Magical Björk

Björk  from the Vulnicura cover shoot by Inez Van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin.

Yesterday was my birthday, and I spent it in Brooklyn being mesmerized by Björk.

One of seven sold-out New York shows, Sunday’s performance was at the Kings Theatre, a recently renovated former movie palace from 1929 that is gorgeous and the perfect setting for this brilliant performer.

Björk was accompanied by her co-producer Arca (Alejandro Ghersi), percussionist Manu Delago, and Alarm Will Sound, a 15-piece chamber band (loads of strings). Dressed in a white ensemble and sporting a headpiece of quills that obscured her face, she swayed across the stage, moving her hands and arms in rhythmic response like a ballet dancer.

The first set was comprised of six songs from her new album, Vulnicura, beginning with “Stonemilker” and ending with “Notget.” While Björk sang, “animated notations” were projected onto a screen above the stage. The combination of sound and visual was almost hypnotic. I haven’t purchased Vulnicura yet, which in a way turned out to be a good thing as I got to experience the songs for the first time live.

After an intermission, Björk returned to the stage, hair down and wearing a short dress, to sing two more songs from Vulnicura along with songs from her other albums including “All Neon Like” and “Come to Me,” a personal favourite (although I could have done without the video of two snails mating). She rarely spoke save for an occasional "thank you" or "gracias" and to introduce the musicians on stage. For her final encore she sang “All is Full of Love,” which aptly describes how the audience felt about Björk.

I didn’t take any photos of the show. There were signs posted on the doors asking the audience not to at Bjork’s request because it was distracting and that she wished us to enjoy being part of the performance, “not preoccupied with recording it.” And that is exactly what I did.

The End of an Era

Man Men returns next month for its final season and there are celebrations going on in various cities including New York. Tonight I went to the Film Society of Lincoln Center to see "Mad Men: The End of an Era," a conversation with the show's creator, Matthew Weiner, and Jon Hamm, January Jones, Christina Hendricks, and John Slattery, moderated by Chuck Klosterman.

My terrible photo taken from the back of the orchestra at tonight's event.

Jon Hamm may be the handsomest man I have ever seen in person. He was also very funny (and wore red-striped socks). John Slattery told a hilarious story about filming the infamous scene where he wore blackface. January Jones was gorgeous and spoke the least but got in one good zinger.Christina Hendricks explained how the Joan walk came about (tightness of the dresses) and at one point left the stage and returned with drinks for her and Jones. And Matthew Weiner told tons of stories like how his son, Martin, came to be cast as Glen and how he wanted to give his characters things to do while delivering their lines but didn't want them to walk and talk like in The West Wing. 

The evening included screenings of clips that each of them had chosen. The first one up was from Mystery Date from Season Five (above). Weiner picked it because he had always wanted to see it screened in front of an audience. It's classic Mad Men and a great example of the humour on the show. The event served as a reminder of not just how brilliant the show is but how sad I'm going to be saying good-bye to the employees of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce.

Mad Men returns to AMC on April 5, 2015.

Joan

"Joan Didion. Hollywood." Julian Wasser (1968)

In 1968 photographer Julian Wasser was sent by TIME Magazine to shoot a young Joan Didion at her home in Hollywood. The resulting black and white images of the author—staring directly at the camera, cigarette in hand; with her daughter, Quintana Roo, on her lap; in her new Corvette Stingray—remind us (as if we needed reminding) that Didion has always been cool.

The Danziger Gallery currently has an exhibit of these images including outtakes and contact sheets (I always find these so fascinating to look at). The show closes on March 21, so get over there if you can. 

For more information about the exhibit, visit here.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Glencar Lake and Ben Bulben, County Sligo, Ireland. Photo from here.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! As I've done in the past, I'm going to celebrate today by sharing with you a poem by my favourite poet, W.B. Yeats. The Stolen Child is set in county Sligo, Ireland where Yeats spent his childhood and where I studied his poetry one summer many years ago. 

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland

Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, 

There lies a leafy island 

Where flapping herons wake 

The drowsy water rats; 

There we’ve hid our faery vats, 

Full of berrys 

And of reddest stolen cherries. 

Come away, O human child! 

To the waters and the wild 

With a faery, hand in hand, 

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. 

Where the wave of moonlight glosses 

The dim gray sands with light, 

Far off by furthest Rosses 

We foot it all the night, 

Weaving olden dances 

Mingling hands and mingling glances 

Till the moon has taken flight; 

To and fro we leap 

And chase the frothy bubbles, 

While the world is full of troubles 

And anxious in its sleep. 

Come away, O human child! 

To the waters and the wild 

With a faery, hand in hand, 

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. 

Where the wandering water gushes 

From the hills above Glen-Car, 

In pools among the rushes 

That scarce could bathe a star, 

We seek for slumbering trout 

And whispering in their ears 

Give them unquiet dreams; 

Leaning softly out 

From ferns that drop their tears 

Over the young streams. 

Come away, O human child! 

To the waters and the wild 

With a faery, hand in hand, 

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. 

Away with us he’s going, 

The solemn-eyed: 

He’ll hear no more the lowing 

Of the calves on the warm hillside 

Or the kettle on the hob 

Sing peace into his breast, 

Or see the brown mice bob 

Round and round the oatmeal chest. 

For he comes, the human child, 

To the waters and the wild 

With a faery, hand in hand, 

For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.

Contemplation

Almost a month has gone by since I've posted anything here. Without going into details, the past few weeks have been both busy and stressful with a lot of uncertainty thrown into the mix. I’ve been spending a good portion of my time contemplating my next move (running away to Paris to live in a garret and write is at the top of the list). As a result plans for posts that I wanted to write went out the proverbial window. There were the exhibits and gallery shows: Cubism and Madame Cezanne at the Met; Lincoln at the Morgan Library; Don Quixote tapestries at the Frick;  Marc Riboud’s photos of Asia at the Rubin Museum; and the gigantic Armory Show where I saw a lovely portrait by Moïse Kisling and a Robert Capa image from the Spanish Civil War. There was also a big Broadway show, On the Town, and Parallel Exit's delightful performance of Everyone Gets Cake. And, of course, movies.

Writing long posts take time so moving forward there may be fewer posts and sometimes shorter ones (a quick snippet and a photo or two) but there will be posts. I love sharing my thoughts about history and the arts with you and hope you enjoy reading them. In the meantime, be sure to follow me on instagram and twitter, and pinterest too (where I pin way too many photos of Frenchies and striped shirts). And if I wind up in that garret, I'll be sure to let you know.

PS: If anyone has any information about the photo above, please share. All I know is sitting around in ones lingerie, reading a book with a dog (even a stuffed one) seems ideal.