“Absent Friends”

Last night we saw “Absent Friends”, a black comedy written by Alan A. which was first performed in the mid 1970s. It’s the first “drawing room”-type performance we’ve seen in a while; I quite enjoyed the feeling of eavesdropping on the characters’ intimate thoughts and quietly witnessing their verbal sparring. But what I found most amusing was the director’s decision to place the characters in the mid ’70s rather than contemporise the storyline. It was amusing to watch the lead actress operate a rotary telephone and receive a plastic paper towel dispenser as a gift. Interior design and personal fashion has come a long way since the mid ’70s.

David H at the RAA

Whereas the DaV exhibit at the NG is known as London’s premiere art exhibit in ’11, the RAA’s David H show is already reputed as the show to see this year. I was stunned by the vivid colour used to depict an otherwise melancholy English countryside in the larger-than-life-sized works.  M was impressed by the aged artist’s use of technology: the mammoth wall hangings are prints of the artist’s work executed on an iPad. Of course, one would never know looking at the art that they are merely reproductions of what was created on an Apple product. At the RAA, the joke is on the technophobe and the jester is a technophile.

“Master Class”

In a major departure from the English-themed theatre we’ve been attending the last few months, last night we saw “Master Class”, the biographical play about Greek opera singer Maria C. TV actress Tyne D does an outstanding impersonation of the “canary” as the starlet’s wealthy Greek husband Ari calls her. My favourite scene in the show is when Tyne D performs a one-woman re-enactment of a conversation between Ari and Maria: Ari courts Maria with his money – they share no pretensions that theirs is a union based on love or mutual admiration. Maria yearns for the freedom that comes with great wealth and Ari for the “class” Maria brings to his name. Their relationship is only one facet of Maria’s dramatic personal life, in that way not unlike the characters she performed on stage.

A brief visit to Lausanne

I just returned from Lausanne where I spent a few days with my niece NR while her parents tended to professional commitments. The two of us had a great time hanging out in the park plus I indoctrinated her into English culture  via the adventures of Paddington Bear. Once again, I was amazed at how quickly NR is developing. She’s started walking since I saw her 2.5 weeks ago in LI and I noticed her physically mimicking my body language (brushing my hair, applying moisturizer, etc.) this visit. She’s now everyone’s favorite in the family with good reason.

“The Pitmen Painters”

Last night a few of us went to see “The Pitmen Painters”, another production in our recent “English-culture theatre spree”. The “pitmen” refers to miners in the ’30s who formed an arts collective later known as the Ashington Group. M and I loved how projections of the real-life works by these blue-collar painters were interspersed throughout the show: the authenticity, emotions, and subject (their local communities, mining) are incredible considering the men’s lack of technical training and limited exposure to the arts. The show also reminded me of the pleasure that comes from watching actors that have been performing for decades. In the youth culture we live in, opportunities to see seasoned artists perform in mainstream venues are rare. Watching the cast last night inspired me to think about longevity in the arts, commitment to a craft, and ageism in popular culture. Afterward, we explored the creative martini menu at Christopher’s, an American restaurant smack in the middle of London’s West End.

PM and M’s miso salmon

Tonight we hosted PM for dinner. I made my specialty spinach salad, but M was the head chef: he prepared his tried-and-tested miso salmon accompanied by bruschetta (one of my favorites among his cooking repertoire) and baked vegetables chips (parsnip, carrots and sweet potato – yum!!). For desert we shared a pistachio macaroon (M’s favorite) and carrot cake (PM’s favorite). Overall, it was a lovely evening catching up with an old friend and colleague after returning from our respective holiday travel.

Chih-ly at the Halcyon Gallery

We were exposed to glass sculptor Chih-ly’s work within a month of moving to London when we first visited the V&A and were struck by the magnificent “chandelier” hanging overhead upon entering the museum. I put quotes around the word chandelier because until that point my idea of chandeliers was limited to Gothic dining decor favoured by inbred counts and countesses residing in casltes who crawl in the shadows of modernity, likes vampires holding onto the last vestiges of the Old World. We’ve remained fans of the American sculptor whose skills took him to Murano, the glass-making island off of Venice’s mainland, where he did his formal training. Recently we visited Murano with the hopes of finding something even the slightest bit Chih-ly-like but to no avail, so it was with great eagerness that we packed up M’s SLR for an afternoon of photo-taking at Halcyon Gallery which is currently devoted to showcasing the artist’s work.

Although a few of Chih-ly’s paintings were on display, the gallery is largely focused on the artist’s collection of glass sculpture, particularly the chandeliers and wall adornments. We were enamored by both the blue and the pink chandeliers, fantasizing about where we were place such works of art if they ours to call our own.

What I love most about Chih-ly’s glass sculptures is their aquatic aesthetic combined with their sensuality. Although the artist came to glass making prior to moving to Venice to study technique, I am convinced that living in such a water-dominated environment has left a deep impression on him judging from all the free-wheeling tentacles, throbbing organs, and wavey stems that emanate from the centre of his sculptures: the chandeliers, wall hangings and coffee-table pieces all give the impression that they are hyper-colored renderings of seafloor life. Visiting the collection was inspiring, a beautiful way to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon and one that left quite an impression on me in terms of understanding the function beauty has in our lives and the relief careful craftsmanship provides in a world full of mediocre and haphazard design.