Sunday, 10 July 2011
Things I want to remember about London
Coming home from the British Museum with Isabel on a July evening. Heard a sharp, sweet bird call (seemed odd for 9:30 pm). Went over to investigate and saw a blackbird with its yellow beak on a branch singing his heart out. Isabel was so happy. We walked on and immediately came across a rowhouse with one of those round blue historical plaques on it that told us Thomas Hardy had lived here. Isabel begged to hear a story by this writer. What to choose: Jude the Obscure? Tragic beyond belief. Mayor of Casterbridge? Man sells his wife. Brilliantly, I settled on Tess of the d'Urbervilles and got about as far as beginning to explain the concepts of seduction, ruin, and rape of women before I realized I would have to stop.
Saturday, 25 June 2011
The Devils Festival at The Print Room -- June 25, 2011
Last night Ben and I went to a Notting Hill theater a few blocks away from us on Hereford Road for an evening that was (pardon the cliche) unforgettable.
The Print Room is a non-profit arts venue and performance space in Notting Hill for theatre, music, dance and visual art. This month, they are offering a special program featuring young artists' work--"Devil's Festival," since it's "diabolic" (so they are suggesting) to offer such daring fare--and since Isabel had a sleepover, off we went.
I'm not sure what we were expecting. I'd walked by the Print Room many times and it looks fairly unprepossessing from the outside, inside even more so (during the day), with a courtyard cluttered with dustbins and ladders, peeling paint, and no one on hand in the office when I came to collect our tickets. No matter. We've done relatively little theater in London, and this evening offered a lot of bang for our artistic buck: two short plays, a dance performance, a light and sound installation ("experience"), and a photography exhibition.
I won't say the venue was transformed when we turned up that evening, but it had cleaned up nicely, its cobbled entrance and couryard lined with candles and with a charming ivy-shrouded side garden opened up for the audience to stroll in between performances. As it runs out, it was "neighborhood night," which meant there was wine and sparkling water and some hors d'oeuvres set out when we arrived, and we mingled before the first show with a fun and eclectic crowd of what Ben has taken to calling "Notting Hillbillies" (I don't think he coined this phrase): an intriguing mix of artsy gay men (young ones on dates, and longer term partners); wealthy empty-nesters dressed ever so smartly; eccentric looking older couples (probably also well off), the women in crumpled linen and orthopaedic shoes, the men with funny glasses; and the distinctly international set that is a hallmark of Notting Hill. "Bea" (for example), gorgeous in her high heels and encrusted with some serious bling, was a diplomat's daughter with an indistinct accent (Brazilian, it turns out) and kids in the best Holland Park school. The theater itself was started by two women with impressive theatrical resumes, Anda Winters, originally from Croatia and Lucy Bailey from the UK. We also met Anda's "best friend," a Japanese American pianist who flew in from NYC.
Enough with the scene-setting!
Performance #1 was a dance piece titled Kanaval, choreographed by Hubert Essakow, and inspired in part by photographs by Leah Gordon of Haiti's Carnaval and Voudo traditions. The piece and performance were mesmerizing. Four youngish dancers -- two men and two women -- with simple masks and sometimes using chairs, doing incredibly graceful and athletic moves. The music itself was mesmerizing.
Performance #2 was a short and not often performed Chekhov play titled Swan Song, about an actor at the end of his career drunk after a benefit in his honor and reflecting to his prompter on his life in the theater. I thought the actor was terrific, full of bombast and very poignant at times. The play itself is a slip of a thing and a bit of a bore, in my opinion. But so great to see this guy tearing up the scenery.
Performance #3 was another short play, this one by Martin Crimp, Fewer Emergencies. Ben and I had been most excited about this one because Crimp is known for his caustic, non-narrative pieces wherein anywhere for 5 to 10 actors opine sharply and often humorously on the idiocies and tragedies of modern life in the First World. His pieces feel something like a Mamet play, but with only the smallest of narrative through-lines, with the actors sitting or standing around commenting on events and people not seen but shaped as these actors talk about them. The Mamet-like part is the rapid-fire delivery of lines back and forth and repetition of certain key phrases, in this case "That's a good question", but also a repeating back of a line from one character to another as first, a statement, then a questioning of that statement, and then a confirmation of that statement, as in, Actor A: "He's been getting up to all sorts of things." Actor B: "He's been getting up to all sorts of things?" Actor A (nods head emphatically): "He's been getting up to all sorts of things."
Whatever else one thinks, this piece was terrifically fun to watch, riveting really, as the comments and statements flew back and forth ping-pong like, and a story about a couple and their son and a few other details emerged. Actually, now that I think of it, it reminded me somewhat of Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" with the snapping back and forth delivery of lines and the fact that the son referred to isn't there. Well, actually, nobody is. It's just the four or five actors sitting around the table drinking wine and eating fruit and talking about a family we never see.
Performance #4 I think Ben and I both voted this "the piece we would most have liked Isa to see" (though, indeed, she probably would have enjoyed all of them). This was a sound installation created by Petra Jean Philipson called Of The Things We Do Not See. The audience was asked to don light white hazmat type suits with hoods and booties for the feet. We then entered a white tent lined with comfy white pillows -- this set up inside the performance space -- where we were asked to lie down and make ourselves comfortable. Audio of birds gently chirping eased us into a soothing mode as yellow, red, and blue lights slowly dimmed overhead and a bizarrely soothing audio which sounded like Australian aboriginal music throbbed (it was vaguely Tibetan, we later learned, and one of the voices was the artist's). I'm not sure how long the whole thing went on. The lights changed from red to orange to blue (I think) and I'm guessing a good percentage of the audience, bellies now full of wine and good cheese and crackers, may have dozed off. I couldn't get into it because too crowded up against people on all sides. Ben had more room and lay blissfully still, soaking in the sounds and light. The artist makes claims for the healing properties of this experience and told us all to drink a lot of water to rid ourselves of the toxins when we got home. I'll have to ask Ben if his pulled hamstring feels better this morning.
All in all, a wonderful experience. I think what struck us both was the happy intimacy of the space and the scene and a distinct lack of pretentiousness. There was good, at times even excellent, art happening, and genuinely intellectually engaged people turning up to appreciate it. After the performances, the actors and dancers changed and came out to have a glass of wine and a bite and mingled unobtrusively with the crowd. The impossibly youngish looking Dan Ayling who directed the Crimp play was there with his proud mum. The dancers were having a drink and a "fag" in the garden later on, and we were able to ask the actors in the Crimp play if that was real wine they were drinking? -- no, grape juice. They joked with us that they should try it with real wine and see how it went.
The Print Room is a non-profit arts venue and performance space in Notting Hill for theatre, music, dance and visual art. This month, they are offering a special program featuring young artists' work--"Devil's Festival," since it's "diabolic" (so they are suggesting) to offer such daring fare--and since Isabel had a sleepover, off we went.
I'm not sure what we were expecting. I'd walked by the Print Room many times and it looks fairly unprepossessing from the outside, inside even more so (during the day), with a courtyard cluttered with dustbins and ladders, peeling paint, and no one on hand in the office when I came to collect our tickets. No matter. We've done relatively little theater in London, and this evening offered a lot of bang for our artistic buck: two short plays, a dance performance, a light and sound installation ("experience"), and a photography exhibition.
I won't say the venue was transformed when we turned up that evening, but it had cleaned up nicely, its cobbled entrance and couryard lined with candles and with a charming ivy-shrouded side garden opened up for the audience to stroll in between performances. As it runs out, it was "neighborhood night," which meant there was wine and sparkling water and some hors d'oeuvres set out when we arrived, and we mingled before the first show with a fun and eclectic crowd of what Ben has taken to calling "Notting Hillbillies" (I don't think he coined this phrase): an intriguing mix of artsy gay men (young ones on dates, and longer term partners); wealthy empty-nesters dressed ever so smartly; eccentric looking older couples (probably also well off), the women in crumpled linen and orthopaedic shoes, the men with funny glasses; and the distinctly international set that is a hallmark of Notting Hill. "Bea" (for example), gorgeous in her high heels and encrusted with some serious bling, was a diplomat's daughter with an indistinct accent (Brazilian, it turns out) and kids in the best Holland Park school. The theater itself was started by two women with impressive theatrical resumes, Anda Winters, originally from Croatia and Lucy Bailey from the UK. We also met Anda's "best friend," a Japanese American pianist who flew in from NYC.
Enough with the scene-setting!
Performance #1 was a dance piece titled Kanaval, choreographed by Hubert Essakow, and inspired in part by photographs by Leah Gordon of Haiti's Carnaval and Voudo traditions. The piece and performance were mesmerizing. Four youngish dancers -- two men and two women -- with simple masks and sometimes using chairs, doing incredibly graceful and athletic moves. The music itself was mesmerizing.
Performance #2 was a short and not often performed Chekhov play titled Swan Song, about an actor at the end of his career drunk after a benefit in his honor and reflecting to his prompter on his life in the theater. I thought the actor was terrific, full of bombast and very poignant at times. The play itself is a slip of a thing and a bit of a bore, in my opinion. But so great to see this guy tearing up the scenery.
Performance #3 was another short play, this one by Martin Crimp, Fewer Emergencies. Ben and I had been most excited about this one because Crimp is known for his caustic, non-narrative pieces wherein anywhere for 5 to 10 actors opine sharply and often humorously on the idiocies and tragedies of modern life in the First World. His pieces feel something like a Mamet play, but with only the smallest of narrative through-lines, with the actors sitting or standing around commenting on events and people not seen but shaped as these actors talk about them. The Mamet-like part is the rapid-fire delivery of lines back and forth and repetition of certain key phrases, in this case "That's a good question", but also a repeating back of a line from one character to another as first, a statement, then a questioning of that statement, and then a confirmation of that statement, as in, Actor A: "He's been getting up to all sorts of things." Actor B: "He's been getting up to all sorts of things?" Actor A (nods head emphatically): "He's been getting up to all sorts of things."
Whatever else one thinks, this piece was terrifically fun to watch, riveting really, as the comments and statements flew back and forth ping-pong like, and a story about a couple and their son and a few other details emerged. Actually, now that I think of it, it reminded me somewhat of Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" with the snapping back and forth delivery of lines and the fact that the son referred to isn't there. Well, actually, nobody is. It's just the four or five actors sitting around the table drinking wine and eating fruit and talking about a family we never see.
Performance #4 I think Ben and I both voted this "the piece we would most have liked Isa to see" (though, indeed, she probably would have enjoyed all of them). This was a sound installation created by Petra Jean Philipson called Of The Things We Do Not See. The audience was asked to don light white hazmat type suits with hoods and booties for the feet. We then entered a white tent lined with comfy white pillows -- this set up inside the performance space -- where we were asked to lie down and make ourselves comfortable. Audio of birds gently chirping eased us into a soothing mode as yellow, red, and blue lights slowly dimmed overhead and a bizarrely soothing audio which sounded like Australian aboriginal music throbbed (it was vaguely Tibetan, we later learned, and one of the voices was the artist's). I'm not sure how long the whole thing went on. The lights changed from red to orange to blue (I think) and I'm guessing a good percentage of the audience, bellies now full of wine and good cheese and crackers, may have dozed off. I couldn't get into it because too crowded up against people on all sides. Ben had more room and lay blissfully still, soaking in the sounds and light. The artist makes claims for the healing properties of this experience and told us all to drink a lot of water to rid ourselves of the toxins when we got home. I'll have to ask Ben if his pulled hamstring feels better this morning.
All in all, a wonderful experience. I think what struck us both was the happy intimacy of the space and the scene and a distinct lack of pretentiousness. There was good, at times even excellent, art happening, and genuinely intellectually engaged people turning up to appreciate it. After the performances, the actors and dancers changed and came out to have a glass of wine and a bite and mingled unobtrusively with the crowd. The impossibly youngish looking Dan Ayling who directed the Crimp play was there with his proud mum. The dancers were having a drink and a "fag" in the garden later on, and we were able to ask the actors in the Crimp play if that was real wine they were drinking? -- no, grape juice. They joked with us that they should try it with real wine and see how it went.
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
My favorite podcasts
Recently I wrote on Facebook about the Nerdist Podcast. I've been listening to it for about 9 months -- cannot even remember why I started downloading it -- but it quickly became my favorite. Here's why, followed by a shortlist of other favorites that I download and listen to regularly as I jog around London's parks or do the dishes.
The Nerdist podcast -- Hosted by comedian Chris Hardwick and sidekicks, Jonah and Matt, this is 1 to 2 hours of interviews and banter devoted to nerd culture and nerd humor. Hardwick often has comedians on -- Adam Carolla, Sarah Silverman, Doug Benson -- but quirkier choices too like Chris Anderson from Wired, Weird Al Yankovic, Jon Hamm. The key to the show's appeal, imho, is that Chris Hardwick is such a naturally good interviewer and really funny and nice to boot (yes, I'm crushing a bit -- sorry!). The dynamic with his friends is hilarious. They are sweet nerds (with a lot of swearing) who talk about their weight and back problems and struggles with doing standup.
http://www.nerdist.com/category/podcast/
Slate Political Gabfest -- Slate editors Emily Baselon, John Dickerson, and David Plotz discuss current political news. Good discussion and analysis. Emily covers legal and Supreme Court stuff interestingly; David is abrasive but funny and passionate free speech advocate; John is more middle-of-the road, wonky, and poll-citing.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/Gabfest/gabfest1.xm
KCRW's Left, Right, and Center -- Format and tone similar to above but panelists are 20 years older and thus tend to cite the New Deal and Eisenhower a little more. :). Matt Miller (Center) moderates panel of Robert Sheer (die-hard lefty), Tony Blankley (Right winger with charming personality and irritating accent -- cross between Boston Brahmin and posh British) and Arianna Huffington (LOVE the accent) of the blogosphere (replaced temporarily by guest panelists including Mary Matalin during the AOL acquisition of HuffPo). Things can get pretty heated, especially between Bob and Tony.
http://www.kcrw.com/news/programs/lr
Slate Culture Gabfest -- Slate editors Stephen Metcalf, Dana Stevens, and Julia Turner (?). Same as Political Gabfest but for culture. Veers interestingly and chaotically from high-brow to low-brow -- Justin Bieber, foodies, Gwen Stefani, post-modernism, Huck Finn controversy, the Academy Awards, etc.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/Culturefest/culturefest1.xml
Real Time with Bill Maher -- More political talk and/but quite funny as well (Maher's a comedian). His monologues at the end can be quite profound. Guests, usually three, have included Cornel West, Arianna Huffington, Janeane Garofalo, Eliot Spitzer, Paul Begala, Michael Steele and lots more conservatives whose names I can't remember. Maher, used to be more of a libertarian, asks panel frustrating questions so many liberals are always asking themselves: why is Democratic party such a bunch of weenies? Why do so many poor Americans consistently vote against their own best interests?, etc.
http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/real-time-with-bill-maher/id98746009
In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg -- British intellectual/commentator Melvyn Bragg in discussion with three specialists -- historians or literary critics or philsophers -- on questions of historical import and/or about historical phenomena: The Oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece; the Dao, the Industrial Revolution in Britain, Cleopatra. Really fun.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/iot
WTF with Marc Maron -- This podcast got a recent write-up in the NYT, but please note I was listening well before! Maron is a standup comedian who also did a stint on Air America for a bit. Deeply insecure, wears his heart on his sleeve in a big way about his life, relationships, foibles, angst. etc. He invites fellow comedians on (some of them his friends and former friends), using part of the time to process his relationship with (and often jealousy and resentment of) them as well as just shooting the shit about comedy and fellow comedians along the way. He is frequently laugh-out-loud funny.
http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/wtf-with-marc-maron-podcast/id329875043
Slate Double X Factor -- Three Slate female editors -- Hannah Rosen, Jessica Gross, and usually a rotating third one, talk about issues specifically affecting women. They are particularly good on media moments like the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, female pols -- Nicky Haley, Sarah Palin, and Hilary Clinton, issues like bullying and reproductive rights, etc. They also do a spin-off book club which is incredibly good -- heard them on Jonathan Franzen's Freedom recently.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/doublex/doublex1.xml
Rachel Maddow Show -- I discovered her later than most. Like Bill Maher, she scratches your outraged liberal itch and it's great to hear a strong woman's voice after so many male voices on politics.
http://podcastfeeds.nbcnews.com/audio/podcast/MSNBC-MADDOW-NETCAST-MP3.xml
The Nerdist podcast -- Hosted by comedian Chris Hardwick and sidekicks, Jonah and Matt, this is 1 to 2 hours of interviews and banter devoted to nerd culture and nerd humor. Hardwick often has comedians on -- Adam Carolla, Sarah Silverman, Doug Benson -- but quirkier choices too like Chris Anderson from Wired, Weird Al Yankovic, Jon Hamm. The key to the show's appeal, imho, is that Chris Hardwick is such a naturally good interviewer and really funny and nice to boot (yes, I'm crushing a bit -- sorry!). The dynamic with his friends is hilarious. They are sweet nerds (with a lot of swearing) who talk about their weight and back problems and struggles with doing standup.
http://www.nerdist.com/category/podcast/
Slate Political Gabfest -- Slate editors Emily Baselon, John Dickerson, and David Plotz discuss current political news. Good discussion and analysis. Emily covers legal and Supreme Court stuff interestingly; David is abrasive but funny and passionate free speech advocate; John is more middle-of-the road, wonky, and poll-citing.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/Gabfest/gabfest1.xm
KCRW's Left, Right, and Center -- Format and tone similar to above but panelists are 20 years older and thus tend to cite the New Deal and Eisenhower a little more. :). Matt Miller (Center) moderates panel of Robert Sheer (die-hard lefty), Tony Blankley (Right winger with charming personality and irritating accent -- cross between Boston Brahmin and posh British) and Arianna Huffington (LOVE the accent) of the blogosphere (replaced temporarily by guest panelists including Mary Matalin during the AOL acquisition of HuffPo). Things can get pretty heated, especially between Bob and Tony.
http://www.kcrw.com/news/programs/lr
Slate Culture Gabfest -- Slate editors Stephen Metcalf, Dana Stevens, and Julia Turner (?). Same as Political Gabfest but for culture. Veers interestingly and chaotically from high-brow to low-brow -- Justin Bieber, foodies, Gwen Stefani, post-modernism, Huck Finn controversy, the Academy Awards, etc.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/Culturefest/culturefest1.xml
Real Time with Bill Maher -- More political talk and/but quite funny as well (Maher's a comedian). His monologues at the end can be quite profound. Guests, usually three, have included Cornel West, Arianna Huffington, Janeane Garofalo, Eliot Spitzer, Paul Begala, Michael Steele and lots more conservatives whose names I can't remember. Maher, used to be more of a libertarian, asks panel frustrating questions so many liberals are always asking themselves: why is Democratic party such a bunch of weenies? Why do so many poor Americans consistently vote against their own best interests?, etc.
http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/real-time-with-bill-maher/id98746009
In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg -- British intellectual/commentator Melvyn Bragg in discussion with three specialists -- historians or literary critics or philsophers -- on questions of historical import and/or about historical phenomena: The Oracle of Delphi in Ancient Greece; the Dao, the Industrial Revolution in Britain, Cleopatra. Really fun.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/iot
WTF with Marc Maron -- This podcast got a recent write-up in the NYT, but please note I was listening well before! Maron is a standup comedian who also did a stint on Air America for a bit. Deeply insecure, wears his heart on his sleeve in a big way about his life, relationships, foibles, angst. etc. He invites fellow comedians on (some of them his friends and former friends), using part of the time to process his relationship with (and often jealousy and resentment of) them as well as just shooting the shit about comedy and fellow comedians along the way. He is frequently laugh-out-loud funny.
http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/wtf-with-marc-maron-podcast/id329875043
Slate Double X Factor -- Three Slate female editors -- Hannah Rosen, Jessica Gross, and usually a rotating third one, talk about issues specifically affecting women. They are particularly good on media moments like the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, female pols -- Nicky Haley, Sarah Palin, and Hilary Clinton, issues like bullying and reproductive rights, etc. They also do a spin-off book club which is incredibly good -- heard them on Jonathan Franzen's Freedom recently.
http://media.slate.com/media/slate/Podcasts/doublex/doublex1.xml
Rachel Maddow Show -- I discovered her later than most. Like Bill Maher, she scratches your outraged liberal itch and it's great to hear a strong woman's voice after so many male voices on politics.
http://podcastfeeds.nbcnews.com/audio/podcast/MSNBC-MADDOW-NETCAST-MP3.xml
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Isabel the Wonderchild and some thoughts on feel good vs. martinet parenting
"Isabel the Wonderchild" is what my friend Tina once teasingly and affectionately called Isa and I appreciated the sentiment then and now. Fact is, we all think and/or treat our children like they are the cats' pajamas (or we Western boomer-and-beyond parents tend to -- I'll deal with Tiger Mother Amy Chua in a moment). Who hasn't been guilty of delighting or boring others with stories of their progeny's wonderfulness? And in this parenting generation, it's been all about the importance of building self-esteem and convincing each child that she or he is "special." From the time Isabel was a few months old until now, the first words out of our mouths in response to just about anything she did (that wasn't overtly naughty or destructive) was "Good job!."
I've always held (and recognized) that that kind of deep, deep love and appreciation of one's offspring and their inherent specialness reflects our own narcissism (of course!). It's probably something of an evolutionary necessity, too, right?
Anyway, before I bore you with Isabel the Wonderchild's recent accomplishments, a few words about Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Yale professor Amy Chua's recent memoir about raising her two daughters with a markedly Chinese parenting style: Yes, pushing your children to excel and raising the bar for them is good. We need more of that. And I completely agree with Chua's argument that a very profound happiness can come from excelling at something, be it piano, tennis, or skateboarding (you can also have fun being mediocre at something -- just look at my sketchbook!). Where we part company are her motivational methods. I don't care how well adjusted and sweet her daughters are today (according to Emily Baselon of Slate, who has crossed paths with them in New Haven); no good can have come from being locked outside in the cold, prevented from going to the bathroom, or threatened with having one's stuffed animals burned, even if that meant daughter Sophia would end up playing Carnegie Hall.
Anyway, all of this has been written and argued about endlessly, and much more eloquently, elsewhere. Fact is, the jury's still out on the impact of feel-good vs. martinet parenting (and there's obviously a healthy in-between somewhere that most of us hope to achieve). So, onward with the qvelling about Isabel. (Nuclear Family Members: you are obligated to keep reading; the rest of you are off the hook).
Her inventive and imaginary capacity is just amazing to me. She is, no kidding, working on 7 or more book and poetry projects simultaneously. There's Luther, the Unlying Robber; Max and Patrick and their Runaway adventures in Antarctica and Cuba; The Thirteen Boys (parented by Leonard the Dentist and Pablo the House-husband); The AMP (Absent Minded Professor) whose plot takes him into different classrooms around campus and he's such a genius he's able to teach anything from Aztec religion to Physics; a collection of illustrated poetry on different kinds of weather and food groups and their foods; her blog; a written journal; and a whole theology/cosmology called "future gods" she has created as her own personal religion with deities and temples and rituals (with spices!) galore.
It's not that she's a literary genius; I mean I think her poetry and stories in general are terrific for a 9 year old but I'm biased, of course (see the one she wrote on candy at the end of this post). What's more impressive to me is the dedication with which she pursues these projects. Her work ethic is incredible. She devotes hours of each week to conceptualising and writing, and even wants to compare notes about plot and character development as the two of us walk to the National Gallery to meet Ben on a Friday evening. This is always somewhat embarrassing for me since my (for-profit-not-art) romance novel is not only progressing incredibly slowly but it's pretty formulaic and cliche-ridden, not to mention undeniably racy in parts (I do not let her read it, btw).
Her appetite for narrative and description is seemingly unquenchable and this makes our long walks to meet Ben (we take a lot of long walks to meet Ben) really diverting as she has taken to having us weave stories and create characters as we go. A few weeks ago she had us create our own saints with their various attributes.
Lastly, I want to mention a game she invented for long or delayed journeys on the Underground. You scan the Tube map and then give three station stops, two of which are actual stops, one of which is fake, and the rest of the group has to guess at which is the fake one. So, for example, I might say "Chalk Farm, West Ruislip, and East Chipping" and she and Ben would have to identify the fake one. It's amazing how often we miss (a testament to the hilariousness of some London place names: "Swiss Cottage" "Cockfosters" "Tooting Broadway" -- I rest my case.
The Butterscotch Challenge
Sometimes my mom and I,
We have a test
At who is the very best,
At keeping the butterscotch in shape,
And making sure it won't escape.
As soon as it's in, I put it in my cheek,
And try not to make a peep.
But Mom she chatters on and on
And soon her butterscotch is gone.
Isabel Schmidt
Here's what Ben emailed me after reading this post:
i thought you were nicely attentive to her literary bent ... but you missed her other side: isabel the scientist and natural philosopher (which i find, if anything, more impressive, since this comes wholly from herself, you and i [and her teachers, alas] contributing nothing by way of model or directive). the list below is partial, no doubt--i made it one day while marveling, you did, over her fecundity--but it gets at the method of the madness: to know everything in the world and to put her creative stamp on it all. so, along with narratives and history, there is (as you note) religion and language (almost as inventive, i find, and equally ambitious), nature and experiment, geography and philosophy (her endless tinkering with lists, organization), and of course drawing and craft.
in january 2011, isabel is undertaking various projects, as follows:
* nature journals, including separate books to record birds, insects, mammals/reptiles/fish, respectively
* nature/observation journal: this one is dedicated solely to plants and their various dissections
* book of lists ('listography')
* book of inventions (which also comprises art ideas)
* a 'kunstkamer' (cabinet of curiosities, to hold specimens)
* books for publication, including:
1. unlying robber
2. absent-minded professor
3. mona and delia
6 a reference book on monsters (made-up monsters)
4. thirteen boys
5. runaway boys
7. a short story submitted to stone soup
8. a non-fiction book on conservation (ideas, mostly described in terms of things not to do, to preserve nature)
9. xkin, a play about a monster who falls in love
* she is also inventing a new religion ('future gods'), which is outlined in a folder
* she is inventing a language, also outlined in a folder
* poetry: a project to encapsulate the whole universe in poems (e.g. "fruit" poems)
* poetry: "eurasian bear" (submission to stone soup)
* art folder: collection of drawings, prep-work for future paintings
she is keeping several journals:
* london blog (online)
* london journal (prose and pictures)
* london scrap book (collage)
* travel journal (cf. london journal)
how to explain it? lack of siblings? endless stimulation? in the end, none of this works as well as "wonder-child."
I've always held (and recognized) that that kind of deep, deep love and appreciation of one's offspring and their inherent specialness reflects our own narcissism (of course!). It's probably something of an evolutionary necessity, too, right?
Anyway, before I bore you with Isabel the Wonderchild's recent accomplishments, a few words about Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Yale professor Amy Chua's recent memoir about raising her two daughters with a markedly Chinese parenting style: Yes, pushing your children to excel and raising the bar for them is good. We need more of that. And I completely agree with Chua's argument that a very profound happiness can come from excelling at something, be it piano, tennis, or skateboarding (you can also have fun being mediocre at something -- just look at my sketchbook!). Where we part company are her motivational methods. I don't care how well adjusted and sweet her daughters are today (according to Emily Baselon of Slate, who has crossed paths with them in New Haven); no good can have come from being locked outside in the cold, prevented from going to the bathroom, or threatened with having one's stuffed animals burned, even if that meant daughter Sophia would end up playing Carnegie Hall.
Anyway, all of this has been written and argued about endlessly, and much more eloquently, elsewhere. Fact is, the jury's still out on the impact of feel-good vs. martinet parenting (and there's obviously a healthy in-between somewhere that most of us hope to achieve). So, onward with the qvelling about Isabel. (Nuclear Family Members: you are obligated to keep reading; the rest of you are off the hook).
Her inventive and imaginary capacity is just amazing to me. She is, no kidding, working on 7 or more book and poetry projects simultaneously. There's Luther, the Unlying Robber; Max and Patrick and their Runaway adventures in Antarctica and Cuba; The Thirteen Boys (parented by Leonard the Dentist and Pablo the House-husband); The AMP (Absent Minded Professor) whose plot takes him into different classrooms around campus and he's such a genius he's able to teach anything from Aztec religion to Physics; a collection of illustrated poetry on different kinds of weather and food groups and their foods; her blog; a written journal; and a whole theology/cosmology called "future gods" she has created as her own personal religion with deities and temples and rituals (with spices!) galore.
It's not that she's a literary genius; I mean I think her poetry and stories in general are terrific for a 9 year old but I'm biased, of course (see the one she wrote on candy at the end of this post). What's more impressive to me is the dedication with which she pursues these projects. Her work ethic is incredible. She devotes hours of each week to conceptualising and writing, and even wants to compare notes about plot and character development as the two of us walk to the National Gallery to meet Ben on a Friday evening. This is always somewhat embarrassing for me since my (for-profit-not-art) romance novel is not only progressing incredibly slowly but it's pretty formulaic and cliche-ridden, not to mention undeniably racy in parts (I do not let her read it, btw).
Her appetite for narrative and description is seemingly unquenchable and this makes our long walks to meet Ben (we take a lot of long walks to meet Ben) really diverting as she has taken to having us weave stories and create characters as we go. A few weeks ago she had us create our own saints with their various attributes.
Lastly, I want to mention a game she invented for long or delayed journeys on the Underground. You scan the Tube map and then give three station stops, two of which are actual stops, one of which is fake, and the rest of the group has to guess at which is the fake one. So, for example, I might say "Chalk Farm, West Ruislip, and East Chipping" and she and Ben would have to identify the fake one. It's amazing how often we miss (a testament to the hilariousness of some London place names: "Swiss Cottage" "Cockfosters" "Tooting Broadway" -- I rest my case.
The Butterscotch Challenge
Sometimes my mom and I,
We have a test
At who is the very best,
At keeping the butterscotch in shape,
And making sure it won't escape.
As soon as it's in, I put it in my cheek,
And try not to make a peep.
But Mom she chatters on and on
And soon her butterscotch is gone.
Isabel Schmidt
Here's what Ben emailed me after reading this post:
i thought you were nicely attentive to her literary bent ... but you missed her other side: isabel the scientist and natural philosopher (which i find, if anything, more impressive, since this comes wholly from herself, you and i [and her teachers, alas] contributing nothing by way of model or directive). the list below is partial, no doubt--i made it one day while marveling, you did, over her fecundity--but it gets at the method of the madness: to know everything in the world and to put her creative stamp on it all. so, along with narratives and history, there is (as you note) religion and language (almost as inventive, i find, and equally ambitious), nature and experiment, geography and philosophy (her endless tinkering with lists, organization), and of course drawing and craft.
in january 2011, isabel is undertaking various projects, as follows:
* nature journals, including separate books to record birds, insects, mammals/reptiles/fish, respectively
* nature/observation journal: this one is dedicated solely to plants and their various dissections
* book of lists ('listography')
* book of inventions (which also comprises art ideas)
* a 'kunstkamer' (cabinet of curiosities, to hold specimens)
* books for publication, including:
1. unlying robber
2. absent-minded professor
3. mona and delia
6 a reference book on monsters (made-up monsters)
4. thirteen boys
5. runaway boys
7. a short story submitted to stone soup
8. a non-fiction book on conservation (ideas, mostly described in terms of things not to do, to preserve nature)
9. xkin, a play about a monster who falls in love
* she is also inventing a new religion ('future gods'), which is outlined in a folder
* she is inventing a language, also outlined in a folder
* poetry: a project to encapsulate the whole universe in poems (e.g. "fruit" poems)
* poetry: "eurasian bear" (submission to stone soup)
* art folder: collection of drawings, prep-work for future paintings
she is keeping several journals:
* london blog (online)
* london journal (prose and pictures)
* london scrap book (collage)
* travel journal (cf. london journal)
phew: it exhausts me just to think of it.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
New Year's Resolution #4 -- (re)start my London blog
OK, so this was New Year's Resolution #4: "Focus more on writing projects." And since my only "writing projects" right now are this blog that I never work on and fifteen pages of a romance novel/bodice ripper that was supposed to make us some quick money this year of not working (it stalled when I bogged down in getting the historical details right for late 19th century American ranch life), the blog seems the more worthy pursuit (ya think?).
Anyone who's been following Isabel's blog a little or reading the occasional FB post from me, will know what a good time we're having in London. You don't always know you're having the experience of a lifetime while you're having the experience of a lifetime, but that's the situation here. Isabel, leaning over my shoulder, noted that I am writing about the quality of the experience without actually conveying any information about that experience. So, without further ado, I'm going to write about possibly our favorite London phenomenon: Hyde Park.
Hyde Park was originally set aside as a hunting ground for Henry VIII and successive monarchs and it still has that wild, heath-y feel in parts. But much of it, too, is given over to human activity. All three of us run regularly there. The Round Pond, Isabel's favorite place in the park, is full of all manner of water and other fowl -- swan, goose, seagull, coot, pigeon, wren -- being fed by all manner of tourist -- Portuguese, Japanese, Italian, Slovenian, you name it. The Queen's Guard in their feather crested helmets and starchy uniforms practice in the mornings on their horses in specially provided corrals and regular riders canter or walk up and down a rutted dirt track that extends the length of the park. There are about 3 different memorials to Princess Diana here, including a fountain and a playground and I can't remember what else. There is also utterly charming Kensington Palace, dating from 1605, low-slung and of faded brick -- Diana's favorite residence and permanent one once she and Charles split. Add to all this the Serpentine (river that runs through it), the Serpentine Gallery, Speakers' Corner, the Italian Garden, an outdoor exercise park for the over-65 crowd, and multiple football games on any given day and you've only touched the surface of all that goes on here.
The pictures above are from a 4 piece outdoor sculpture installation by artist Anish Kapoor. This went up in September and watching the seasons change around them and reflected in them is one of the many pleasures of Hyde Park. Now that the leaves are off the trees if you stand in one place and pivot you can see all 4 sculptures. These two pictures were taken by my friends Lisa and Matt who were visiting for the afternoon in October on their way to a vacation in the Pyrennees. We talked about blogs and narcissism that day and my reluctance to write and post because of a feeling that there is too much of this stuff out there and the pressure to be funny and diverting makes you not want to blog, etc. Obviously, this didn't deter me in the end...
I forgot to mention the Albert Memorial, a 150 foot high monument from 1876, commissioned by Queen Victoria to honor her beloved consort. You can say what you will about architectural overkill, but nothing says "I love you" like a 14 foot high gold-plated statue of your husband protected from the elements by a gaudy neo-Gothic canopy and surrounded by 187 statues representing the continents, arts, industry, sciences, etc. To Albert's credit, when he was alive apparently he stated most definitely that he did not want a monument raised to him after his death. So much for honoring your deceased's wishes.
And, last but not least:
Winter Wonderland is a fair they set up in Hyde Park every Christmas season. It has little Alpine-type stalls selling all kinds of handicrafts (and handicrap) and mulled wine and pretzels and crepes and fudge. The rides and entertainments range from the ridiculous (see us at the Fun House above and below) to the sublime (see moosehead below) to the terrifying (Isabel and Ben went on something called the Alpen Ski Jump and I just can't fathom how those of us standing below watching weren't covered with throw-up after the five death-defying minutes were over (they loved it, of course).
That's us negotiating the spinning floor in the Fun House.
And, finally, the thing that made me most happy at Winter Wonderland: the singing moose head under which Isabel is sitting in this picture. It wasn't just that the moose sang; it was that he sang a pop song I love to hate called Last Christmas, I gave you my Heart (and the very next day, you threw it away. This year, I'm makin' it clear, I'll give it to someone spe-cial...) with a heavy German accent just like "Touch my Monkey" Dieter from SNL. It's really hard to convey the delight I felt to be hearing this on a cold starry night in early January in Hyde Park in London.
 |
| Lisa and LT in front of Anish Kapoor sculpture |
Anyone who's been following Isabel's blog a little or reading the occasional FB post from me, will know what a good time we're having in London. You don't always know you're having the experience of a lifetime while you're having the experience of a lifetime, but that's the situation here. Isabel, leaning over my shoulder, noted that I am writing about the quality of the experience without actually conveying any information about that experience. So, without further ado, I'm going to write about possibly our favorite London phenomenon: Hyde Park.
 | |||||||
| Lisa and Matt (and Isabel and me) reflected in another Kapoor Sculpture |
The pictures above are from a 4 piece outdoor sculpture installation by artist Anish Kapoor. This went up in September and watching the seasons change around them and reflected in them is one of the many pleasures of Hyde Park. Now that the leaves are off the trees if you stand in one place and pivot you can see all 4 sculptures. These two pictures were taken by my friends Lisa and Matt who were visiting for the afternoon in October on their way to a vacation in the Pyrennees. We talked about blogs and narcissism that day and my reluctance to write and post because of a feeling that there is too much of this stuff out there and the pressure to be funny and diverting makes you not want to blog, etc. Obviously, this didn't deter me in the end...
I forgot to mention the Albert Memorial, a 150 foot high monument from 1876, commissioned by Queen Victoria to honor her beloved consort. You can say what you will about architectural overkill, but nothing says "I love you" like a 14 foot high gold-plated statue of your husband protected from the elements by a gaudy neo-Gothic canopy and surrounded by 187 statues representing the continents, arts, industry, sciences, etc. To Albert's credit, when he was alive apparently he stated most definitely that he did not want a monument raised to him after his death. So much for honoring your deceased's wishes.
 |
| The Albert Memorial |
And, last but not least:
WINTER WONDERLAND!!!
 |
| Lost in the Hall of Mirrors |
Winter Wonderland is a fair they set up in Hyde Park every Christmas season. It has little Alpine-type stalls selling all kinds of handicrafts (and handicrap) and mulled wine and pretzels and crepes and fudge. The rides and entertainments range from the ridiculous (see us at the Fun House above and below) to the sublime (see moosehead below) to the terrifying (Isabel and Ben went on something called the Alpen Ski Jump and I just can't fathom how those of us standing below watching weren't covered with throw-up after the five death-defying minutes were over (they loved it, of course).
 |
| Alpen Ski Jump |
That's us negotiating the spinning floor in the Fun House.
And, finally, the thing that made me most happy at Winter Wonderland: the singing moose head under which Isabel is sitting in this picture. It wasn't just that the moose sang; it was that he sang a pop song I love to hate called Last Christmas, I gave you my Heart (and the very next day, you threw it away. This year, I'm makin' it clear, I'll give it to someone spe-cial...) with a heavy German accent just like "Touch my Monkey" Dieter from SNL. It's really hard to convey the delight I felt to be hearing this on a cold starry night in early January in Hyde Park in London.
Thursday, 9 September 2010
First Days in London
London's way more intimate and smaller scale than I remember it from the last time I was here. Of course, the last time I was here I was walking around in a fog of extreme sleep deprivation/post partum depression with a three month old Isabel strapped to my front in a baby bjorn. Then, the city seemed massive, dirty, overwhelming. Now it seems so calm and clean and nonthreatening. This is not entirely to do with my state of mind, though that's part of it. It's also because we live in tony and bohemian and near everything Notting Hill as opposed to Stoke Newington, home to poor Orthodox Jews and Turkish immigrants, and three buses from the center of London, as I remember it.
I love our neighborhood. It's less glamorous and sophisticated than Chelsea and Knightsbridge, more Upper West Side or West Village than Upper East Side or Park Avenue. But, really, these comparisons are off the mark since London is so very different from New York City. Notting Hill is the most felicitous combination of white painted row houses, bending into Terraces and Crescents enfolding quiet and green private parks with benches and fences (over which Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts climbed in that forgettable movie hit of the mid-1990s); stone churches, shops ranging from news agents to plumbing supply stores to organic food emporia and impossibly hip boutiques; cobblestone mews(es)? and housing estates; and all on a scale that is smaller, less frenetic than New York, or for that matter Chicago or Boston. Is it that the streets are more narrow and the buildings less looming? I think it could be as simple as this. In NYC you get so little sky. Here, I walked to pick up Isabel at school today and passed by St. Lukes's Mews framed by a charming arch. I thought "what's the big pink and white building in the distance? It wasn't a building, it was pure, uninterrupted sky.
I love our neighborhood. It's less glamorous and sophisticated than Chelsea and Knightsbridge, more Upper West Side or West Village than Upper East Side or Park Avenue. But, really, these comparisons are off the mark since London is so very different from New York City. Notting Hill is the most felicitous combination of white painted row houses, bending into Terraces and Crescents enfolding quiet and green private parks with benches and fences (over which Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts climbed in that forgettable movie hit of the mid-1990s); stone churches, shops ranging from news agents to plumbing supply stores to organic food emporia and impossibly hip boutiques; cobblestone mews(es)? and housing estates; and all on a scale that is smaller, less frenetic than New York, or for that matter Chicago or Boston. Is it that the streets are more narrow and the buildings less looming? I think it could be as simple as this. In NYC you get so little sky. Here, I walked to pick up Isabel at school today and passed by St. Lukes's Mews framed by a charming arch. I thought "what's the big pink and white building in the distance? It wasn't a building, it was pure, uninterrupted sky.
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