A Heck Of An Introduction

After thirteen years, the St. Louis Symphony's beloved music director, David Robertson, will leave us at the end of this season. I don't know how he has kept it up this long. His home is in New York. His wife is the concert pianist Orli Shaham. They have twin sons. I saw that he is conducting Cosi Fan Tutti at the Metropolitan Opera this spring. Oh, and he is also chief conductor or the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. It has been a great pleasure to have him here.

Time passes. Our new music director, starting with the 2019-2020 season, is Frenchman Stéphane Denève. This weekend was his only guest appearance this year and we've never heard him before. O M G. He conducted a program of French music, featuring sisters Christina and Michelle Naughton, below, playing the Poulenc Concerto for Two Pianos. There arms are so fluid they looked like four octopus tentacles. Denève is a spectacular talent. We look forward to hearing much more from him.

The handsome couple below saw me taking the picture of the Naughtons on my phone at intermission. They asked me to take their picture on his phone. We are glad to have more young people in the audience.

Leave Something In The Tip Jar

Imagine Chuck Berry as a street musician, trying to hustle a few bucks on a busy sidewalk and being ignored by all the passers-by. We've seen something like this in most cities. Have you ever passed by a talented street performer, someone who really got your attention, and not left a thank you? I remember the achingly beautiful music of a young violinist in the passages above the Grand Central subway station in New York and just striding down to the platform.

Once again, in The Loop section of Delmar Boulevard in University City. I never before noticed that the whole weight of the statue rests only on the right forefoot.    

We've All Had Those Kind Of Days

You know, it's evening. it was a hard day at work, you had to deal with a lot of jerks. The fact that the country is run by villains and fools has been rubbed in your face.  And our species still appears intent on making itself extinct (have you read that Cape Town, a metro area of almost 4 million people, will totally - totally - run out of water some time in April?). Your mind and spirit feel soiled.

Wouldn't it be nice to have someplace like this? Not just for substance abuse, but for existence abuse? This was found along the Delmar Loop in University City. Don't know what they sell inside but I might be interested.      

My Award Goes To...

There were prizes awarded late in the day for the best ice sculptures. We didn't hang around that long but I had my own pick for best in show. It is hard for me to imagine the precision and skill it took to make the top part of this one. The meaning isn't completely clear but my best guess is that it is someone doing a handstand on a surfboard while something fishy watches from the bottom of the wave.

I took this picture soon after we arrived. It was a mild afternoon and by the time we we were ready to leave the arms of the top part had melted, the body falling onto the pavement. Another lesson in impermanence.  

Daniel Boone Asks For A Handout

Americans, or at least those my age, all know of the legendary frontiersman, Daniel Boone. He opened trails from Virginia and North Carolina to Kentucky and Tennessee, leading to significant migration. After major losses in land deals in Kentucky, he ended up in what is now St. Charles County, Missouri, just across the Missouri River from St. Louis County. It was Spanish territory when he arrived, then French, and became part of the United States in the massive 1804 Louisiana Purchase.

So now St. Charles makes a buck off him any way it can. The statue above was down the street from the ice carving festival. It was designed by local sculptor Harry Weber, who seems to get all of these kinds of jobs around here. He did the statue of Chuck Berry seen here earlier in the month. Boone looks like he is entreating passers-by for a little help with his Kentucky debts.        

Photo Bomb

Maybe it's happened to you. You set up a shot in a public place and, just as you are about to press the shutter, an adolescent male jumps into the picture. It's called photo bombing, a little bit of image-making vandalism. I usally give the person a "you idiot" glower and they move on. Pretty annoying but not a disaster. I'm not shooting film.

It appears that the practice has spread to four year old girls.  I was trying to take a shot of one of the better ice sculptures when Ellie decided that she should be in the frame. That's more tolerable. The ice sculpture behind her is remarkable. Notice the seams - it's made out of three slabs. No idea how you do this without the sculpture shattering.      

Icy Blast

That phrase is a weather reporter's staple here in the Midwest when bitter cold winds from the Canadian plains sweep across us. The context here is the annual ice carving festival in suburban St. Charles. We took Ellie out on Saturday for a different experience. She sat on the pavement fascinated by the work but kept her ears covered the whole time.