Death in Venice

I come home to a flyer for a forthcoming production of Britten's Death in Venice which helpfully includes a scene-by-scene synopsis. The futility of old age and lost creativity - just what I need to be reminded of!

The Life of Galileo

A sensationally good production at the National Theatre of The Life of Galileo last night - completely absorbing throughout its considerable length. Simon Russell Beale quite outstanding in the title role. I was in tears at the end, which never happens to me in the theatre.

Slightly puzzled by David Hare's essay in the programme. He says "John Dexter's revival in 1980 offered a translation which freed Brecht from the grim series of academic renderings responsible for the author's relative unpopularity in English up till then." Now when I was at school Brecht was presented as one of the greatest of all playwrights: the translations we used may have been "grim", but his importance certainly was clear. And he was widely performed: I saw Galileo in Stirling, and my early years of Edinburgh Festival Fringe-going involved a number of his plays (Mother Courage, The Caucasian Chalk Circle and The Measures Taken, at least: the last of these making a particularly strong impression on me) . Certainly there were many productions of Brecht on the Fringe in the 70s. So what was this "relative unpopularity"?

I've seen three theatrical versions of the Galileo story in the last couple of years (including Philip Glass's visually stunning opera) and have also read Tom Stoppard's screenplay. I suppose it's no surprise that this has become such a canonical story. It's ironic that a story about the value of truth has itself become more myth than history.

Breakfast time

AS I prepare my breakfast (lovely Mexican coffee, croissant, juice) while enjoying Shostakovich piano music on the radio, I look forward to the day ahead.

An exhibition? I can choose from Velasquez (National Gallery), Leonardo drawings (V&A), Holbein (Tate Britain), a much-praised show of contemporary US art (Royal Academy), and many others.

Then theatre - will need some luck here, as I stupidly didn't book in advance, but I hope to see Simon Russell Beale in The Life of Galileo at the National Theatre.

Resolution: take more advantage of the opportunities offered by this wonderful city.

Stand up for Freedom!

Amnesty International has called for bloggers to stand up for freedom and for jailed bloggers to be freed.

October, London (and Leeds)

October rose after rain

View alighting from bus this morning

Lewisham, early this evening

National Theatre, early evening

Henry Moore sculpture, Leeds City Art Gallery

Now playing - Une jeune fillette

I find this popular song of the time of the Renaissance, known also as "La Monica", extraordinarily evocative, whether in its vocal form or in any of the many instrumental arrangements I've heard. Here it is sung gorgeously by two of my favourite singers, Montserrat Figueras and Maria Cristina Kiehr, accompanied by Rolf Lislevand and Jordi Savall:

Une jeune fillette de noble coeur,
plaisante et joliette de grande valeur,
outre son gré on l'a vendue nonnette,
cela point ne luy haite,
donc vit en grand doleur.


Powered by Castpost

Leeds City Art Gallery

A famous Bonnard, hidden in a dark corner of the staircase.

A lovely leafy landscape which turned out to be an early Augustus John.

Lady Butler's "Scotland for Ever!", complemented by the sound of bagpipes from outside, which turned out, appropriately, to be recorded music for an army recruitment stand.

And a slate circle by Richard Long


which turns line into circle, one dimension into two.

[The work shown is Halifax Circle, which may or may not be the one I saw: Long has made several similar, and the slates in the photo seem less linear than the ones I saw today, but it looks very different from different angles.]

A funeral (20/10/06)

Yesterday, at a funeral in a huge church in Hackney. Heavy rain had stopped before I reached the church but when I went in it was still dark and overcast. But when, at the end of the funeral, the doors at the back of the church were thrown open, the weather had changesd and the light flooded in as the coffin was carried out from the dark church into blazing sunshine.

RIP Stevens, a good man taken from us too soon: you will be fondly remembered.

Science and Poetry

Paul Dirac to J. Robert Oppenheimer: "Oppenheimer, they tell me you are writing poetry. I do not see how a man can work on the frontiers of physics and write poetry at the same time. They are in opposition. In science you want to say something that nobody knew before, in words which everyone can understand. In poetry you are bound to say something that everybody knows already, in words that nobody can understand."

Bach-Bukowski

Powered by Castpost

Well, here's the track from Bach-Bukowski by Willem van Ekeren which I referred to a couple of days ago. Not sure how well this one stands up to repeated listening (indeed perhaps it's not the best track on the CD: it's the poem I liked best, however).

Smokiness (again)

Powered by Castpost

In response to a request from someone who doesn't follow her own advice, here's Solage's chanson Fumeux fume performed by Alla Francesca:

Fumeux fume par fumee,
Fumeuse speculacion.
Qu'autre fummet sa pensee,
Fumeux fume par fumee.
Quar fumer molt li agree
Tant qu'il ait son entencion.
Fumeux fume par fumee,
Fumeuse speculacion.

Six months on

I started this blog six months ago (14th April). So perhaps a good time to reflect.

I began with a rather negative quotation: "Sen vord is thrall and thocht is fre / Keip veill thy tonge I coinsell the." And although I'm sure this blog is revealing in all sorts of ways that I'm not aware of, I know that my reluctance to reveal any personal secrets shows that I'm not a real blogista.

Who am I writing for? I know who a few of my readers are (even if they don't make comments). I do find that I am very reluctant to tell people about the blog - again my natural reticence - so I guess I'm not really writing for an audience. With significant exceptions, I don't generally have a particular reader in mind. Am I writing for myself? In a sense, definitely, but in ways I haven't fully thought through.

Resolutions - make sure I keep the blog up, try to be more personal, and perhaps a little less lazy in some of my less inspired posts.

Now playing - Bach-Bukowski

The Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see you.

there's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him
and inhale cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that he's in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,stay down,
do you want to mess me up?
you want to screw up the works?
you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart
that wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let
him out at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little in there,
I haven't quite let him die
and we sleep together like that
with our secret pact
and it's nice enough to make a man weep,
but I don't weep,

do you?

**********

This CD is weird: preludes and fugues from Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier accompanying poems by Charles Bukowski: the pianist and singer is Willem van Ekeren. I'd never have thought the words and music would go together, but they do (sort of).

Bukowski was one of the writers I discovered through Bernard Levin's column in The Times, which I read as a schoolboy and undergraduate. Strange again: even then I disliked Levin's politics, and read his column to disagree with it, but on literary matters our taste seemed very similar. Through him I discovered Bukowski, and A.S.J. Tessimond, and others: he also wrote about authors who were already favourites (I remember his enthusiasm for William Friedman's book about the Shakespearean ciphers, which I had recently found for myself). Bukowski is a writer I don't read often but who has come into my life by chance at different times (Levin's article, a tape I came across in an art gallery, now this CD) and he always seems authentic.

The infinite rage of fishes to have wings

Two exhibitions at the Royal Academy.

Modigliani - familiarity does not dilute how much I like his paintings.

Rodin - different. A huge exhibition. I feel indifferent to most of the sculptures, but love the photographs of these same works in the studio (and indeed the postcard reproductions). The forms seem easier for me to comprehend in two dimensions rather than three. So I'm certainly missing the point!

Three days in Italy

Leaving London musing sadly that La Colomba knew more about my own city than I did.

Delayed flight, no vegetarian food, late arrival in Rome.

Reading Petrarch in Rome - "Era il giorno ch'al sol si scoloraro / per la pietà del suo Fattore i rai, / quando i' fui preso, e non me ne guardai, / ché i be' vostr'occhi, donna, mi legaro."

Italian landscape from coach to Urbino.

Steepness of Urbino. Narrow streets. The Ducal Palace.

The Pieros - the Flagellation, the Madonna di Senigallia.

The remarkable Studioso - a tiny room with trompe l'oeil intarsa (inlaid wood) representing cupboards of lutes, scientific instruments, books.

The delicious beans at every meal (and the wine).

The early morning journey to Rome through misty mountains.

The splendour of Santa Maria Maggiore.

The Colosseum and Forum, impressive despite the crowds.

The swift flight home, and long delays at Gatwick.

Sunday evening sunshine

Snapped while walking to the bus stop on my way to an exceptional organ recital by Clive Driskill-Smith on a wonderful new organ. A lovely evening finished in contrasting style with Noel Rawsthorne's outrageous Hornpipe Humoresque (combining lots of familiar tunes with the hornpipe) and then, what our host described as the greatest music ever written, Bach's Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor.

Scotland 1 France 0

Our greatest result for years, and Cammy fae Shanghai captured the celebrations as Scotland scored.

Now playing - smoky speculation

Fumeux fume par fumee,
Fumeuse speculacion.
Qu'autre fummet sa pensee,
Fumeux fume par fumee.
Quar fumer molt li agree
Tant qu'il ait son entencion.
Fumeux fume par fumee,
Fumeuse speculacion.

Solage (fl. 1380s)

This wonderful setting for very low voices, sung on this favourite CD of mine by Alla Francesca, seems (judging by the notes to the CD) to be a fourteenth-century equivalent of Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience, referring to a Parisian literary group, the Fumeux.

And for something totally non-smoky, a photo from my journey home tonight.

London weather

The rain it raineth every day
Upon the just and unjust fella.
But more upon the just, because
The unjust has the just's umbrella.

(Quoted from memory: Lord Bowen is mentioned as author on some web sites but there are other attributions)