Fashion Show

Part water and part glass. One of the Garden of Glass artworks outside of the Climatron. The ephemeral figures appear to be walking down a fashion show runway into a riot of wet color.          

Glass After Glass

A bit more from the Garden of Glass show at the botanical garden. The technical skill is amazing. There may be a metaphor here: these look so soft and tender and yet they are so brittle.  

Philip Glass

Last night at the American premier of Philip Glass' opera The Trial, based on Franz Kafka's discomfiting novel. At a reception after the performance, the composer was flanked by Opera Theatre of St. Louis' General Director, Timothy O'Leary, and librettist Cristopher Hampton. Not the greatest picture but I was using my little Olympus under a tent with ordinary light bulbs. 

Glass is something of a hero to me. I wrote recently about encountering the early Stravinsky ballets. A few years later, I read about Glass and heard Music In Fifths, Music In Changing Parts, North Star and the Dances. It smashed my concept of what music could be as throughly as did The Rite of Spring. Then Mrs. C and I attended the performances of Einstein On The Beach and The Photographer at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. And then the trilogy of movies with Godfrey Reggio, the searing Koyanaasqatsi, Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi. And others operas, including Akhenaten, about the ancient Egyptian monothesist, and Satyagraha,  set in the time the young Gandhi lived in South Africa. It's a minority opinion, but I think the latter is the greatest opera of the 20th Century.

So it was a pleasure to hear his newer work and to see him again. He recently turned 80 and looked a little frail. I hope he keeps writing and writing.

First Ascent

Our fearless explorer looks out from her perch far above the Mississippi. Madeleine had a great time on her  first trip to the top of the Arch, accompanied by mom Emily and me. Not a bit of anxiety about the height or the cramped little cars you ride to get to the top. She was interested in everything except sitting still.

Also Lambie's first ride to the top. Thanks, Aunt Virginia!     

The Firebird

Memories: when I was an undergraduate I would cruise the sale bins at record stores (Record stores! Philip Glass, who I will sort of meet again tomorrow night, was the son of a record store owner in Baltimore. We bought and played LPs then! L'ancien régime.) looking for new musical experiences. I remember buying a box set of the three early Stravinsky ballets. The Firebird was accessible yet invigorating. Petroushka was a stretch. The Rite of Spring was impenetrable, not the pinnacle of art I hear it as today. 

The association came from a work in the summer show at the Missouri Botannical Garden, Garden of Glass. (Mulit-level, no?) It features the work of artist James Mitchell Smith, mostly on display in the Climatron, mentioned in Tuesday's post. It is best seen illuminated by colored lights at night as here. Unlike a lot of art glass, the pieces are fused, not blown. How else could these feathers be created?

All contemporary art glass is inevitably compared to the work of Dale Chihuly. Several pieces of his work are scattered around the garden on permanent display. Once, while chatting with an artist friend, the subject of Chihuly came up. I asked the artist's opinion. "Too easy," he answered. I get it.

Big weekend on tap. We're taking Madeleine on her first trip up the Arch this afternoon. Tomorrow night Opera Theatre of St. Louis presents the American premier of Philip Glass' opera The Trial, based on the Kafka novel. The composer will be in attendance and there is an open reception afterward. I'm planning on bringing a small camera. 

Black Masons

Every educated American knows that, since Reconstruction, African American people have been barred from many white social organizations. So, in many cases, they formed their own. Masonic lodges lave a long history in Europe and the Americas. African American Lodges are sometimes known as the Black Masons. They always take part  in the Annie Malone parade.

I enjoy seeing them. They are so elegant and perfectly tailored. The  ladies in the second picture do what some call the Windsor wave, the way Queen Elazabeth holds her arm and hand up and just rotates it at the wrist.

Late post today. I wish life would leave me alone a little more.     

City Daily Photo June Theme Day: Nature

I'm mostly an urban street photographer. A trip into the archives was required to come up with something for this theme day.

This may be the single photo I'm most proud of. It was certainly the most difficult - Mt. Everest on a rare clear day. Long way to go for starters. We were travelling in Tibet with a small group, accompanied by English and Tibetan guides. There was a night at base camp, accessible by a very rough road. The shot was taken at 17,200 feet / 5,242 meters. I had pretty bad altitude sickness. Two men in the group had to grab me under the arms and pull me up the last little hill to the overlook. It was worth every effort.

Maybe there is something to the fact that Ansel Adams and I share a birthday. (Well, Kurt Cobain, too.) Okay, that's an exaggeration. Other than this shot not much has rubbed off.