On Monday, I went to a jazz event with Nana and one of her "millionaire friends" (in quotations because that's how Nana described her and not because she's not a millionaire, because she definitely is) Judith Terra. Naturally I showed up late because I forgot to bring the address with me so I was driving around the general area for about 15 minutes before Nana graciously called me and told me where to get to. We were going to this event because Nana and Judith's friend, Lee Brian, is in charge of this UDC thing. Nana and Judith made it very clear to me that they had no interest in going but that they were doing it for Lee Brian. Judith basically reminds me of an aging 50s film star would be like today, with her giant rectangular emerald (? maybe not but they were green and large and definitely expensive) earrings and her diamond (again, most likely diamond) choker, smoothed back jet black hair, high cheekbones, and the way she talks as though she's been trained. Almost Judy Garland-like. Elizabeth Taylor maybe? Anyway, we showed up and Lee Brian strolled on up to the car and Judith said, "Where do you want me to park, boo?"
Lee Brian charmed them for a bit with both women laughing uproariously before he parked the car. We all went inside, and I pick up a cookie because why not? and so many people came up to Nana to say, "There's my favorite mother" and things of that ilk. I never really realized before that night just how beloved she is here. I mean, I love her, obviousry, but I didn't know that everyone else does too! Nana networked for me a bit and then we went into our reserved seats while Judith was at work on something in the lobby. We were just sitting down when Nana leaned over to me to say, "Lee Brian is always telling me he's in love with me, but that man is gay as a plate." Gay as a plate? Never heard of it. But maybe I misheard. Then some more people came to sit down and they were elated to see Nana, so Nana had me switch seats with her so that they could sit together.
When the program started, Judith gave the opening address since she's the Chair for the DC Arts Commission. She then came to sit down and the music got going. It was a bit strange to be at this University Jazz concert considering I couldn't conceive of any of the people onstage as being younger than I am. As the program continued, Nana and Judith grew restless. Nana said even though she used to go to jazz shows with Papa back in the day, she never liked it. That was until a song came on to which Nana knew the words--that's when she started singing along a bit. During the next song, though, I guess they'd had enough because Judith said it was time to go, so the three of us in the third row got up. And I don't know if you know this about 85 year old women, but their getting out of chairs times aren't that fast, so it felt as though we were leaving the row for ages and then crawling up the aisle to the exit. I don't mean that as a "speed up, granny!" thing. I mean it in a "we could have at least waited until the end of the song to leave" thing. Especially since that number ended up being their last one. Nana insisted that the only reason the performers ended the concert then was because we had gotten up and they were getting carried away as jazz performers are wont to do.
After shmoozing, we made it back to the car. Lee Brian hopped in and whispered to me that they wouldn't even notice he was there. And he was nearly right. We drove around the corner and then chatted with him for about 15 minutes in the street. They were all gossiping about some woman who has taken to wearing terrible hats to functions and how it's all caused by her stylist. Apparently, though, she's a beautiful woman, she just doesn't know how to dress herself. I guess she wore some dress last year that had this massive flower that she had to keep folding down so that she could speak.
On the ride back, it was funny to hear Judith and Nana kind of competing over their jazz in speakeasy stories. I think Nana won out because she's just a bit more forceful and will speak louder, but Judith's tales from Greenwich Village would probably have won over the sheer glamour of it all. But this is all speculative since we never heard the stories.
On Tuesday, I met up with some Wash U chums to see a friend perform his poetry at a place called Poets and Busboys, a restaurant/bookstore created in homage to Langston Hughes who used to live in DC and was discovered while serving some newspaper hotshot. When Hughes heard that the man was from a newspaper, he slipped some of his own poetry into the newspaper for the guy. The rest is what you call history.
So the last time I decided to drive somewhere, it took me twice as long as Google said it would. So when Google said that it would take me 20 minutes to get to Busboys and Poets, I thought I was super clever to leave at 6:15. I'd show the internet, and I'd get there perfectly on time. Well, except this time Googles was right, and I arrived around 6:30, but wasn't to meet with my friends for dinner until 7. So I just sat in the car until it was near the hour. Pathetic, I know, but I didn't realize there was a bookstore inside! Otherwise, I'd have loitered inside. So when the time came, I perused the bookstore until Kim and Shana showed up. Did you know that there is a children's book about Bob Marley? And there was also a book of conversations with Alice Walker. It was sad to look in the index and see no mention of her daughter, Rebecca, aka my favorite author. Not surprising considering she told Rebecca that being mother was "a role she had grown tired of," but still!
We were seated in the room where the poetry was to be happening, which usually would mean that we'd have to leave our seats to line up outside before the show happened, but our waiter was dabomb and let us stay in our seats. When the doors did open up to the poetry seekers, it was like a Wash U invasion. So many people that I didn't even know were in the city were there. A mini reunion that was unexpected but glorious quand-même.
The whole thing reminded me of this thing I used to go to at Fairfax High School called Da Poetry Lounge, but more organized and in a nicer space. Anyway, my friend (Aaron Samuels <-videos!) was the featured artist, so we had to wait until the middle to see him. The performers there were first timers, weekly appearances, and everything. Good overall, but Aaron was definitely the best. And that is possibly my opinion because I have been watching WUSlam perform since my sophomore year, so maybe I've been conditioned.
Yesterday I got off my toosh and went to The Phillips Collection to see a Degas exhibit. I accidentally got off at Adams Morgan on the metro at first and then, 1/4 of the way up the escalator, realized that I was supposed to get off at Dupont Circle. Lucky for me, this was one of those obscenely long escalators like at Angel Station in London (which I've never actually been too, but whenever there are public works in tube stations in London, you get to learn facts like that Angel station has the longest escalator in London). So I got a nice workout going up to come down.
Eventually, I arrived. The woman/girl at the desk said I could get a discount if I was a student. When I showed her my King's ID (expired since December 2008) she gave me the side eye, but said "okay" anyway. The Phillips Collection is kind of like the Barnes Museum in Philadelphia except not as great only because at the Barnes, they have furniture and stuff that echoes themes in the paintings. The Phillips Collection is just in a house. That is the only real similarity. But The Phillips Collection does have an app that you can download on your phone, which is kind of awesome because you don't have to pay for an audio guide or anything. So I downloaded it and was then disappointed to discover that there were only 5 stops on the special exhibit tour. And the stops didn't really offer any analysis of the paintings. Could have done better on that end, but I still thought it was an innovative use of technology. It was a lovely exhibit, even though it was about 5 rooms. It really drew the connection between Degas's methodology and that of a dancer's in terms of repetition and study.
After, I wandered about the rest of the museum. Lucky for me there was a Rothko room. So, apparently Rothko wanted his paintings to be shown in a normal sized room so that you'd really be taken away by what was happening in the images. Duncan Phillips loved the guy's work, so he was the first person to dedicate a public space to Rothko's works--one on each of the four walls. (Not surprisingly, Rothko claimed The Phillips Collection was his favorite museum.) So I sat in the room for a while trying to figure it out, and I think I might have made some headway. Also, this room was kind of intense considering walkthroughs are prohibited. Legitimately. There's a sign.
My favorite part, though, was in the original home in the music room where Vincent Tack took over. He made a bunch of panels for the room, and the setting is gorgeous as well. I couldn't tell what the photography policy was, so I didn't take any. (And, when I got back to Madeleine's and saw my camera sitting by the door, I was glad I hadn't decided to take any.) But here's a photo from this website that kind of walks you through the space.
After the music room, I really enjoyed The Migration Series and response photography. The Migration Series is a series of paintings by Jacob Lawrence about the migration of Blacks north in the 1930s with short text bits acting as narration. He painted all 60 panels at once, using the same paint mixture at each point so that the colors would be the same. Does that make sense? Like, say he was going to use indigo in 27 of the paintings; he'd paint the indigo parts at the same moment in time so that it would be the exact same color in all 27. The response photographs are from recent times and taken all over the world by Allen DeSouza called The World Series. The photos could be read as a single journey, since it starts at an airport and ends at a train station. It was definitely a series that has to be read all at once to get the full meaning. Come visit me and see!
It's supposed to snow tonight.
Ice box where my feet used to be,
Jess
Lee Brian charmed them for a bit with both women laughing uproariously before he parked the car. We all went inside, and I pick up a cookie because why not? and so many people came up to Nana to say, "There's my favorite mother" and things of that ilk. I never really realized before that night just how beloved she is here. I mean, I love her, obviousry, but I didn't know that everyone else does too! Nana networked for me a bit and then we went into our reserved seats while Judith was at work on something in the lobby. We were just sitting down when Nana leaned over to me to say, "Lee Brian is always telling me he's in love with me, but that man is gay as a plate." Gay as a plate? Never heard of it. But maybe I misheard. Then some more people came to sit down and they were elated to see Nana, so Nana had me switch seats with her so that they could sit together.
When the program started, Judith gave the opening address since she's the Chair for the DC Arts Commission. She then came to sit down and the music got going. It was a bit strange to be at this University Jazz concert considering I couldn't conceive of any of the people onstage as being younger than I am. As the program continued, Nana and Judith grew restless. Nana said even though she used to go to jazz shows with Papa back in the day, she never liked it. That was until a song came on to which Nana knew the words--that's when she started singing along a bit. During the next song, though, I guess they'd had enough because Judith said it was time to go, so the three of us in the third row got up. And I don't know if you know this about 85 year old women, but their getting out of chairs times aren't that fast, so it felt as though we were leaving the row for ages and then crawling up the aisle to the exit. I don't mean that as a "speed up, granny!" thing. I mean it in a "we could have at least waited until the end of the song to leave" thing. Especially since that number ended up being their last one. Nana insisted that the only reason the performers ended the concert then was because we had gotten up and they were getting carried away as jazz performers are wont to do.
After shmoozing, we made it back to the car. Lee Brian hopped in and whispered to me that they wouldn't even notice he was there. And he was nearly right. We drove around the corner and then chatted with him for about 15 minutes in the street. They were all gossiping about some woman who has taken to wearing terrible hats to functions and how it's all caused by her stylist. Apparently, though, she's a beautiful woman, she just doesn't know how to dress herself. I guess she wore some dress last year that had this massive flower that she had to keep folding down so that she could speak.On the ride back, it was funny to hear Judith and Nana kind of competing over their jazz in speakeasy stories. I think Nana won out because she's just a bit more forceful and will speak louder, but Judith's tales from Greenwich Village would probably have won over the sheer glamour of it all. But this is all speculative since we never heard the stories.
On Tuesday, I met up with some Wash U chums to see a friend perform his poetry at a place called Poets and Busboys, a restaurant/bookstore created in homage to Langston Hughes who used to live in DC and was discovered while serving some newspaper hotshot. When Hughes heard that the man was from a newspaper, he slipped some of his own poetry into the newspaper for the guy. The rest is what you call history.
So the last time I decided to drive somewhere, it took me twice as long as Google said it would. So when Google said that it would take me 20 minutes to get to Busboys and Poets, I thought I was super clever to leave at 6:15. I'd show the internet, and I'd get there perfectly on time. Well, except this time Googles was right, and I arrived around 6:30, but wasn't to meet with my friends for dinner until 7. So I just sat in the car until it was near the hour. Pathetic, I know, but I didn't realize there was a bookstore inside! Otherwise, I'd have loitered inside. So when the time came, I perused the bookstore until Kim and Shana showed up. Did you know that there is a children's book about Bob Marley? And there was also a book of conversations with Alice Walker. It was sad to look in the index and see no mention of her daughter, Rebecca, aka my favorite author. Not surprising considering she told Rebecca that being mother was "a role she had grown tired of," but still!
We were seated in the room where the poetry was to be happening, which usually would mean that we'd have to leave our seats to line up outside before the show happened, but our waiter was dabomb and let us stay in our seats. When the doors did open up to the poetry seekers, it was like a Wash U invasion. So many people that I didn't even know were in the city were there. A mini reunion that was unexpected but glorious quand-même.
The whole thing reminded me of this thing I used to go to at Fairfax High School called Da Poetry Lounge, but more organized and in a nicer space. Anyway, my friend (Aaron Samuels <-videos!) was the featured artist, so we had to wait until the middle to see him. The performers there were first timers, weekly appearances, and everything. Good overall, but Aaron was definitely the best. And that is possibly my opinion because I have been watching WUSlam perform since my sophomore year, so maybe I've been conditioned.
Yesterday I got off my toosh and went to The Phillips Collection to see a Degas exhibit. I accidentally got off at Adams Morgan on the metro at first and then, 1/4 of the way up the escalator, realized that I was supposed to get off at Dupont Circle. Lucky for me, this was one of those obscenely long escalators like at Angel Station in London (which I've never actually been too, but whenever there are public works in tube stations in London, you get to learn facts like that Angel station has the longest escalator in London). So I got a nice workout going up to come down.
After, I wandered about the rest of the museum. Lucky for me there was a Rothko room. So, apparently Rothko wanted his paintings to be shown in a normal sized room so that you'd really be taken away by what was happening in the images. Duncan Phillips loved the guy's work, so he was the first person to dedicate a public space to Rothko's works--one on each of the four walls. (Not surprisingly, Rothko claimed The Phillips Collection was his favorite museum.) So I sat in the room for a while trying to figure it out, and I think I might have made some headway. Also, this room was kind of intense considering walkthroughs are prohibited. Legitimately. There's a sign.
My favorite part, though, was in the original home in the music room where Vincent Tack took over. He made a bunch of panels for the room, and the setting is gorgeous as well. I couldn't tell what the photography policy was, so I didn't take any. (And, when I got back to Madeleine's and saw my camera sitting by the door, I was glad I hadn't decided to take any.) But here's a photo from this website that kind of walks you through the space.
After the music room, I really enjoyed The Migration Series and response photography. The Migration Series is a series of paintings by Jacob Lawrence about the migration of Blacks north in the 1930s with short text bits acting as narration. He painted all 60 panels at once, using the same paint mixture at each point so that the colors would be the same. Does that make sense? Like, say he was going to use indigo in 27 of the paintings; he'd paint the indigo parts at the same moment in time so that it would be the exact same color in all 27. The response photographs are from recent times and taken all over the world by Allen DeSouza called The World Series. The photos could be read as a single journey, since it starts at an airport and ends at a train station. It was definitely a series that has to be read all at once to get the full meaning. Come visit me and see!
It's supposed to snow tonight.
Ice box where my feet used to be,
Jess
you know more than me about art...and everything. STOP.
ReplyDeletelove,
lillian