Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Upon seeing The Twenty-Seventh Man at The Public



“Hm, that sounds like my kind of play,” I thought* immediately after reading a flattering review of Nathan Englander’s The Twenty-Seventh Man at The Public Theater. I think I may have even said this out loud to my roommates … or, at least, to the room. And I knew then that I would go see it, considering that I’m in a show-seeing mode (and that I could possibly get a ticket for relatively cheap.)

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

A Two-hour Tour: the Steinway Factory



Ah, Queens ...
Coming across a blurb in magazine, I remembered that ever since I moved to the New York area I have wanted to visit the Steinway & Sons piano factory. An odd aspiration, I know, yet ever since seeing a television program on the inner-workings of the factory, I thought it would be a cool place to see in person. Actually, this interest in Steinway’s originates from the summer I worked the William Kappell International Piano Competition back in 2007 at the University of Maryland. For two-weeks, as a member of the student stage crew of the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, I worked rehearsals, recitals (by the likes of Philip Glass and Ahmad Jamal), and concerts--even the final night of completion. Throughout, we were immersed in piano music and inundated with pianos—including those from Kawai, Yamaha, and of course, Steinway. We weren’t piano-movers (c’mon those guys are huge) but on a daily basis we would run the pianos in and out of concert halls and recital spaces throughout the facility. And, since each participant selected a different piano to use for the competition, we would even do grand piano swaps in front of the audience—when smooth transitions are a must. So, while not being a musician I don’t look at a Steinway piano as a top-of-the-line instrument from which to produce remarkable sounds, I instead view it as an immense yet delicate machine—the production of which must be a great story.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Seen and Heard in New York: a Weekly Round-Up



While I may not be terribly productive outside my working hours, I do frequently use this time to enjoy the greatest hub of art, culture, and entertainment (and cuisine, finance, innovation, design, etc.) that is New York. (However, you will rarely see a silent movie with organ accompaniment there—Jersey City has dibs on that.) In the past week or so, I have been incredibly lucky to have watched a college basketball game, listened to a concert, and see two (or four, rather) plays. Frankly, I’m as astonished as you, dear reader, that I could fit this all within my week (and budget). But the cost of living here includes access to such opportunities. And if you don’t take advantage of this proximity, then you might as well live somewhere else--you know, somewhere cheaper and less exciting, like Philly.

Monday, September 17, 2012

"this mighty scourge" ... 150 years later

Today is not only Rosh Hashanah (and beginning of the year 5773), but also the 150th anniversary of the American Civil War's Battle of Antietam. While growing up in central Pennsylvania, I became a child Civil War-buff though visits to Gettysburg battlefield, reading Michael Shaara's The Killer Angels, and repeatedly watching the Ken Burns' The Civil War documentary as well as the films Glory and Gettysburg. My friends and I would plan and enact ongoing battles at recess; for Halloween I dressed up as a soldier three times; and I even had birthday "parties" at both Gettysburg and Antietam battlefields. Needless to say, I was a strange kid. So strange that this fascination even continued into college. Combining creative and research elements, I developed a project on Civil War battlefields using my own photography and historical accounts of those battles from the soldiers themselves. It turned out well, and you can check it out here:
https://acrobat.com/#d=Va6UaB8AhJ3GhL6o*gYnPw

Later I wrote a thesis on the experience of the war in southern Pennsylvania, featuring the first U.S. draft, local politics, and two invasions by Confederate forces. It turned out less-well, and I will spare you from this academic travesty. After that experience, I essentially purged the Civil War from my interests. It may yet again play a small role in future projects, but in the last four years I have only read one book on this subject. (However, it was a very good one that combined social and military history while attempting convey to a modern reader the unprecedented scale of death and destruction the American people had enacted upon themselves, and how society dealt with it. If you're going to read a book on the Civil War not called The Battle Cry of Freedom, I would recommend This Republic of Suffering.) And since it is the sesquicentennial of this war, the New York Times has been doing a weekly series on its events, characters, and lingering impact. Today's entry is on Antietam, of course.

I'm not entirely sure why I felt compelled to write this post. Probably because I haven't posted anything in over a month; not that nothing was going on then ... but blog-writing just didn't fit. Maybe it will from now on.  

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

We Dodged a Depression, But Not the Dustbowl

After a vacation, I caught up with two of my primary news sources, the New York Times and The Economist. In the past weeks both have featured articles on a growing issue in America of which I was totally unaware--the severity, extent, and ramifications of the 2012 drought. Initially, I came across this article in The Economist, with its alarming graphic and data. Concerning reports released from the National Weather Service (NWS), United States Drought Reporter, and National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) also prompted extended coverage in the Times. After the initial piece on July 19, further articles addressed the extent to which the drought could affect American food prices, infrastructure, and energy grid. The paper also ran an op-ed piece by Michael E. Webber, an assistant professor of mechanical engineering and the associate director of the Center for International Energy and Environmental Policy at the University of Texas, Austin. While the inclusion of the above links suggests that I recommend you read them (since they also have statistics and maps and photos and stuff like that), I'll also try to provide a brief synopsis of the situation (which will help me grasp the issue better as well.)

Thursday, July 5, 2012

How about fish tacos why not?

Since I can't get to Baja, SoCal, or even Rockaway Beach regularly ... and seeing as we had some fresh radishes in the garden ... and I just so happened to be strolling by the Mexican grocery shops of Sunset Park ... I felt it time to try my hand at fish tacos with a side of fried cactus.

After a couple hours of sweating and swearing in the kitchen, or what other people call "cooking," I had produced a blog-worthy meal. Here's the decently-photographed evidence:



nopales

slices

fried cactus

fish fry

dos tacos

For those interested in cooking up something similar, here are some sources I consulted:

~ Fried vegetable batter: http://www.dvo.com/recipe_pages/deepfried/Batter_Fried_Zucchini_Sticks_full.html
~ Fried cactus: http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Fried-Cactus-Strips
~ Fish tacos: http://thepauperedchef.com/2006/06/baja_fish_tacos.html
http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2009/02/easy-pan-fried-fish-tacos-with-white-sauce-recipe.html

(I used frozen mahi mahi pieces, and dressed the whole thing with a simple guacamole, yogurt/mayo white sauce, and raw radishes and cilantro.)

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Southern Exposure

#5 Brooks Robinson, Orioles legend

Caught the Bolt for a buck (or more)
For a 3-day weekend in Baltimore:
To see old friends and new sights,
Indulge in Southern charm and culinary delights,
And in my (old) backyard ... explore.

North Avenue guides me from interstate to inner city:
Metropolitan sprawl to blocks both gentrified and gritty.
New York, I love you, but you're bringing me down.
So let's take a chance on this old, yet vibrant town--
Two centuries since the Bombardment, and never more pretty.

Past Downtown and Inner Harbor we drive
To the hot spots in Fell's Point--both luxury and dive.
How 'bout lunch and a soccer match, if we make it quick?
Bertha's mussels and an afternoon pint do the trick.
Spain routs France, and for another round La Roja survive.

To Vaccaro's we amble for an Italian snack:
Pastries, cakes, and gelato--there's no lack.
We select some cannoli filled beyond capacity.
Where else would you find such vintage generosity?
Won't see Berger's here--just pignoli by the stack.

How about a movie to kill some time and avoid the heat?
To the Charles Theater we scurry and grab a seat
Just in time for the new Wes Anderson flick:
Moonrise Kingdom--quirky & sweet, clever & quick,
With characters and actors that can't be beat.

A brief drive fulfills the day's final mission:
A late, but fresh dinner at Woodberry Kitchen.
An old foundry houses this farm-to-table joint,
Where course after course fails to disappoint.
A delicious meal here might become a tradition.

On a bright summer Sunday fit for a ballgame,
More friends arrive, and a shady corner of Camden Yards we claim.
But early on, the Nationals take the lead.
Runners left on base? It seems the Os just won't succeed.
Except for a two-run homer by Wieters--and his arm's deadly aim.

A better finish couldn't have been written:
A sold-out stadium and an Orioles win;
Relaxing with friends, a Natty Boh in hand.
On to DC I travel, leaving behind Maryland
For some Ledo's and that new(s) show by Aaron Sorkin.

We swing by College Park, home to my alma mater,
For a bagel brunch, as the day grows hotter.
The sight of campus evokes memories both good and bad,
But I hold no love for Route 1, which never looked so sad;
Vertigo Books, 3 years gone--caught in a cultural slaughter.

Though the Mall is a construction zone,
There are still free museums, obscure and well-known:
At the Hirschorn we interact with modern art--
Colorful installations where the viewer must take part.
While Natural History exhibits colonial skeletons & bones.

We end our afternoon with increased knowledge,
Of the kind they don't teach you in college:
That art can be both pretentious and fun,
That 85% of Jamestown died in the Chesapeake sun,
And that a Rita's has been hiding under a Chinatown ledge.

But evening arrives and I must depart,
Though I do so with a heavy heart.
This trip of good times with good friends,
Is all too brief and too quickly ends.
One adventure over, I look for the next one to start.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Half girls, half guys, and all rock




My new favorite band, Beast Make Bomb balances clever art-school songcraft with punk moxie. Three years on from their inception at NYU, they are navigating a rising course through the New York music scene. With cool confidence, they have great potential and no shortage of energy to play shows large and small. I caught two of the latter just last week and remain infatuated with a band that deserves more fans and praise than little ol' me can provide.

It's hard to express, but on that night at Bar Matchless, they were just the perfect band to see--the right band for me, that is. Maybe I'm projecting on them what I want from my ideal band, but you can't deny the facts: the guitarist's slick riffs, lead singer's swagger, bassist's scruffiness, and drummer's intensity.

And although I don't know the members of BMB, they are as essential to my appreciation of the band as its music. Once again, I hope to draw inspiration from talented people doing what they love (because it certainly can't be for the money). Striving to be creative and productive with all their available time and talent, while remaining true themselves, has brought them this far and surely further. But who knows ... they may break up next week, their synergy spent; and I may very well get another new favorite band, and no longer show up like Mel from Flight of the Conchords at every concert.  Yet, since they're good and didn't seem like they were, you know, half-assing it up there, I doubt any of that will happen soon.

Since I lack a certain distance and critical eye/ear, I realize this post may not be the most objective or insightful review. Nonetheless, BMB in concert is the best art (and fun) I have recently experienced, and I couldn't not share it.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Getting back to it ...


In the year 2012, I have been to Iceland just as many times as I have posted here. Forgive me for the humblebrag, but I really don’t know how else to begin my return to this blog … you know, the one supposedly dedicated to getting me to write more about anything and everything.

The hiatus is partially due to my lack of progress with my Rite of Spring project. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to post again about my story (see below) until I had a complete rough draft to share. And despite my research and writing in January, February, and March … I haven’t finished that—hence the lack of posts. (However, I should have posted about seeing maestro Alan Gilbert leading the Julliard Orchestra in a kick-ass version of the Rite. Hm … maybe I’ll get around to doing that after all.)

In the meantime, however, I have done a variety of things that a less-discriminating person would call “bloggable.” And seeing as I seldom write creatively, or have any wry observations or impassioned views to express in essay form, I must again deign to recounting and reflecting on the life I am extraordinarily lucky to have here in the greatest city in the country world. (And by that I, of course, mean Jersey City.)

Monday, January 9, 2012

"The Rite of Spring" in concert



It’s hard to believe there was a time when orchestral music was provocative. Hell, it’s difficult even to imagine contemporary popular music—or Art in general—being shocking or controversial, but occasionally it is. Certainly, modern concepts would be unfamiliar and perhaps disturbing to a visitor from the past. And maybe I’m too jaded or ignorant to recognize the responses to mainstream culture in our society today, oversaturated and overexposed as it is—and yet nominally prudish and conservative. But forget my digressions and believe me when I tell you that there was a moment in time, just a century ago, when a ballet could cause a riot.