chips, freshly-baked bread generously flavoured with raisins). It tasted good to be in Paris.

After a country-French lunch of fish and white wine at Peres Et Filles, we walked along the Seine and over to the Louvre before meandering through Tuilleries Garden and making a U-turn turning around at the Obelisk to make our way back to Notre Dame. Over hot chocolate with Jurgen S., the “Grandfather of South African Photography” and his wife Claudia at Brasserie Balzar in the Latin Quarter, I listened to the couple’s earnest description of working conditions in South African farms in return for the photographer’s support for WfWI’s 2009 fundraising initiatives. The discussion concluded with teasing out all the factors that contribute to poverty in South Africa: the spread of AIDS, the lack of natural resources such as water and arable land due to environmental disaster, illiteracy and the legacy of apartheid. I asked about Nelson M., a question the couple clearly heard quite often, to which they responded by exchanging a knowing glance and simultaneously saying he has a “great wit” despite having been in jail for decades. 2009 is a big year for them as they have a jam-packed European exhibition tour which they juggle with their philanthropic work. Their biggest concern when giving is learning where the money actually goes, a question the recent Economist reported as leaving the countries for which aid is raised and instead entering corrupt leaders’ wallets via international banking institutions.

http://www.jurgenschadeberg.com/

From the Champs de Elysee we made our way to Buddha-Bar near the U.S. Embassy for a pre-dinner drink. What a small world we live in: only twenty-four hours previous I was in London’s BB on the Thames and now in the Paris location with friends who were in New York only twelve hours earlier. At Les Deux Magots, an old and reliable haunt in the Latin Quarter, we dined on duck confit and chicken salads, club sandwiches, wine and a macaron the size of my hand.

In the Musee d’Orsay we saw many of the classical works that make the museum’s collection so world famous. However, I especially enjoy the museum for its design; previously a train station, the skylights offer a soft, natural light which splashes the sculpture garden below. At the Restaurant du Petit St. Benoit we had a beef stew which rivalled our last one (ironically also with G&C in Dublin last May). The clock was ticking and there was still more dining to be had, so we made our way to La Duree, the city’s most famous patisserie where we shared an array of macarons (vanilla, raspberry, chocolate, pistachio), vanilla ice cream and strawberry sorbet to clean the palate.

International Women’s Day at the Albion Gallery

Last Thursday we held our first awareness- and fund-raising event in 2009 at the Albion Gallery in celebration of International Women’s Day.  Elizabeth J. exhibited her photographs of women in Rwanda, Mandy made up the models for Avis C.’s fashion show, and people shopped ’til they dropped at the souk (thank goodness low consumer confidence hasn’t disrupted charitable giving… or buying for that matter!).

The morning after the event I remembered a line from one of my favorite TED Talks, “Becoming Buddha: On the Web”, where Dr. Bob T. describes how “the key to compassion is that it is more fun… generosity is more fun – that is the key”. While Elizabeth J.’s photography is sobering in its subject, it is also a celebration of the Rwandan women’s survival in a war-torn country which still remains a conflict zone fifteen years later. The colours Elizabeth J. teased out of her photographs, the smooth finish of Avis C.’s silk tie-dye dresses and the unabashed youth of the fashion runway models created an all-consuming positive spirit which honoured the women for whom we raised money and awareness.

http://www.ejordanphotography.com/

http://www.womenforwomen.org/

Osho’s “The Rebel”

All my one-on-one discussions with Mandy somehow come back to the Osho resort in Pune, “my home” as she gleefully describes it. I asked Mandy to lead us in a discussion of excerpts from Osho’s “The Rebel” which we then concluded with a group meditation typical at the Pune resort. Osho’s “The Rebel” provides an illuminating discussion of the differences between the rebel and the non-conformist and makes a compelling framework for why governments might promote the ideal of the nuclear family unit as a tool to keep would-be rebels from taking risks. Mandy concluded the talk by describing the Osho resort and leading us in a dynamic meditation. By the end of the book talk, CC and I were ready to fly to Pune that very night. http://www.osho.com/index.cfm

Pavel Haas Quartet

In a recent “Lunch with the FT”, I read that Ian M., author of “Saturday”, and his wife frequently attend concerts at Wigmore Hall. While waiting for the Pavel Haas Quartet to begin their performance, I eagerly scanned the audience many times over, half wondering if it could be my lucky night: live classical music plus the opportunity to exchange a few words with the first writer to publish a post-9/11 novel. As luck would have it, I didn’t pick out Ian M. from the largely-geriatric crowd, nor was I much impressed by Wigmore Hall itself. Although the performance was a solid one, neither the music nor the venue compared to “Mozart by Candlelight” or any other concert we’ve attended at the RAH. One must always have high standards when it comes to art and culture, but I’ve recently realised how consistent exposure to excellence also generates disappointment.