This Wednesday Neil Gaiman curated an evening of magical realism called "The World of Marvelous Stories" at the Upper West Side's Symphony Space. "Magical realism," he began, was often defined as "stories written by people in Argentina," and conceded it is one of those things where you know it when you see it. He described its effect as looking across a room at a strange and unfamiliar figure, only to realize suddenly you are looking at yourself in a mirror.
The event kicked off with a story called "A Life in Fictions," written by one of Gaiman's former Clarion students named Kat Howard who happened to be lurking in the audience and was promptly outed. This was read by Marin Ireland. Gaiman tackled his own story "The Troll Bridge," a modern update of the Three Billy Goats Gruff folktale. Also on the program were Jorge Luis Borges' mesmerizing "The Circular Ruins," read by Boyd Gaines, and, to conclude the evening, Gaiman's "The Thing About Cassandra," performed by Josh Hamilton with Marin Ireland returning for a dramatic cameo.
Neil Gaiman was charming and affable, and from my balcony vantage looked like a somewhat ghoulish version of Harpo Marx. "He's so talented," I heard the woman behind me gush before the show. He indeed turned out to be the ideal narrator for his own tale, voicing his troll with more vulnerability than one might expect from a matted, salivating creature who lives under a bridge. The audience clung to his every word and I was amazed by how few cellphone glows were visible across the darkened theater seats as he spoke. After the program ended half the population of Manhattan lined up to have their books graciously autographed by the man himself. I stuck around long enough to watch him approached bashfully by the little girl in pink who headed the line.
The evening was recorded and will undoubtedly soon turn up on the Selected Shorts website. Worth a listen.
29 April 2011
Marvelous Stories
28 March 2011
25 March 2011
19 March 2011
Oyster Bay
Across the way from Sea Cliff lies the sleepy hamlet of Oyster Bay. Though known as the summer residence of Theodore Roosevelt, it was also the childhood home of the writer Thomas Pynchon and likely inspired the setting of his short story "The Secret Integration." Other notable figures associated with the area include Captain Kidd, Typhoid Mary, and Robert Townsend of the Revolutionary War-era Culper Spy Ring.
Moore's Building on a downtown intersection. Originally a humble grocery store, later the location of Roosevelt's Summer Executive Offices.
Snouder's Drug Store, for decades the location of the town social center, aka soda fountain.
Oyster Bay Harbor.
The Raynham Museum, originally known as the Townsend Homestead where the Culper Spy Ring allegedly thwarted Benedict Arnold's plot to surrender West Point to the British.
The Derby-Hall Bandstand. The base of the civil war cannon was fashioned from scrap metal taken from the USS Maine, the sinking of which led to the Spanish-American War, a subject close to Roosevelt's heart.
A house across the harbor on Centre Island, as viewed from the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Park.
Moments after I snapped this photo a seagull dropped an oyster from a great height which smashed against the pavement close enough to pelt my pantleg with shrapnel. The winged perpetrator acted like it was just a standard technique for getting the food out, but I saw the cold-blooded glint of murder in his eyes. He was hunting bigger game than oysters.
Cove Neck in the distance.
The Theodore Roosevelt Monument Assemblage. Each rock represents a chapter in his life. There were a lot of chapters.
18 March 2011
Sea Cliff
Sea Cliff is a small picturesque village perched atop a bluff on the north shore (or "Gold Coast") of Long Island. It lies just over an hour's trainride from Manhattan. Architecture ranges from Victorian and Queen Anne to Carpenter Gothic styles. There's even a Frank Lloyd Wright hidden somewhere in the midst. Quiet and sleepy, at least in late winter, the place veritably reeks of arts and crafts.
This wasn't the first thing I spotted as I strolled into town, but I figured it deserved top billing.
I think this qualifies as a typical "painted ladies" style of architecture.
An irksome hedge.
All centers of town should be indicated by an old clock.
Hempstead Harbor.
The original wooden staircase which led down to the boardwalk was destroyed by a hurricane in 1944. The town finally got around to replacing it in 2007.
This witch tree will strangle that house one day, if the power lines don't get to it first.
At just about this spot some dude pulled up in his car and asked if I wanted a ride. I couldn't tell if he was being neighborly or creepy, but a solid Brooklyn glare took care of the situation.
This house is for sale if you're in the market. A woman indicated no sign of leaving the porch any time soon, so I stood where a tree blocked her out. Crafty, no?
The main entrance to Sea Cliff is admittedly a little impractical.
No shortage of winding roads.
When Teddy Roosevelt died in 1909 he was entombed in this tree.
The Gate to Nevermore.
Ye olde train station.
04 March 2011
The Significant Otter
What distinguishes the 14th Street/Eighth Avenue subway station in Manhattan from all the others is the whimsical bronze sculptures of Tom Otterness, peaking out from strange corners to amuse the commuters. Titled "Life Underground," the 2001 installation was inspired in part by the 19th century caricatures of Thomas Nast published in Harper's Weekly. To me they've always suggested an amalgamation of the troublesome brooms from Disney's Sorcerer's Apprentice, Gyro Gearloose's lightbulb-headed helper, and Rich Uncle Pennybags from the Monopoly board game.
Recent Listening
Here are the recent albums that, according to Last.fm, compel me to keep hitting repeat.
PJ Harvey: Let England Shake
Darkly-bruised folk battle hymns. Her first album to really grab me since Stories from the City.
Radiohead: The King of Limbs
Lulling and hypnotic.
Sufjan Stevens: The Age of Adz
A concept album in which I have no idea what the concept is. Something vaguely apocalyptical, I figure, with all its mentions of volcanoes and ghosts. The arrangements remind me of an electronic wizard version of the controlled chaos orchestrated by Van Dyke Parks for Joanna Newsom's Ys album.
Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
I'm not qualified to speak for his emcee skills, but production-wise the dude knows his business behind a mixing console.
Arcade Fire: The Suburbs
You've probably never heard of them.
20 February 2011
Torn and Forlorn
Alas, this unfortunate young cub was found lying on the mean streets of Brooklyn, his face mauled by wolves. By the time I reached his side it was already too late for anything but last rites.
18 February 2011
Dada at the MOMA
I swung by the Museum of Modern Art this morning to catch up on the latest exhibitions, notably Abstract Expressionist New York and Weimar Cinema, 1919–1933: Daydreams and Nightmares. Here are a few snapshots of what I encountered.
The Abstract Expressionism exhibit, thataway.
"Gothic," a lesser-known Jackson Pollock.
One really must experience "One: Number 31, 1950" in person to understand the visceral assault of Pollock's atomic-powered technique. Replication does not do it justice.
Sorry, I just don't get you, Mark Rothko. I faintly recall painting a blurry television set just like this one in grade school.
Matthew Barney's attention-getting "Cremaster 3: Gary Gilmore."
Rousseau's "The Sleeping Gypsy" has always been a favorite. Placid and haunting.
Alexander Caulder and his patrons.
Daydreams & Nightmares of the Weimar Republic, kicking things off with Peter Lorre's disembodied hand.
Nosferatu emerges.
No Man's Land. Haven't seen this one, but looks like a predecessor to The Grand Illusion or All Quiet on the Western Front.
The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, a film I never tire of.
Das Alte Gesetz (The Ancient Law).
Mother Krause's Journey to Happiness and Faust.
Curtain call.