Miscellaneous rumblings

The unit upstairs goes on the market next week.

Tonight the owners are rolling heavy objects from one room to another. Their unit is the penthouse - the entire top floor of this building - so they have plenty of room to rumble, as it were. From time to time Sparky crouches, looks up, then runs to another room.

Outside we have rain, wind and snow in the mountains, after a week or more of cold but clear weather. It was especially annoying to set clocks ahead last Saturday night with snow falling - Daylight Saving time is supposed to have something to do with spring, after all!

Cats have the right idea:



But I'm not a cat, so I bundled up and went out, to see the current exhibition, works from the Munich Secession,here. The Frye has been part of Seattle's art scene for a long time, with a collection best described as "eclectic." Because much of the permanent collection was acquired early in the 20th century with the help of an American artist who had studied and exhibited with the artists of the Secession, everything on the walls converges at this exhibit. Some paintings are beautiful, a few are downright creepy, but the show is well worth a visit. Look for the Childe Hassam painting of woman and child in the Parc Monceau, and the portrait of a woman in a pale pink ensemble that is the essence of fashion circa 1907.

This painting, called "Dead Man on a Beach," looks astonishing like one of the more jarring scenes in Erwartung. If the woman were only wearing a white robe instead of a black shawl...

The economy is everywhere...

One of the side effects of the current economic situation is - old coins.

Not collectible coins, just old coins. Lately when I've examined a miscellaneous handful of change, I've found coins with dates from way back. So far the star of the collection is a 1910 Lincoln penny, in well-circulated condition.

I think these coins are coming from cigar boxes and piggy banks and jars in the back of drawers and all the other places change accumulates. As a bit of a coin hoarder myself, I know what an eye-popping Coinstar total slip looks like.

"Every little bit helps, as the old lady said when..."

Never mind. It was one of my father's quips.

Not again.....!

More snow this morning - two or three inches, depending on where you live. I want these daffodils to open fearlessly, not drowse half-open under melting snow.

We've already had our February week of sunshine and warmth, the reason there are so many white-laden daffodils and crocuses this morning.

Two more orchestra concerts coming up, next Wednesday and the week after. Even our conductor, who is talented, energetic, skilled - and fearless! - admits the current program is the most difficult she has ever chosen for us. Unluckily for all concerned, several strong players are unavailable this quarter, and although we may sound like this, it isn't intended.

Now that Ash Wednesday is past, it must be time for Easter music rehearsals. Tonight we'll find out if it's true that our choir and another may combine for the Brahms "Requiem."

Dr. Freud goes to the opera

Like the novel, opera takes on all subjects. Already this season Seattle Opera has moved from Ancient Greece, to a candy-box idea of Ceylon, and now comes turn-of-the-20th-century Vienna.

The program features two one-act operas: "Bluebeard's Castle," by Bartok, and "Erwartung," by Schoenberg. Practically speaking, the double bill is a great solution for hard times, as one opera ("Bluebeard") has only two main characters, and "Erwartung" has only one.

All the singers are talented and experienced, more than able to keep up to the spiky music. "Erwartung" is a tour-de-force for the soprano, who makes the difficult music swirl and soar.

Both operas grew out of the ferment of all things new in their time, to the point that the libretto for "Erwartung" was written for Schoenberg by a woman who was deeply engaged by Freud's work. Bartok's interpretation of the Bluebeard legend was heavily influenced by Nietzsche.

The wide gold frame surrounding the stage immediately sets the mood - the dark side of one of Klimt's glowing canvases.

All that said, these operas felt like the longest one-act events I've ever sat through. I'm glad to have seen the production, but wish I had ordered a glass of wine during intermission!

President's Day weekend

In spite of missing 99% of its leaves, this amaryllis managed to push out one perfect blossom, just in time for Valentine's Day. (I photographed it in front of a jade plant to have a bit of green in the picture.) Whoever packed the bulb into its shipping box trimmed overenthusiastically, and I expected very little after planting.

It's a sunny morning, and I hope it stays that way. Yesterday began clear and almost warm, then the weather did a 180, and by the time I went out to check on the Sunday market, it was gray, damp and really cold. At the market, vendors huddled under quilts or blankets, hoping the sun would come out in time to attract more shoppers.

Mid-afternoon a friend and I attended the final performance of the Fauré Requiem, featuring the Symphony Chorale. For these performances, the guest conductor worked with a chamber-size instrumental ensemble featuring lower orchestral voices - viola, cello, bass, French horn, harp, plus the organ - and the 80-voice chorale maintained a vibrant, but appropriately pianissimo, tone quality throughout.

"There are only about 25 measures of double forte in this piece," said the Chorale director before the performance. Because the singers did the pianissimo and pianississimo sections so well, the few loud sections stood out as they were supposed to do.

The Fauré is the loveliest requiem I know, and I've had the good luck to sing it several times. Fauré himself called it "Death's lullaby" ("la berceuse de morte") and insisted on leaving out most of the more terrifying sections of the requiem mass. Whether listening or singing, I have never made it through the last section, "In Paradisium," without tearing up.

My friend heard the Requiem in a church in New York City, two weeks after 9/11.

"Not a dry eye in the house," she said. When the collection plate went around (the performance was a benefit for rescue workers) the big bills quickly piled up.

So I planted primroses, because spring is coming...

...And there they are, yesterday morning, poking through SNOW. It melted as soon as the sun came out, but still.

Today the weather has veered between rain, snow in places, and a mist over the lake that might be fog, rain, snow or just very low clouds.

It's good weather to stay in. I've done minutes for a meeting last night, written a press release for the upcoming orchestra concert, and made a poster to print out. All that's left is the concert program.

Back to The Tale of Genji, my current retreat from modern life. 11th century Japanese princes spent a lot of time dressing in beautiful clothes and visiting compliant (and some not-so-compliant) ladies, according to the first few chapters of Murasaki Shikibu's book (she lived at court, and wrote about what she knew.)

If February comes, can Opening Day be far behind?

Down on the lake no fewer than 25 sailing craft of all sizes are circling and coming together, generally resembling a herd gathering to go somewhere. One boat has a beautiful blue sail, with zigzags of mauve and pink - and it's flying a black skull-and-crossbones.

On weekday mornings assorted college and high school crews row by before daybreak, pulling to the shouted commands of the coaches who motor alongside.

Weather today is colder than it looks, but the sun is out. I got up in the dark to make it to early choir practice, but soon a pink mist prefigured the sunrise, and the sun was visible until I got to the I-90 bridge, where it disappeared over a fogged-in lake.

Best not to think of Laguna Beach (or of Mexico, from whence a friend promises to return well-tanned, after a sojourn in Playa del Carmen.)

In addition to a wonderful beach and sunshine, Laguna has a fine art museum, dating from its days as a mecca for Southern California artists. We were there in time to see this exhibit, a retrospective of one of the better-known locals.

Later we attended an opening of exuberantly colorful works by a living artist, who divides his time between Europe, Maine and Laguna. My favorite was this picture, used on the advertising for the show.


(Opening Day is the official first day of boating, usually the first Saturday in May, usually - but not always - freezing cold!)