One of my summer jobs is booking a chamber concert series for Jersey City. I'm on the payroll of City Hall! There's something about it that's very... I want to say Mr. Chips goes to Washington, but I know that's not right. Anyway, the series I had started a few years ago was called Music From Blue Hill, a name I liked for its graphic possibilities: posters had a little row of mountains sitting behind a skyscrapered city, with the name cascading down from one to the other. I called it that because the starting point was Blue Hill, Maine, where I'd met most of the folksI was playing with at Kneisel Hall. Well,I can't call it that anymore. For one thing, there's a restaurant called Blue Hill that seems to have gotten much more famous since I lived in Israel. For another, it seems like the name should be more site-specific. I want this thing to eventually turn into a non-profit foundation providing free concerts for Jersey City. And City Hall wants me to put these shows on all over the town. Not to be lacking in civic pride, but having Jersey City in the title is kind of unappealing to me. I'm thinking "Gazebo Music" since we've been playing in the gazebo in my park, and I think every park in town has one.I looked it up and it has a strange,possibly bastardized etymology, which is cool. Any other suggestions?
And speaking of what do we call it, check out this article from today's NY Times. Actually it's one of those "duh" pieces they periodically put out on the shrinking/changing audience of classical music. This time it's on chamber music, and I can sum up the piece for you with its last two sentences: "Chamber music is dead. Long live chamber music." Zinger. I'm sorry, but it's always seemed a no-brainer to me that improv or jazz groups are also chamber music. Who cares about the purists? Anyway, here's the link. Enjoy. Or don't.
p.s. This morning I saw another NYT article relating to this whole audience issue: about the Welsh tenor who won "Britain's Got Talent." I always thought what the classical world needed was a big teen romantic comedy movie. Isn't a music camp or youth orchestra so perfect for that? All the gossip and dating mixed in with talent and competition? Instead we get Hilary and Jackie, Shine, The Pianist... I have to admit I've only seen the last one of those 3, and I love it. But these movies seem to portray the choice to be a professional musician as a choice to remove oneself from the company of everyone and everything "normal" in the world. So to see a tenor on reality television, where "normal" people can compete to show they're extraordinary, and hear the audience applaud in the middle- gasp!- of an aria, like it's a jazz solo, and then to hear Puccini absolutely bring the house down. It's like, yes, this is the medium to bring it out there. I don't pay attention to those shows at all- until I watched "Dancing with the Stars" with my Great Aunt Dot last month, and had a blast! It was awesome. Before that, were there ballroom dancing critics bemoaning the decline of the art, or audience? Are there any amazing cellists or clarinetists or harpists trying out for America's Got Talent? Am I cheapening the art form by asking?
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
hope?
I just wanted to correct my former ignorance about Mr. Botstein's amazing Bard prison initiative. Check out what's up on that site, and if you were feeling sort of down that activism isn't having any dynamic effects any longer, maybe this will brighten your day. It was started by someone I went to high school with, which makes me super proud.
Speaking of activism, and the Palestinian/Israeli situation, I had some amazing discussions the last few days on that topic. In Kennebunk, Christopher's hometown, last week, his stepfather John asked me directly what I thought of the future of Israel. I had to admit, that while once I had been somewhat blindly optimistic about it- I felt that it just had to work out someday- now, after living there, and seeing the relative pessimism of Israelis themselves, among other things, I was much more pessimistic myself. I said that the only way I could see progress was if the government revolutionized itself and freed itself of the grip of the fundamentalists: the Zionist settlers and expansionists who refuse to see the effects of their spreading and building. It's well known that former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir said "There is no such thing as a Palestinian People." Can you imagine the reputation of an American president in the late 20th century surviving after saying something like "There is no such thing as a Native American people"??? What frustrates me so much is the complacency of the Israeli and Jewish people, when for me a Jewish government means not a Jewish majority, but government guided by ideals of social justice and "Tikkun Olam," that is, fixing the world. So now, my instinct is to throw up my hands, say I don't know, I'm back in the states, who knows what will happen from now on... Did you know that Israel doesn't have absentee ballots!? A tiny country with a huge percentage of its citizens living abroad!? I wonder if the government would look different if those Israelis could vote. Then again, maybe it's because it's so easy for people like me to become citizens and then a year or two later to return to their home country, my vote shouldn't count. Anyway, the other day I was talking to my Mom about this whole thought process that John's question inspired. We came to the conclusion that no matter how frustrating the situation, we can't give up on Israel, because too many other people with lots and lots of money, are fighting for a country that looks very different from the one we'd like to see. What would happen if all the liberal or secular (slightly or otherwise) Jews in Israel and around the world gave up? If we left Israel to the fundamentalists? If the only Americans I knew who were going over there were on Birthright- instead of my amazing and inspiring friends going over there to work for the Israeli Coalition Against Housing Demolition, or to start programs of witnessing and dialog like Encounter... then I would be hopeless! If you're interested in any of this, check out these links and follow them to more and see how much hope and optimism there is in action. And tell me what you find.
Speaking of activism, and the Palestinian/Israeli situation, I had some amazing discussions the last few days on that topic. In Kennebunk, Christopher's hometown, last week, his stepfather John asked me directly what I thought of the future of Israel. I had to admit, that while once I had been somewhat blindly optimistic about it- I felt that it just had to work out someday- now, after living there, and seeing the relative pessimism of Israelis themselves, among other things, I was much more pessimistic myself. I said that the only way I could see progress was if the government revolutionized itself and freed itself of the grip of the fundamentalists: the Zionist settlers and expansionists who refuse to see the effects of their spreading and building. It's well known that former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir said "There is no such thing as a Palestinian People." Can you imagine the reputation of an American president in the late 20th century surviving after saying something like "There is no such thing as a Native American people"??? What frustrates me so much is the complacency of the Israeli and Jewish people, when for me a Jewish government means not a Jewish majority, but government guided by ideals of social justice and "Tikkun Olam," that is, fixing the world. So now, my instinct is to throw up my hands, say I don't know, I'm back in the states, who knows what will happen from now on... Did you know that Israel doesn't have absentee ballots!? A tiny country with a huge percentage of its citizens living abroad!? I wonder if the government would look different if those Israelis could vote. Then again, maybe it's because it's so easy for people like me to become citizens and then a year or two later to return to their home country, my vote shouldn't count. Anyway, the other day I was talking to my Mom about this whole thought process that John's question inspired. We came to the conclusion that no matter how frustrating the situation, we can't give up on Israel, because too many other people with lots and lots of money, are fighting for a country that looks very different from the one we'd like to see. What would happen if all the liberal or secular (slightly or otherwise) Jews in Israel and around the world gave up? If we left Israel to the fundamentalists? If the only Americans I knew who were going over there were on Birthright- instead of my amazing and inspiring friends going over there to work for the Israeli Coalition Against Housing Demolition, or to start programs of witnessing and dialog like Encounter... then I would be hopeless! If you're interested in any of this, check out these links and follow them to more and see how much hope and optimism there is in action. And tell me what you find.
blogs need pictures too
With everything that's falling apart for the Palestinians right now, I wanted to upload some pictures from Christopher's trip to the West Bank. It was after I'd already left Israel; I was in San Diego with the Quartet. I think these children were in Jericho, perhaps the dude in the shades was in Bethlehem. Things are a little easier there.
It's so incredibly ironic that things for folks in the West Bank will get better somehow from all this, that in a way they will benefit while Gazans are starving and terrified. It's horrible for all Palestinians, the division of their country into two parts, and has been these many years since the Intifada and Israel's response has shut so many doors. I hope there will be a solution out of this, somehow, someday, so that Gazans can also receive international help again, and that all Palestinians can acheive some sort of self-determination, peace, and comfort.
The other pics are from my last night in Israel. Mr. Ben Gurion guards his airport with his enormous wings of hair. It's the safest piece of land on earth. And that ridiculously cute baby pulling my hair belongs to our good friends in Tel Aviv, Sonja and Daniel.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Oviedo
I'm blaming this latest silence on Leon Botstein. Christopher's first day back in the US, in my second week back here or so, we drove up to Bard College. It's my Dad's alma mater, and he was attending a memorial service, alumni brunch and board of directors meeting. We went to the brunch with him. I've known my Dad's college friends my whole life, and they're fun to talk to and hang out with both for being so convivial and merry, and for all being so smart. I sort of felt like I was at the wedding of one of their kids or something, the mood and food were both so rich and festive- maybe it was just that it was super nice to get to introduce Christopher to them. Anyway, of course, inevitably the speeches started. And Leon, the head of Bard for the last milennium or so, was entertaining and random, seeming to address every issue But whatever had been asked of him. At one point he went off on blogging and e-mail culture, in that curmudgeonly faux-Luddite tone we all love so much in our college presidents. No, of course, everything he said was right on, but of course I couldn't help but take it personally. Tho when you're sitting in a crowded room like that, and the speaker blasts people who write blogs, you can't help but look around and think, how many others? Twelve? Twenty? Who else is spilling their guts in their pajamas? Leon called blogs "the detritus and cuttings from a publishing house floor" because of their lack of editorial oversight. I got a little satisfaction a few weeks later when he showed up on the Colbert Report and seemed nervous. Ha, Mr Big-Shot International Orchestra Conductor, Prison-Education Initiative Defender, Youngest Ever College President! You got served by a fake conservative on a fake news show!
I have to add to this, on the subject of politically progressive orchestra leaders, big snaps go to Leonard Bernstein. The other night I heard my Dad sing Chichester Psalms with a big group of Jewish choruses. That piece is incredible. I can't believe I never heard it before! In the car on the way home, Mozart's Prague Symphony was on the radio, which meant that I couldn't hold the slightest shred of conversation since I had to sing along with it from beginning to end. I realized the reason there are so many important pieces I have no familiarity with is that I spent all my time listening to the same few pieces over and over. I was the coolest kid in fourth grade.
One story I've been meaning to share: bringing Spinoza to the US. With the officials on either side, remarkably, unbelievably easy. I filled in the circle on my entry form that I was bringing in an animal- which is the same circle that says you're bringing in food. Leaving the last gate of customs in JFK, the guy noticed it was filled in (the first checkpoint noone had noticed!) and asked what food I was bringing. I said, well, I have a cat in here, and some kitty treats for him. The guy glanced at Spin, then asked to look at the package of Friskies treats. The two of us spent a few minutes discussing the ingredients, both of us finding it interesting that while the flavor was "Whitefish-Tuna" the main ingredients were chicken and corn, before I noticed it said "Made in USA," and he passed me off to someone else to look at Spinoza. I showed this guy the paperwork, he took a look inside Spinny's box, saw how cute he looked all knocked out and drugged up, and said, Ok, go ahead. That was it. No physical, he didn't even pick him up.
On the flight, I was given a middle seat, even though I'd asked for an aisle. I was flustered and grumpy about this, and asked the lady to my right if she would switch with me. She didn't understand me and said something about sleeping, and we had a very odd little back-and-forth. I thought she was saying to me she was going to be sleeping very well, and I said, obnoxiously (I'm ashamed of what a brat I was) "Yeah, it's comfortable to be on the end!" Luckily, she realy didn't seem to understand me at all, and after a moment of silence, she asked, "Would you like to switch? You have a cat!" I thanked her profusely and resolved to make up my obnoxiousness somehow in the course of the flight. She was the sweetest, sweetest lady. I could tell she was Asian by her accent, but her face was so wrinkled, it was like the generic mask of a sweet old grandmother. I asked her where she was from after we'd made some more small talk, and she said Florida. Later on, out of the blue, she started telling me about her childhood during World War 2. We had no electricity, no fire, she said. Some soldier would come from the base with a cigarette, and turn his hat (she meant helmet) upside down and we would cook our food in it. I realized she must have been Japanese. I told her how my Mom grew up hearing sirens, which she didn't remember until 9-11 happened. This lady said, "We didn't hate you. All the people, they are the same. War is made by a few people, but the rest, they don't hate each other." She seemed to be worried that somehow I would have some anti-Japanese feeling because of World War 2!! I didn't go into my almost ridiculous love of all things Japanese, from sushi to origami to gardens, but I did tell her how my friend Mayuko had given me a few lessons on the Koto and how much I loved it. Turns out she also plays Koto! And her friend stole her Koto! It got her a little worked up to tell me about it. In case you don't know, a Koto is about 5- 9 feet long. For someone to steal it, especially another little old lady, is incredibly funny.
I'm embarrassed I can't remember her name. I think it was Ayako.
She was so wonderful to Spinoza, and went on about how smart cats are. "If you love them, they love you- and they protect you!" We talked about how much we both love shows on Animal Planet and Discovery Channel (really, that's what TV was made for- pet blooper shows.) She told me she had also flown with her pet, a dachshund, from Japan to the Philippines, to the US. That seemed to put the drama of Spin's and my trip into perspective.
Anyway, when we got near JFK, I helped her fill in the entry form, so I felt at least a little better for my earlier rudeness. The town she was from in Florida was Oviedo, which I'd never heard of before. We landed early in the morning, and she joined up with the rest of her church group with whom she had traveled to Israel. I didn't get to properly say good-by or thank her. But later that day I was walking through Jersey City, and I saw a bronze model of a church in front of City Hall. I looked closer to check it out, and it was from JC's new partner city: Oviedo, Spain.
I have to add to this, on the subject of politically progressive orchestra leaders, big snaps go to Leonard Bernstein. The other night I heard my Dad sing Chichester Psalms with a big group of Jewish choruses. That piece is incredible. I can't believe I never heard it before! In the car on the way home, Mozart's Prague Symphony was on the radio, which meant that I couldn't hold the slightest shred of conversation since I had to sing along with it from beginning to end. I realized the reason there are so many important pieces I have no familiarity with is that I spent all my time listening to the same few pieces over and over. I was the coolest kid in fourth grade.
One story I've been meaning to share: bringing Spinoza to the US. With the officials on either side, remarkably, unbelievably easy. I filled in the circle on my entry form that I was bringing in an animal- which is the same circle that says you're bringing in food. Leaving the last gate of customs in JFK, the guy noticed it was filled in (the first checkpoint noone had noticed!) and asked what food I was bringing. I said, well, I have a cat in here, and some kitty treats for him. The guy glanced at Spin, then asked to look at the package of Friskies treats. The two of us spent a few minutes discussing the ingredients, both of us finding it interesting that while the flavor was "Whitefish-Tuna" the main ingredients were chicken and corn, before I noticed it said "Made in USA," and he passed me off to someone else to look at Spinoza. I showed this guy the paperwork, he took a look inside Spinny's box, saw how cute he looked all knocked out and drugged up, and said, Ok, go ahead. That was it. No physical, he didn't even pick him up.
On the flight, I was given a middle seat, even though I'd asked for an aisle. I was flustered and grumpy about this, and asked the lady to my right if she would switch with me. She didn't understand me and said something about sleeping, and we had a very odd little back-and-forth. I thought she was saying to me she was going to be sleeping very well, and I said, obnoxiously (I'm ashamed of what a brat I was) "Yeah, it's comfortable to be on the end!" Luckily, she realy didn't seem to understand me at all, and after a moment of silence, she asked, "Would you like to switch? You have a cat!" I thanked her profusely and resolved to make up my obnoxiousness somehow in the course of the flight. She was the sweetest, sweetest lady. I could tell she was Asian by her accent, but her face was so wrinkled, it was like the generic mask of a sweet old grandmother. I asked her where she was from after we'd made some more small talk, and she said Florida. Later on, out of the blue, she started telling me about her childhood during World War 2. We had no electricity, no fire, she said. Some soldier would come from the base with a cigarette, and turn his hat (she meant helmet) upside down and we would cook our food in it. I realized she must have been Japanese. I told her how my Mom grew up hearing sirens, which she didn't remember until 9-11 happened. This lady said, "We didn't hate you. All the people, they are the same. War is made by a few people, but the rest, they don't hate each other." She seemed to be worried that somehow I would have some anti-Japanese feeling because of World War 2!! I didn't go into my almost ridiculous love of all things Japanese, from sushi to origami to gardens, but I did tell her how my friend Mayuko had given me a few lessons on the Koto and how much I loved it. Turns out she also plays Koto! And her friend stole her Koto! It got her a little worked up to tell me about it. In case you don't know, a Koto is about 5- 9 feet long. For someone to steal it, especially another little old lady, is incredibly funny.
I'm embarrassed I can't remember her name. I think it was Ayako.
She was so wonderful to Spinoza, and went on about how smart cats are. "If you love them, they love you- and they protect you!" We talked about how much we both love shows on Animal Planet and Discovery Channel (really, that's what TV was made for- pet blooper shows.) She told me she had also flown with her pet, a dachshund, from Japan to the Philippines, to the US. That seemed to put the drama of Spin's and my trip into perspective.
Anyway, when we got near JFK, I helped her fill in the entry form, so I felt at least a little better for my earlier rudeness. The town she was from in Florida was Oviedo, which I'd never heard of before. We landed early in the morning, and she joined up with the rest of her church group with whom she had traveled to Israel. I didn't get to properly say good-by or thank her. But later that day I was walking through Jersey City, and I saw a bronze model of a church in front of City Hall. I looked closer to check it out, and it was from JC's new partner city: Oviedo, Spain.
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