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A Drawing A Day For One Year: метаморфоза Week 6

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This is Week 6 of my daily drawing series, метаморфоза (Metamorphosis.) I hope you enjoy it.

For those of you who are new here, I am conducting an experiment in free association -- creating a new image daily in a variety of media and posting them here weekly.

Perhaps what is most exciting about this daily drawing project is the surprise factor, the not knowing what each day will bring and how the thread will continue to evolve from week to week, month to month, until the 365 days are up.

The school of Polish Poster design from the 1960s to the 1980s has always been a monumental influence in my work, so I am honored that a selection of 10 drawings from my first Marathon project, titled: "365," are now on exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw, along with a selection of fantastic artists who draw from a the same well of inspiration.

This exercise serves as a visual response to the world around me. Nothing remains safe from re-appropriation. This last week took an interesting turn with an appearance of freud, dismembered body parts, sexual fantasy and sexual repression, disguised as phallic fauna. Surprising to me, метаморфоза 32 has received hundreds reposts on Tumblr, implying it perhaps embodies the sort of obsession or distraction that many human minds' suffer from.

Week 6:

32

метаморфоза 32



33

метаморфоза 33



35

метаморфоза 34



35

метаморфоза 35



36

метаморфоза 36



37

метаморфоза 37



38

метаморфоза 38



I will be traveling down to Miami for Art Basel next week, and I look forward to reporting back a few lines on my impressions there -- which i am certain will also show up in my imagery.

To those of you for whom a weekly update just isn't enough, or to see an archive of all the images leading up to today's post, follow: tumblr, facebook, or instagram.

Henry Faulkner: Lost Artist of the Gothic South

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Archways & Gables (1972)



Middling southern towns possessed of baroque and kinky histories suffered terrible dilemmas in the 1950s and 60s: how to grow and gain respect in the booming post-war era without flushing their rich heritage down the town branch. Lexington, the first capital of Kentucky when it was but a large Virginia county, presented a classic dilemma marked by the arrival of IBM's typewriter division and surrounded by a steadily metastasizing suburbia gobbling up its famous white-fenced horse farms. Wrecking balls for high-rise banks replaced the quaint old hotels as fast-food cholesterol bankrupted ancient neighborhood eateries. It was the America that terrified European preservationists.

But in Lexington as elsewhere there were exceptions, scant tribes of artists, tale tellers and eccentrics who both refused to sell off the past even as they embraced a new kind of future--and for Kentucky none cast a sharper shadow than a brilliant young painter who trolled the back streets picking up young fellows (I was almost one of them) and entertaining the glamorous horse aristocracy at their Bourbon-drenched Derby Day parties.

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Half Nude Boy (1952)



Henry Faulkner's origins are as obscure as many of his surreal images. He claimed to be a poor cousin to the much more famous Faulkner of Mississippi, though there's little evidence of the connection. He told people that he was born in Egypt, Kentucky, a hamlet with a good sounding name deep in Appalachian Breathitt County (known as "Bloody Breathitt for its unionizing mine workers and the mine bosses armed goons), though other records suggest he was born several counties to the west, and he was largely raised in foster homes after his mother died, eventually managing to escape by rail to Lexington--it's said--determined to make his name as a poet-performer and painter. The poetry, such little of it as has survived, is of middling note, but several hundred of his drawings and paintings, developed under formal training in Louisville and Los Angeles, have been favorably compared to the great colorists and surrealists of the inter-war years. To those who know or remember, they also stand as witness to the largely erased bohemian and esthetic heritage for which Lexington was known from the Forties through the Sixties.

A new film, In Search of a Unicorn (and possibly a specialized museum) is under production aimed at capturing Faulkner's place in Lexington's heritage. Folk and Bluegrass radio impressario Ed Commons (Red Barn Radio) has teamed up with Natasha Williams and the Balagula Theatre to produce the film. Williams moved to Lexington directly from Kiev, where she'd worked in classical theatre, a decade after Faulkner's death. She immediately fell in with one of Faulkner's dearest friends who ever since has regaled her with Faulkner's far flung life stories--from the time he worked as a hustler in California to his adventures in Sicily. "Henry's paintings and his story reminded me of my favorite painter, Georgian Nico Pirosmani, and that's how my love affair with Henry started," she told me when I passed through Kentucky last fall.

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Iroquois Hunt Club (1970s)



"There is something very special about someone like that. So many people think of [Faulkner] as a jester, this performer with strange behavior. You start digging into the whole picture, and you find a fascinatingly talented, complex, intelligent... person who was friends with Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams and whose work was collected by Marlon Brando. Betty Davis. Bertolt Brecht, Vincent Price, even Phyllis George and who was in the insane asylum with Ezra Pound. Ezra Pound took him under his wing."

Eccentric artists abound across the American South, but what fascinated Ed Commons was not only Faulkner-the-painter, but Faulkner-the-man--a cross dressing performer who circulated as easily among Lexington's aristocracy--including two famously wild rich women from the horse world, Anita Madden and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney--as among the sex trade boys who cruised the parking lot behind the city's all-purpose gay bar, The Living Room.

A premature animal rights activist, Faulkner often as not arrived in the company of his most loyal companion, Alice, a white goat.

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Eccentricities aside, Faulkner would have amounted to little more than a local color character but for his paintings, variously compared to Miro, Chagall and Klimt for his mélange of color and the fantastic. The pastels and water colors range from abstracted small towns in Kentucky to misty California landscapes to the urban cityscapes he saw traveling through France and Italy, where the work was shown in Parisian and Roman galleries. Many of the sketches are of the boys and men in his life.

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Streetscene With Slanting Buildings



What happens to the collection of 200-plus drawings and paintings sold in early November by the estate of Faulkner's accountant and patron, Greene A. Settle, to the First Southern National Bank in Eastern Kentucky bank, remains unclear. The bank reportedly saw the collection as a sound investment, and there have been efforts in Lexington to collaborate with the bank in opening a Faulkner Museum that would both promote the work as a major element in the city's artistic history.

Images courtesy of Greene A. Settle Collection owned by First Southern National Bank.

Dog Ears Music: Black Friday Playlist -- "One Debt Away"

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2008-01-08-de.jpg














Middle Class Rut










Song: One Debt Away

Album: No Name No Color (Deluxe Edition)

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Hank Williams










Song: Window Shopping

Album: 20 of Hank Williams' Greatest Hits

Genre: Country

Buy: iTunes.com




The Beatles










Song: Can't Buy Me Love

Album: A Hard Day's Night

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com




The Velvet Underground










Song: The Gift

Album: White Light/White Heat

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com




Bernard Herrmann










Song: The Toys

Album: Psycho

Genre: Soundtrack

Buy: iTunes.com




Peggy Lee










Song: Big Spender

Album: The Best of Miss Peggy Lee

Genre: Vocal

Buy: Amazon.com




The Pied Pipers










Song: What a Deal

Album: Good Deal, MacNeal

Genre: Jazz

Buy: iTunes.com




Bob Dylan










Song: New Pony

Album: Street-Legal (Remastered)

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com




The Miracles










Song: Shop Around

Album: 20th Century Masters-The Millennium Collection: Best of Smokey Robinson & The Miracles

Genre: R&B/Soul

Buy: iTunes.com




Tony Bennett










Song: Love for Sale

Album: The Beat of My Heart

Genre: Jazz

Buy: iTunes.com




Fitz & The Tantrums










Song: MoneyGrabber

Album: Pickin' Up the Pieces

Genre: Pop

Buy: iTunes.com




Supergrass










Song: Cheapskate

Album: In It for the Money

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Ry Cooder










Song: Smells Like Money

Album: The Ry Cooder Anthology: The UFO Has Landed

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com




Buffalo Springfield










Song: Pay the Price

Album: Buffalo Springfield

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com




Sleater-Kinney










Song: Sold Out

Album: Sleater-Kinney

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart










Song: Two for the Price of One

Album: I Wonder What She's Doing Tonite?

Genre: Pop

Buy: iTunes.com




Hungry Kids of Hungary










Song: No Returns

Album: Escapades

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Jetty Boys










Song: Empty Handed

Album: Sheboygan

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Modest Mouse










Song: Bankrupt On Selling

Album: The Lonesome Crowded West

Genre: Alternative

Buy: iTunes.com




Jimmy Buffett










Song: Money Back Guarantee (1992 Box Set Version)

Album: Boats, Beaches, Bars & Ballads

Genre: Rock

Buy: iTunes.com


Deck the Balls

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Click here to watch the TEDTalk that inspired this post.

I recently watched Mike Rowe's TEDTalk "Learning From Dirty Jobs" and found it quite interesting. For one, he talked at length about a job he did where he had two testicles dangling from his chin. Mr. Rowe found the experience quite horrifying. Truth be told, two testicles on my chin seems like a regular Tuesday night for me. Granted Mr. Rowe's testicles belonged to a sheep, but hey, we are all different colors in the crayon box, so Mike -- you do you.

He also talked a lot about peripeteia, which to my surprise is an actual word. Foolish me thought it was the name of an unfortunate drag queen I saw perform a hideously unsuccessful Madonna/Nana Mouskouri mash-up at a dive bar in Saskatoon.

Once my medication kicked in however, I was able to focus more on the idea of work and what my career has personally meant to me.

You see, my career wasn't just supposed to pay my bills. It was supposed to save me. Save me from a torturous bullied childhood, get me out of my shit-stain of a home town, prove that I wasn't just the "dumb fag" the kids at school called me and, if I'm to be absolutely honest, prove it not so much to the people in my town, but more so to myself. As it turns out, "I'll show you" is a perfect motivator for success.

As far as careers go, all I ever wanted to do was dance. Well, actually growing up in the Roman Catholic Church on Long Island, there was that brief period when I thought I wanted to be a priest, but then my grandmother told me a bedtime story as she tucked me in one night. It started off, "A priest, a pedophile and a rapist walks into a bar... then he orders a drink." Dance was clearly the more respectable option.

I would constantly gauge my self-worth on whether I was working and what I was working on at the time. -- John Carroll


I've been lucky enough to achieve all I have wanted to do with my dancing. My career has afforded me many blessings, both financial and personal. It got me out of my hometown, gave me self esteem, money in the bank, a great work ethic and strong people skills. It flew me around the world, introduced me to wonderful friends and put me in the right place at the right time to meet my husband.

However, there was a trend throughout my journey to success. I would constantly gauge my self-worth on whether I was working and what I was working on at the time.

My ego was strongly wrapped up in my job. I felt on top of the world when I was employed and felt equally worthless when I wasn't. In this society of "more, more, more", "instant celebrity" and "I want it done yesterday", it was difficult for me to not compare myself to what others had accomplished and not judge myself based on what I was doing.

As a professional dancer, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I'm getting a little long in the tooth (no comments, thank you). I mean, I have a couple of good years left in these ol' dancing feet but let's face it -- my days are numbered. Father Time is practically snickering behind my back.

I've been trying to figure out what I want to do in, what I like to call "Act Two" of my life. As of now I see my options as being a stripper, a Showcase Showdown model or a Bea Arthur impersonator.

I'm not getting any better ideas from watching Dirty Jobs either. I don't necessarily watch a man use a knife and his own incisor's to castrate a sheep, only then to spit the severed balls into a bucket and think, "That's it!" When I watch Mike Rowe mimic someone who's job it is to inseminate a cow, shove his arm so far up the animal's backside that it eventually looks like the bovine rectum is attempting to swallow the man whole, I don't naturally have the urge to yell, "Sign me up!"

Though I'm not sure what the next phase of my career will be, whatever it is, I hope to continue to understand that work doesn't need to save me anymore, doesn't need to define me and that comparing my work to other's is a lesson in futility. Maybe the point is to not be so judgmental of the "dirtier jobs" and be open to any and all possibilities.

So when we see each other at a holiday party this season and you notice something strange stuck in my teeth, know it's probably just remnants of a sheep's testicle and smile, happy in the knowledge that I've learned a valuable lesson and found a new job.

Ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to thoughtful people, they morph and adapt into their most potent form. TEDWeekends will highlight some of today's most intriguing ideas and allow them to develop in real time through your voice! Tweet #TEDWeekends to share your perspective or email tedweekends@huffingtonpost.com to learn about future weekend's ideas to contribute as a writer.

An Enthralling Nutcracker at New York Theatre Ballet

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New York Theatre Ballet dancers in Keith Michael's Nutcracker (Photo: Julieta Cervantes)



It's been an exhausting Fall season of bi-coastal dance, full of thought-provoking ballet -- from the dazzling, messy new Tempest at American Ballet Theatre, to Crystal Pite's Emergence at Pacific Northwest Ballet, Nacho Duato's bewitching Por Vos Muero at Oregon Ballet Theatre, dark fairy tales at West Wave, Alonzo King's mesmerizing Writing Ground in San Francisco, and Unión Tanguera's erotic tango reverie at Cal Performances in Berkeley.

A jetlagged Ballet to the People now intends to curl up in her pyjamas in front of the fire, with an eggnog and a cozy Nutcracker.

In the bi-coastal spirit, however, she will board a plane one more time this year to catch one of her all-time favorite Nutcrackers: New York Theatre Ballet's captivating version by Keith Michael at the Florence Gould Hall in midtown Manhattan. The run comprises three performances daily - at 11 am, 1 pm, and 3:30 pm - on December 14, 15 and 22 only, so plan ahead.

Eschewing the cast of thousands, the grandeur of an opera house and of Christmas trees that inflate to skyscraper height, this streamlined retelling of the Nutcracker glories in the virtues of economy and wit. Situated, delightfully, on top of a mantelpiece and embellished in turn-of-the-20th-century Art Nouveau style, real people and figurines mingle, somewhat surreally, against a protean set designed by Gillian Bradshaw-Smith. Though aimed principally at young children, the production's many clever details, and its crisp, unsentimental, high-octane storytelling have proven equally irresistible to more jaded adults. Sylvia Nolan, Resident Costume Designer of the Metropolitan Opera designed the stylish, sophisticated costumes that include polka-dotted mice, clockwork imps, and Chinese dancers wielding enormous chopsticks. A luminous owl flies above the audience. The hands of a ticking clock become swords in the dancers' hands. The magic stays with us well beyond the hour.

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New York Theatre Ballet dancers in Keith Michael's Nutcracker (Photo: Julieta Cervantes)



Serving up imaginative versions of the classics -- as well as newly commissioned work by acclaimed contemporary choreographers -- all at affordable ticket prices, this tiny, much-lauded company has steadfastly delighted audiences since its founding in 1978. New York Theatre Ballet has worked hard to introduce newcomers to ballet, targeting underserved markets -- not just in New York City, but also in smaller cities across America -- filling a niche that the larger, less nimble dance companies tend to ignore.

NYTB - Nutcracker Promo 2012 from New York Theatre Ballet on Vimeo.



Last year, critic Robert Gottlieb reported on NYTB's Nutcracker:

It's extraordinary the way [Michaels] achieves so much with so small an ensemble. What's more, the choreography is musical and inventive -- and fun. These are committed dancers, as much at home in this classic as they were in Tudor, Cunningham and Alston the last time I saw the company. The atmosphere is relaxed and rowdy, the experience a happy one. Don't forget this one at Nutcracker time next year!


The Nutcracker is part of NYTB's Once Upon a Ballet series. Other ballets in the series include:

The Alice-in-Wonderland Follies
January 25, 2014 at 1pm and January 26, 2014 at 11 am, 1 pm, and 3:30 pm

Cinderella
March 1-2, 2014 at 11 am, 1 pm, and 3:30 pm

Carnival of the Animals & Sleeping Beauty's Wedding
May 3, 2014 at 1pm, May 4 at 11 am, 1 pm, and 3:30 pm

Whether the company will survive past this season is anyone's guess, however. The tornado of urban renewal recently swept up the historic building that has housed NYTB's studios and offices for over 30 years; its sale by the Madison Avenue Baptist Church, and impending demolition and redevelopment will shortly force New York Theatre Ballet onto the streets. As with a growing number of arts organizations, NYTB is discovering that stratospheric real estate costs, and the coupling of developer greed with city government apathy, make New York City inhospitable to all but the behemoths whose donors possess exceptionally deep pockets. A shameful state of affairs in the performing arts capital of the world.

Knowing that this may well be the last season of Keith Michael's sparkling Nutcracker should at least galvanize you to score tickets today.

And while you're standing on line at the box office, tweet Mayor-elect de Blasio (@BilldeBlasio), who on the campaign trail spoke up for the struggling middle class and small businesses, and ask him what he intends to do to reverse the noxious trend that is wiping out small but legendary institutions like NYTB and New York City Opera.

Grabbing Every Opportunity

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I was sitting in a meeting of a board development committee of one of my clients when someone uttered the conventional wisdom, "We need to grab at every opportunity."

Everyone nodded in knowing consent and happily created a long list of actions the committee and the staff should pursue in the coming months.

But it got me thinking: Here is troubled organization which has a thin staff and a modestly involved board with an ambitious plan for survival and growth. Can this group really afford to grab at every opportunity?

I think not.

I am increasingly convinced that one of the reasons organizations fail to implement their plans -- often after a relatively rigorous, time-consuming and expensive planning process -- is that the plans do not set out clear priorities.

Believe me, I am as entrepreneurial as the next person, and I believe in grabbing major opportunities when they arise. A well-timed, well-executed special project, fund-raising event or marketing activity can help boost visibility and revenue. But almost every arts organization is a small enterprise and every time a project is added to our lists of ventures, something else must be deleted. Otherwise we are in danger of spreading our organization -- and the attention of donors and audience -- too thin.

Board members must learn that we simply cannot grab every opportunity. Some project ideas sound good but are not worth the time, energy, focus and financial cost. It is wonderful when board members bring us their ideas and staff leaders must be open to them. But board members must be willing to hear that one of their pet ideas simply cannot be executed at that time because of scarce resources and other, higher priority projects.

I believe that planning consultants are often to blame (and I am a proud, if often guilty, consultant myself) for creating too-long lists of activities because, in an effort to provide our worth to the clients, we provide laundry lists of activities they should pursue.

But I think planners who say "focus on these three things over the next year" are doing a better job for their clients than those who produce 25 pages of strategies. Shouldn't part of the planner's job be to evaluate the items on their lists of possible projects and determine which few are most potent and implementable given existing staff, board, volunteer and financial resources?

Doesn't focusing a board and staff on the truly important activities help prevent them from pursuing only the items that are comfortable while ignoring those activities that will truly create health? I have observed far too many boards that discuss cultivating donors, finding new prospects, writing thank you notes, etc. without ever asking for funds and others that will get excited about a very modest marketing activity that takes inordinate amounts of staff attention that leaves no time for actually using the event to cultivate interest in the organization.

Grabbing at every opportunity sounds nice but it just isn't smart.

Lisa Adams on the ImageBlog

A Grave Man: A Short Interview with Romeo and Juliet's Christian Camargo

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The Broadway production of Romeo and Juliet offers a new view on a storied tale. Among the standout performers is Christian Camargo, in the role of Mercutio, who capitalizes on his side role as Romeo's best friend and confidant. Here's a look inside what went into this production's creation, courtesy of Camargo:

What made you interested in this role?

Camargo: I've always wanted to play this role. Mercutio is as refined as he is course. Unpredictable. A character of extremes. It also helps that Shakespeare gave him the gift of gab ... and mab.

Have you performed Shakespeare before?

Camargo: I've played Hamlet and Coriolanus, Orlando in As You like It and Ariel in Tempest, among others. It all began when Mark Rylance invited me to be a part of the inaugural production of Henry V at the Globe. It was there I met the queen of England dressed as the queen of France. But that's another story.

Your character, Mercutio, only appears in a handful of scenes, but he really packs a punch in this production. How did you conceive of him?

Camargo: David Leveaux, Fabio Toblini (costume director) and I settled on Keith Richards as a template to begin. There's something mysterious and playful about Richards which works for Mercutio. In my mind, Mercutio commands every space he's in. He challenges everything, desperate to be heard and seen. Romeo's seeming betrayal in befriending Tybalt destroys him. A powerful personality that's incredibly fun to play.

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(photo courtesy of Carol Rosegg)

The director took a famous play and set it with a more modern backdrop and contemporary costumes. Did this affect how you approached your role?

Camargo: Yes. The contemporary setting allows me to play with the physicality as well as some meaning within the lines. I'm able to give some words a contemporary slang like interpretation. I say Shakespeare's lines but the meaning isn't necessarily Elizabethan. "Blow" changes from a violent connotation to a sexual connotation. "Fiddlestick" changes from "sword" to ... well, you can imagine.

Some of the action spills over into the audience, with characters coming and going through the aisles. What impact does that have on the movement of the play itself?

Camargo: I see theater as a simple formula. Audience plus players plus story makes the play. Without one there's no show. Each is as equally important as the other. Entering through the audience links all three together. It also takes away the presentational perception of a Shakespearean play; these proscenium stages can seem distant at times, and David wanted to break this. He wanted the audience to feel like they were part of this other world.

Why do you think Romeo & Juliet is considered to be the quintessential love story?

Camargo: For reasons I don't fully understand, tragic love has a certain appeal. The play has some of the most romantic language ever written. We absorb the words as the lovers absorb each other. In the end, we're all romantics. Even the pragmatics. Even Mercutio.

Spirituality, a New Biography and a Rogue Butterfly: A Conversation With Pop Culture Icon Peter Max

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I recently bumped into Peter Max in a vegetarian restaurant on the Upper West Side of New York City. After a friendly wave, Max invited me over to his table and generously asked if I'd like to share his corn on the cob. I politely declined, as my friend was waiting for me back at our table. I did, however, take the opportunity to connect with Max, who enthusiastically spoke of his new biography: The Universe of Peter Max.

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Last year around this time I first met and interviewed Max for the PBS series Market Warriors. In a Canton, Texas episode of the show, I'd purchased an outdoor thermometer I thought was one of his designs. That purchase led me to his studio for further investigation. As fate would have it, I quickly learned the thermometer was in the 'style' of Max, but not one of his own creations. That said, I wasn't fretting over it, because that Max wannabe created an opportunity for me to meet a living legend, and, as it turns out, a great guy.

Interviewing Max that first time was not an opportunity I took lightly. After all, how often does one get the chance to spend a significant amount of time with the man who is widely regarded as America's most successful commercial artist? After his first poster sold eight million copies worldwide, 72 companies began licensing his designs -- which graced everything from postage stamps to pantyhose.

As I began to ask Max questions during that interview a year ago, he directed the conversation back to me, and made sure to get my name, rank and serial number in just a few moments. He then smiled, looked me up and down, and said. "We should get together and work on something." This exchange embodies the kind of open and curious nature that defines Peter Max.

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THE JOURNEY IS THE DESTINATION

After we reconnected at that restaurant, I made an appointment to return to Max' studio. This time I came to discuss his biography -- an entertaining, inspiring read released by Harper Collins just last week.

As we sat in his Art Deco conference room, I listened to his stories, and was quickly reminded that with Max the journey really is the destination. He told me that while he appreciates his completed work, he's at his happiest when he's in the middle of creating, so he has many projects going on at once.

"Being in the creative moment, I love much more than the finished piece," Max said. "As I create art, it is like a love affair. My days go by loving what I do."

At 76, Max is a fit, agile man with an enormous amount of positive energy. He feels quite ageless and has an electric quality about him that is palpable. He spoke in low, soft tones, and carried himself with quiet strength. A vegan, Max is attests he's got at least 30 more years to spend on this planet, and I'm inclined to believe him. But perhaps what I get most from Max is that he's happy, content and motivated to keep working.

SPIRITUAL CONNECTION

I feel the art of Peter Max is quite spiritual, and when I shared my opinion with him, he smiled and leaned in closer. It seems I hit the nail on the head, because that's when our conversation really took off.

With the work of Max being so ubiquitous, it's hard to believe that just 47 years ago he was relatively unknown. At the time, Max was experimenting with collage and a filmmaker in Paris saw one of his pieces and invited him to come and make a movie. Max went to Paris, but instead of a movie, he came back with a Swami. Being Peter Max, he invited the Swami Satchidananda into his home, and in very little time, he helped him become established in New York.

Max told me the Swami shared with him concepts that were "poetic, without rhyming" He said they were "about the sun and the universe" and "who we are -- the infinity of life." (Sounds an awful lot like Peter Max artwork, doesn't it?)

"I called all my hippie friends and told them I brought a Holy Man to talk with us. I invited 30 people, and 80 showed up." Those friends included the likes of Carole King and The Rascals' Felix Cavaliere. Max went on to tell me that every one of the guests who had ever used any drugs, immediately stopped, and half of them became vegetarian.

In what sounds like the blinking of an eye, Max formed the Integral Yoga Institute, of which he became President. Max recognized that in order to keep what he had found, he needed to share it with others.

It was shortly after working intensely with the Swami that Max was tapped to create his first poster for the mass market. After the first million sold in the U.S., another 7 million were quickly snapped up internationally. Then came the cover of Life Magazine, then guest appearances on Ed Sullivan and Johnny Carson. Next up there was a contract with GE to create clocks, and so on, and so on...

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Max the commercial artist had arrived.

Is there a spiritual connection in the work and success of Peter Max? Absolutely.

While his Swami passed away at the age of 90, Max said he is still very much with him. "This holy man brought the cosmos to my heart. He lives in me... I close my eyes and begin breathing... and I know that pleasant place he brought out in me... it's still there. It's in my work... and in everything I do."

As for the Integral Yoga Institute, it is alive and well and continues to pass along the Swami's teachings on a daily basis.


A GENTLE MAN

As our conversation about spirituality blossomed, Max shared a recent story with me that showcased his gentle nature. "I am very concerned about our planet and am about respecting all living things," Max told me.

He then talked about a recent plane trip where he found an unexpected stowaway... It seems a creature that fell somewhere between a moth and a butterfly was loose in the cabin. Max saw at least three passengers trying to swat and kill it, and he asked them to please spare "her" life. He asked the stewardess for a cup a piece of paper, and gently captured her inside. Max then held her on his lap for the duration of the trip.

When he landed, he drove to remote area and set the creature free. "She flew out and into the woods, and I never saw her again... and I was pleased for hours and hours... "

Again, with Max, the journey is the destination.

In fact, Max is a bit like that butterfly. His family fled Nazi Germany when he was a child, and they landed in China where they spent a decade. There his artistic life was encouraged and developed. His parents hired a nanny who was just three years his senior. They lived in a Pagoda and he was taught that his work didn't have to have boundaries or limitations (what a gift!). His nanny's name was Umba, and Max channeled pure gratitude when he spoke of her.

Leaving his nanny and mentor at a young age wasn't easy for Max: "When the ship pulled away, I cried my eyes out missing her." His family then headed to Israel for three years, and then onto Paris, where Max studied at The Louvre. After Paris, his family came to New York (Bensonhurst) and then Max moved to New York City.

Max was formally trained as an artist and studied expressionism and realism. He showed me examples of the diversity of his work in the studio, and his artistic range is pretty jaw dropping.


POP ARTIST or COSMIC ARTIST

Max told me he always wanted to be an astronomer, and that idea of unknown galaxies and planets continues to fascinate him. As such, he prefers the phase "Cosmic Artist" to "Pop Artist." It seemed to me that his work allows Max to go places he can't physically get to in this lifetime. He pointed to an image of a man flying among a sea of stars on an image of the Woodstock stage he created, and smiled as he shared the joy of creating it with me.

Since Max hit in the late 1960s, I asked about the word 'psychedelic' in relation to his work. "I don't hear that very much," Max said. "I really prefer the word cosmic." Judging form the hundreds of magazine covers framed on the walls of the studio, most of which had a celestial theme, this phrase seemed pretty right to me.

I was also curious to get his thoughts on whether his first explosion of successful work in the 1960s was a reaction to what was going on in the world at the time, or whether the world reacted to his art. It was a hard question to phrase, but Max has heard it before.

He smiled and humbly said, "My work and that time in history were like two waves that hit at the same time... which part hit first... who can say? It all just became one piece of water."

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ROLE MODEL AND ADVICE

It's hard to imagine a young artist who wouldn't see Peter Max as a role model. I've heard him quoted as saying, "Draw a lot and get someone to represent you." When I read that quote to Max, he nodded and added, "Get into your own creativity. Sketch and paint with different mediums and follow your heart."

Max absolutely embodies the "Anything is Possible" mentality about career. Since I relate, I felt quite connected to him on that front. It seems that for Max, that philosophy also applies to his personal life. He smiled as he showed me a framed photograph of his lovely wife Mary. He told me that 13 years ago he spied her on the street outside in the vicinity of his studio, and he said to a friend who was with him, "I'm going to marry that woman." And he did. Max told me that his wife continues to be one of his greatest inspirations.

With Mary at his side and the Swami in his heart, it seems there's no stopping Peter Max.

For more about this man's incredible, inspirational journey, I highly recommend picking up a copy of his new book. Of course, there are also many photos of some of his best cosmic creations.

The Universe of Peter Max, Harper Collins

The Official Peter Max Website

The Integral Yoga Center

A Field Guide to the Eccentric Creatures of Classic Children's Literature

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Legions of creatures skulk and caper across the pages of classic children's literature. Vampires and werewolves, dragons and sea serpents, trolls and behemoths. I am partial to them all but, as with most things, I prefer the oddities. The outcasts. The eccentrics. When my publisher asked if I would like to contribute a list of my favorite literary creatures, I said, "I'd love to, but with a caveat. You have to let me plump for the weirdos."

Now. Before we get to the list: a warning. The creatures in the books I have selected are not your average, run-of-the-mill manticores and jackalopes. These are the mavericks. I am certain they will go some way in satisfying any eccentric creature hunter. (By this, of course, I mean hunters of eccentric creatures and not creature-hunters with mismatched socks or an errant facial twitch. Can you imagine? Mismatched socks!)

Of course, if you want truly eccentric creatures, if you are really after the very strangest of the strange, there is only one place to go. That would be...ahem...to my book, of course: The Creature Department. That's right, people. A whole department. Full of them. Where else will you find Parisian fairy-bats, imperious bombastadons, dopey knucklecrumplers, and wisecracking bog nymphs? Nowhere but through the secret doors to The Creature Department.

However, I understand some of you may not yet be prepared for such monumental, all-consuming weirdness. If that's the case, try one of these instead:


the doubtful guest


1. The Doubtful Guest by Edward Gorey
Who--or what--is the Doubtful Guest? A malign spirit? A sinister penguin? A waddling Edwardian mobster? No one knows.

2. The Mulefa in The Amber Spyglass by Phillip Pullman
Talk about eccentric. The mulefa are elephantine creatures who live in mud huts and roll around on gigantic seed-pods. They are particularly adept at tying knots. With their trunks.

3. The Vug in There's a Wocket in my Pocket by Dr. Seuss
Classic Seuss books have too many eccentric creatures to name, so what makes the Vug stand out? He was censored for being too frightening--in 1996, 22 years after the book was first published. What was wrong with people in 1996?


jabberwocky


4. The Jabberwocky in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
What could be more eccentric than when your borogoves go all mimsy?

5. The Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
If confronted by the Beast, toss a towel over your head. Trust me.


tock


6. Tock, the watchdog, in The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
True to the book's anthropomorphic punning, Tock is a friendly guardian who lives up to his name (he has a whopping great watch face embedded in his flanks).

7. The Black Rabbit of Inlé in Watership Down by Richard Adams
Who would have imagined the Grim Reaper...as a bunny rabbit? Shiver.


where the wild things are


8. The Wild Things in Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
Is there any better manifestation of childhood capriciousness than the Wild Things? Is there anybody better at wildly rumpussing? No, and no. Also, rumpus is not a verb, but I don't care. RAWR!

9. The Groke in Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansen
The Groke is shaped like a big purple hill, with angry eyes and shining teeth. She is extremely fearsome and--perhaps as a result--rather lonely.

10. Skellig by David Almond
Is Skellig the logical evolution of a pterodactyl? Is he an angel? Is he a homeless man with a grievous spinal deformity? Also, which tastes better: Chinese food and beer...or insects?

11. The Whangdoodle in Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and The Minpins by Roald Dahl
You need a keen eye to spot a Whangdoodle. Willy Wonka only mentions the creature briefly (he once rescued a Oompa Loompa from a Whangdoodle), while in The Minpins, the children are warned that the creatures haunt the nearby woods.

Deleting Creative Work

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Story

Marti went to discover a part of the cosmos that hasn't been seen before. She was a photographer. She had a real camera and a tripod. She took hundreds of pictures -- some she thought were gorgeous, some showing minutest details, some broad shots of the rainbow, some ugly.

She had them all on the iPod. She wanted to show them to her family, friends, clowns, and strangers. She didn't. She erased all photographs, all before and all after, each one of them, not one by one, but with one digital stroke.

She has no photos to share. She is a photographer without photos. She needs no affirmation to know she is a photographer.

Marti's Ruminations

Marti knows what her coworkers will say. "They will be confused and furious. Some will talk about the funds that supported my expedition, arguing wastage. Photographers trample each other for funds, much like Black Friday's hooligans, as if money can buy creativity. Some seek grants to fight boredom. Some go on voyages without purpose. Many successful photo-takers own not a single strand of creativity in their being. The pictures they take are dreary for their eye is not trained to see novelty. Some squander their talents."

Marti is certain that she is a creative artist. "Photography is the art of discovery. I need not go to a part of the cosmos that hasn't been seen before to be creative. That's just a ruse. I can go to the most dismal places and take incredible pictures. Creativity is not out there, it is in here. Only a creative mind can know another creative mind. I have a subjective view of creativity. I do not deny the existence of objectivity but objects are not creative, the photographer is."
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Marti believes that the academy rebuffs creativity. "By academy I mean other photographers, media, and awards. The academy suppresses creativity. They want me to take a thousand pictures of Obama -- smiling, stern, defending drone attacks. The academy won't allow me to take pictures of Osama -- smiling, stern, defending airplane attacks. Some fellas will have me arrested if I dared say in my pictures that Osama, not Obama, is a more intriguing object for creative photography."

Author's Notes

It is unclear why Marti chose to delete the entire portfolio. We would never know. Marti has been proud of her pictures. Some pictures she says were gorgeous, some ugly. If she were unsatisfied with the quality of some pictures she would not delete them all. Even the ugly pictures were technically perfect and she thought them ugly because they captured ugly events. Writers delete poor sentences, artists scrap poor paintings, and children erase wrong answers but obliteration of an entire work is peculiar. It appears that Marti, a seasoned photographer, has more profound reasons to delete the portfolio.

There is evidence that Marti is seeking freedom from her identity as a photographer. She knows that photography has become her dominant identity while she is a much more complex person. She has many identities. Photography has devoured her identities as a mother, pianist, yogi, catholic, cook, and numerous others. By deleting the portfolio, Marti has thrown away the crutch, medication, and professional disguise, a trilateral godhead that shrouds her byzantine persona. She has discarded the academic veil to come to terms with her unsheathed ego.

Marti has conflicted views over intellectual property. The monetization of mind offends Marti, the artist, but she entertains the notion that artists should be able to make a living by licensing their creative products. Marti's photography is indeed intellectual property. But so what? A person may throw away clothes and other pieces of property, as many do every week, week after week, and feel relieved when trash tubs are lifted and emptied into the garbage truck. Marti has every right to send her photos to the recycle bin and empty the bin. Ever since deletion, though, a thought has been fluttering through her mind that artists have social responsibility to preserve their creative works and share with others, with or without compensation.

Marti is not depressed. After deleting the portfolio, she invited family, friends, clowns, and strangers over dinner and had a blast. The dinner guests were divided over her decision, though, they all admired her valor. The guests noticed that her eyes were sparkling with joy, her lips were moist, hands free and dancing in the air as she talked. The tripod with the camera hooked on its top was idling in a corner of her study.

Biblical Depth vs. Artistic Freedom: A Scary Menorah

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I sat there nervously as the auction was proceeding. Michael Steinhardt, a 20 year collector of Judaica and former client was divesting himself of his Judaica collection. No one was really sure why. A known billionare and lifelong hedge fund and Wall street guru, he certainly didn't need the money. He explained himself in the media, that he wanted his collection to be disperse to the next generation. As he passed seventy years of age, he knows like all men, nothing lasts forever. I was grateful. While he had hundreds of pieces in his collection including many that I sold him, there was only one that I wanted. It was this Hanukkah lamp hand crafted in Altenburg, Germany approximately 160 years ago that was shaped like a mystical, mythological creature. The auction house that was selling it on Michael's behalf, classified it as hydra. I'm not sure what gave them the right to do so.

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When I am asked to explain the deep biblical or historical meaning between different forms of artistic style in Jewish ritual art, I am usually at a loss. Some things are simple. Many menorahs and Torah shields are decorated with two lions, representing the Lions of Judah. Many are decorated with Solominic pillars, also an easy one, these represented columns of the Beit Hamikdash. Some designs are harder and need more research. For instance, there is a famous menorah made by Isaac Szekman in Warsaw in the 19th century and copied for generations. This menorah is decorated with palm trees. We can find the basis for this in tehillim "TZADIK CATAMAR YIFRACH" which loosely translates to a righteous man stands strong.

And some, like this Hanukkah lamp, no matter where I look, how hard I study, I cant seem to put this lamp together with any definitive reason. Could it be the artist's vision of a biblical Seraph? Serpahim can be found both in the Torah and afterwards (Num 21:6-8; Deut 8:15; Isa 6:6, 14:29, 30:6). Maybe? Is that what the silversmith that created this lamp had in mind when he was crafting it? Was he a fan of Greek mythology? It certainly looks like the eight headed hydra that was slain by Heracles and titled by the auction house that was selling it. However, that wouldnt make much sense. It would be a contradiction. We celebrate the victory over the Greek Assyrians on Hanukkah Why would we deify their pagan beliefs? Thus it couldn't be a hydra.

I don't know what the artist had in mind when crafting this piece by hand. I don't think that anyone will ever know. Just like Michael Steinhardt couldn't define what initially attracted him to buy this lamp and why he was selling it. It was just an emotion. I would hypothesize that the silver smith that crafted it felt the same. He just wanted to make a lamp that was BOTH halachically sound and be really cool.

Sometimes there is no reason. Sometimes, it's just artistic freedom.

Happy Chanukah.

Soup Will Never Be An Entree -- Period

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First, I must state that I like soup, OK? It can be a delicious side dish or appetizer when accompanying a hearty meal. However, it's when soup graduates to entree that it becomes total bullshit.

I've never been a humongous soup fan. Not once did I ever come home from school salivating waiting for my mom to serve up some lip-smacking soup. I never let out a disappointed groan when she'd throw together a ham and cheese sandwich instead. Never once did the word "sorry" precede the sentence "we're having roast beef instead of soup tonight" in the house where I grew up.

And I don't place the responsibility on my parents' shoulders either. My father enjoyed pea soup and received many a compliment when he would cook it. However, due to my picky palette and weak stomach he eventually gave up trying to feed it to me when I would become visibly nauseous and almost vomit while it stewed on the stove. Even to this day, I can't stand the smell of pea soup and must do an immediate about-face for fear of acid reflux. Not to throw my Dad completely under the bus, I did eventually come around to enjoying his superb Dal Makhani but still, only as an appetizer and in small doses.

I understand the importance of soup through history. I understand its easy preparation and inexpensive nourishment for masses have earned its respected status on menus all over the world. For many, soup is a staple sustenance synonymous with bread and water. Trust me, I know all this but it doesn't mean I have to love it like one does a birthday cake.

Over time, I have had to sit and listen to people wax lyrical about their favourite soups, describing their love for it like one does a favourite household pet. God forbid I'm near one of them when they're actually eating it. To anyone else it might be potato leek soup but watching them pause between sips with eyes closed you'd think they were sipping the Amrit of Indra. All this public display of love-for-soup might be just overcompensating to hide their true disappointment at having to eat soup rather than some meaty brisket concoction.

The idea that soup can still get away with being served as an entree baffles me. Some restaurants give you the option to order soup in a small bowl as appetizer or a large bowl as main course. Shouldn't the upgrade of an appetizer, like soup, to entree status apply to other items on the menu? Why not take the veggie tray with accompanying cheese dip and call that your entree? Sound like I'm taking it too far? I'm just going by the path that soups have laid out.

Another dilemma that is never taken into account is whether or not to even bother with a beverage during a meal made of soup since you're basically eating liquid already. It's like serving pasta salad when you're about to have spaghetti and meatballs.

Arguments can be weakly made that hearty soups like Pho, Minestrone and Beef Noodle warrant their place as entrees. I call bullshit. Most of these so-called soups are really just distinguished stews or meals that should've been served on a plate but were dumped in a bowl and submerged in liquid.

Your plate of beef noodle wasn't good enough? Needed to drown it in some sort of spiced liquid? Why then doesn't someone extend that logic to beloved foods such as pizza, hamburgers or chocolate cake? Wouldn't you love to sip every savoury bit of your chocolate cake immersed in a bouillon of sprinkles, icing and fudge? How about delicious pizza soup made up of pepperoni purée and a mouthwatering wet blanket of crust?

Sickness has been the singular occasion when, with open arms, I have gladly upgraded soup to an entree, savouring each sip as it trickles down my swollen throat to soothe a fever, cough or satiate a flu-ridden stomach. Chicken soup, Hot & Sour soup and Rose Hip Soup (more popularly known as Nypon Soppa), have all come to my aid when I was feeling under the weather so I can't hate on them too much.

Funnily enough, I do enjoy consuming breakfast cereals as the main course of a breakfast meal. Though not technically classified as soup, cereals are eaten in the exact same manner, much like how ostrich have feathers but can't fly.

You see, I'm the type of person who will, without fail, find something to complain about, whether it's the day after I win the lottery or the night I finally spend with Kylie Minogue. The 10-million dollar cheque might have a crease at the bottom or the lampshade in Kylie's bedroom might be crooked. Don't misunderstand, I am grateful for the soup. But let's call a spade a spade and put the damn thing in a glass already, preferably with a straw.

ALSO ON HUFFPOST:

Review: The Magic Flute at L.A. Opera

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First appeared in L.A. Downtown News

Who knew that the über-hip had a sense of humor? Run, don't walk to the nearest browser and get your tickets to The Magic Flute, re-imaged by the cutting edge "1927" animation arts group, and now onstage at L.A. Opera. This one is a pure delight -- from wild stagecraft to exuberant song. It's a total reboot, and somewhere, up in musical heaven, Wolfgang is smiling.

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The Queen of the Night, part human, part cartoon, makes trouble.

From its first performance on September 30, 1791, The Magic Flute has been the special effects opera. A musical canvas on which artists painted crazy pictures. It opens with a prince battling a dragon, and as he seeks the enlightenment values of wisdom, courage and virtue (definitely capitalized by the composer), he encounters magical beasts, a bird-man, a bird-woman, trials by fire and water and of course, the Queen of the Night. The music itself is peppered with special effects: The highest note sung by a coloratura soprano, a trio of boy sopranos, the duet of "pa-pa-pa" sung by Papageno and Papagena.

Sometimes it's all taken too seriously... but no danger of that here.

The present production originated at the Komische Oper Berlin and was created by the British "1927" headed by the brilliant Suzanne Andrade and Paul Barritt. Direction is by the always-out-there Barrie Kosky, now artistic head of Komische Oper Berlin. It uses the latest in projection technology to create a series of whimsical animated tableau that mix 1920s silent-movie kitsch with greeting card silliness and Nightmare-Before-Christmas pop-art. Buster Keaton meets Tim Burton meets the animator from Monty Python.

Silent-movie style titles are substituted for the spoken dialogue between arias, and the scenes are often laugh-out-loud funny -- even while offering a contemporary edge.

Somehow, it all hangs together beautifully.

Eye-popping imagery can obscure the music, and as often happens in avant-garde productions, singers can find themselves becoming mere extras to the effects -- pawns rather than actors. In this case, however, the young, high-energy cast seems to delight in the combination of film and stage -- effortlessly hitting the complex animation cues while staying in touch with the audience. It's an exceptionally strong ensemble, held together by ever-masterful conductor James Conlon and chorus master Grant Gershon. Perhaps, as digital natives, this cast is just more comfortable than most singers in a virtual landscape.

Acoustically, it doesn't hurt that a big solid wall backs up the singers -- guaranteeing audio projection into the not-always-vibrant Chandler Pavilion.

Up-and-coming soprano Janai Brugger proved the musical highlight of opening night, as she managed to bring a stunning passion and control to her Pamina, Tamino's would-be lover - even while being attacked by cartoon dogs or posing in an animated snowfall. Her "Ach, ich fuhl's" was superb.

Tenor Lawrence Brownlee made for an engaging and robust Prince Tamino, despite having to perform in whiteface and peer into all that high-intensity, high-res projection.

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Tamino heads underground to endure his trials.

The biggest effects were, of course, reserved for the Queen of the Night, who appears as a three-story tall spider. One felt for Erika Miklósa, who performs the Queen in productions around the world -- forced to sing stock-still, and swathed in a white straight jacket as the animations were projected onto her body, and raged around the stage. She nevertheless managed to thrill the audience with her two big arias and her coloratura force and precision received the biggest applause of the evening.

The "three ladies" who serve the Queen were wonderfully and hilariously sung by Hae Ji Chang, Cassandra Zoé Velasco, and Peabody Southwell -- have these women been singing together for years? If not, they should form their own touring trio. Bass Evan Boyer struggled a bit to bring energy to his bearded and top-hatted Sarastro, but was admirably grave and mysterious.

It was interesting to see how this production played with the traditional themes of Magic Flute -- and yes, some good stuff gets lost in the translation.

Papageno, for example, is the comic heart of Magic Flute, working as a foil to all the serious Enlightenment themes, and the nonstop goodness of the priests who minister at the quasi-Masonic temple which initiates Tamino into its ranks. Papageno bumbles, he fumbles, he gets drunk even as he tries to follow his master to the heights of human virtue.

In traditional productions, he's a bird-man, dressed in feathers, playing Pan Pipes. Here he's not a bird-man, but a straight-up Buster Keaton, accompanied by of all things, an animated black cat. Robbed of his feathers by the costumer, his Pan Pipes by the director, and his best lines by the silent-movie titles, baritone Russian Rodion Pogossov still manages to be funny, songful, and engaging. But when he meets his bird-mate, Papagena (the delightful Amanda Woodbury), some of the traditional charm is definitely missing -- and the echo of his Pan Pipes in the orchestra is entirely out of context.

The physical "magic flute," however, usually an awkward and underutilized prop, gets a spectacular upgrade to a nude animated fairy, charming not just a few costumed beasts onstage, but a whole heavenly zodiac. The "magic bells" appear as a whole chorus line of animated women. All the temple initiates, including Pamina, imitate artistic director Suzanne Andrade's flapper hairdo. And yes, of course, the drunkenness brings about Disney-style pink elephants.

You wouldn't want this symbolism to dominate the opera for the next two centuries -- but just for a moment, here at the dawn of the digital age, the change is joyfully welcome.

Like I said, run, don't walk to the Pavilion before it's all over.

The Magic Flute continues through December 15. See here for details.

In Defense of Violin Music

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Times have changed for violinists. For generations, typical violin recital programs were like variety shows. Most often, the formula was to start with a baroque or classical sonata, followed by a large-scale romantic work (sometimes even a concerto with piano accompaniment), and to finish with a collection of shorter works -- true "violin" pieces. Alongside concertos by Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms, violinists played virtuoso works by Paganini, Wieniawski, Vieuxtemps, and Lalo. George Bernard Shaw (writing under the pseudonym of Corno Di Bassetto) once wrote of the difference between great composers of music for the violin and composers of great violin music. It was this ''great violin music" that was, for so many years, the dessert at the end of the violin recital meal and a welcome and regular feature of orchestral programs.

Things are different today. Despite their continued popularity with players and audiences alike, many of the great 19th century virtuoso concertos, former cornerstones of the repertoire, have been banished to obscurity or near-obscurity, receiving only the occasional performance, usually by young performers, for whom such transgressions are considered forgivable by the press and the "cultural elite". Recital programs, particularly in the biggest musical centers, have become quite serious affairs, practically guaranteed to consist of large, "important" sonatas, with the occasional world-premiere or avant-garde work thrown in the mix (I don't pine for the days of hearing concertos with piano accompaniment -- that is a tradition that rightfully belongs in history's scrap heap, in my opinion).

The violin literature is, of course, blessed with a tremendous number of works by history's greatest and most profound composers. But it is also blessed with a bountiful quantity of the finest "lighter fare." So what has happened to the Wieniawski, the Sarasate, the Paganini, the Kreisler? We hear this music in our conservatories, but all too rarely on the concert circuit, despite the fact that this is the music to which many concertgoers respond most warmly and enthusiastically. It is also worth pointing out that this kind of music often most clearly reveals the personality of the performer. It is my opinion that when one plays Beethoven or Brahms, it should sound like Beethoven or Brahms ("Beethoven Concerto, as interpreted by violinist X''). However, with this great virtuoso music the performer can, and perhaps should, impose somewhat more of himself or herself on the performance ("violinist X plays Wieniawski's Polonaise in D''). Food for thought, considering that a common (if bizarre and of questionable veracity) lament of music critics today is that performers have lost their individuality.

In 2008 I performed Sarasate's Ziguenerweisen, a piece familiar and beloved to music lovers everywhere, with the New York Philharmonic. It was the New York Philharmonic's first performance of the piece since 1968. How many pieces of music had the New York Philharmonic played in those 40 years? And how many times in those 40 years had Ziguenerweisen been heard across the street at The Juilliard School?

Last year, at the request of the conductor Charles Dutoit, I played Lalo's Symphony Espagnole, one of my favorite pieces, with the San Francisco Symphony, where it had not been played in a generation. Consider the review it received in the San Francisco Chronicle:
The 'Symphonie espagnole,' Edouard Lalo's broad but tissue-thin 1874 concerto for violin and orchestra, is one of those pieces that gets pulled out of mothballs periodically just to see whether it's acquired any new substance or appeal in the interim... endless streams of light-footed banalities that would not be out of place (or even noticeable) in a candle-lit cafe. The poverty of Lalo's harmonic palette -- he seems to have only a few basic tonalities at his disposal, and clings to them relentlessly...


There is a double-standard in the music world when Liszt's E-flat piano concerto is played regularly but Wieniawski's D-minor violin concerto is not; where Bellini and Donizetti are heard year after year at the Metropolitan Opera but Sarasate's Ziguenerweisen is not heard next door at the New York Philharmonic for 40 years.

Why has this happened? Violinists themselves are surely at least partially to blame. This music is hard, and in an age when heavily edited recordings are accepted as "live" and technical wunderkinds are sprouting up left and right, the very real danger that a technical infelicity on a bad night might end up living on forever on YouTube probably plays a part in convincing many established virtuosi that a technically dangerous showpiece isn't worth the risk. But I also feel that a musical snobbism has crept into world of music journalism. Music that has been beloved by players and audiences for generations is now being denied its place in the repertoire because it does not fit the within the narrative of "important" music.

It is time for a true revival of this wonderful genre of violin music -- time for violinists to return to the days of living dangerously, and time for critics and concert presenters to accept that music doesn't have to be by Mozart, Beethoven, or Brahms to be worthwhile and enjoyable.

26 Slogans That Frankly Make More Sense Than the Real Ones, Pt. 2

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Blue Notes: An Interview With Out Indie Darling Noah Daniel Wood

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This week I caught up with 21-year-old queer indie singer/songwriter Noah Daniel Wood while he was visiting Portland from Boston. We had brunch at SweeDeeDee, and over breakfast burritos, homemade pie and hot tea we talked about his new record, Blue Notes, which comes out this week.

Wood's music is raw and edgy at times, while always maintaining its position as just plain beautiful. For anyone who has ever felt the loss of a great love, this group of songs is sure to ring true. Noah takes us on a sonic journey into his confusion, his pain, the joy that comes with being seen and loved by another person for the first time, and the disappointment that comes with that youthful love's passing. Wood is brave with his feelings, comfortable with his sadness, and it makes for an extraordinarily intimate listening experience.

Noah's music also appeared on the 2012 charity compilation record I produced, Comp 175: A Benefit for Queer Programs and Services in the Pacific NW, alongside me, Peaches, Matt Alber, God-Des & She, Magic Mouth, Scream Club, Tom Goss, and dozens of others, so I've known for a couple of years that this young man is set to do really big things. I suggest you all fall in love with his songs now so you can brag to your friends later about how you heard about him first (like I just did)!

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Logan Lynn: Hi Noah! Glad it worked for us to meet up while you're in town! So when did you first start writing songs?

Noah Daniel Wood: I was about 16 years old and had just fallen in love with a close friend who encouraged me to attempt to record this one tune I had written.

Lynn: Smart friend!

Wood: I hunkered down in my bedroom and did what I could with what I had around. From there it just kind of snowballed into the way I coped with things.

Lynn: So your new record, Blue Notes, comes out this week. I had a chance to listen to it, and it is really special.

Wood: Thank you.

Lynn: Sure! I just speak the truth. How would you describe your sound to someone who has never heard your music before? My description would go something like "raw, unbridled, hopeful, youthful, old-soul lovesickness" (or something).

Wood: In the process of mastering it with Mike Davidson, I told him the finished product should be "like a heated blanket in the snow." These songs were very much a product of a forlorn love who moved across the country, trying to find warmth in the midst of a cold time in my life.

Lynn: Broken hearts make for the most fantastic records. Are all the songs on the album about said forlorn love?

Wood: Many of them are about that. It's always been important to me to make lyrics personal as well as universal, something relatable but also introspective, ponderings on life and love and youth, that sort of thing.

Lynn: While we are talking about youth, you are a gay 21-year-old man now.

Wood: Yes, sir.

Lynn: Wait, I'm not outing you, am I?

Wood: [Laughs.] No, no. That all happened in my teenage years. Much of the angst is able to be heard on my first EP, appropriately titled Teenage Things.

Lynn: Who are some of your musical influences?

Wood: You mean besides Brandy?

Lynn: [Laughs.] In addition to Brandy, of course!

Wood: Much of what inspires me comes from old songwriters like James Van Heusen, jazz standards, and old-school rhythm and blues.

Lynn: I can see that in the songs, for sure. Are there any other bands or producers or writers you are dying to collaborate with?

Wood: It ranges for different reasons. Like I said, songwriting is a major factor into what makes a good song to me. I love Sondre Lerche and Adam Schlesinger from Fountains of Wayne for those reasons. Smart, engaging production is also important to me; for that there's no higher genius than Jon Brion to me. But bands like Dr. Dog and Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin really know how to make albums that represent who they are as a band. I respect that a lot. That list can go on and on.

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Lynn: Back on the subject of your new record, do you have a favorite track on Blue Notes?

Wood: "Light" is a heavy hitter for me. I wrote it in my childhood bedroom last year when I was home for Christmas, had been dating the aforementioned boy, and the whole heading-back-to-where-you-grew-up-to-throw-your-life-into-perspective thing really hit me. It's just very raw and nostalgic for me.

Lynn: Yes! That song is beautiful. Are you ever shy about putting so much of yourself out into the world?

Wood: I used to be, yes. It is still a bit of a stretch. There are many songs I write and claim I will never let the world hear, but I'll end up going back to them later on and realizing the thing I was feeling at that moment, while very true and very personal, is so behind me that I don't feel so vulnerable in admitting it, you know? The honesty is part of what makes it a good song, a real song.

Lynn: Yes. I absolutely do know. Has the boy you've written these beautiful, heartbreaking songs about had the chance to hear them yet, or does that happen next week when the record hits stores?

Wood: Oh, he was the first. He actually loved it. I didn't even realize exactly how heartbreaking some of the songs were until I thought of him hearing them. I just kept thinking about how much this love had inspired me without thinking about what it was inspiring me to say. [Smiles.] There's always an unexpected learning curve with these things.

Lynn: There are moments on Blue Notes that remind me so much of some of my friends from the early days of the Portland indie music scene. I can see the same folks who dig Elliott Smith digging you, and all the indie gay boys are going to swoon.

Wood: Wow, thank you. I've been compared to Elliot Smith but sort of refuse to take that big of a compliment.

Lynn: You should just take it. Do you have any good fan stories?

Wood: I think the most exciting thing has been their surprise. They've all known it was recorded in a pretty D.I.Y. fashion, and because of that I think it exceeded their expectations at least a little bit.

Lynn: Also, the D.I.Y. bit is part of what makes everything sound so sweet. That's real. Now let's get deep up in here. What is your favorite thing about the world?

Wood: These kinds of questions kill me.

Lynn: I am trying to kill you, but you are getting off easy. I waited till the end. [Smiles.] Just tell me one thing you like about this Christ-forsaken world, goddammit! You don't get to only be vulnerable in your songs anymore. The public demands access to himz brainz!

Wood: [Laughs.] Ok! I'm a big fan of the age we're in and the ease of access we have to art. The music and art installments and illustrators who are getting such recognition in a way they would not have been able to before is pretty incredible. I'm grateful for that. So thanks to the World Wide Web.

Lynn: Yeah. I love me some Internetz, too. Along those same lines, if you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

Wood: I mean, besides world hunger and sexism and homophobia and every other form of evil we experience on a fairly regular basis, I just really wish that the public's view and acceptance of mayonnaise would chill the fuck out. It's infiltrating all of my favorite eateries.

Lynn: Preach! Before we get out of here, why should people listen to Blue Notes?

Wood: I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I put a lot of heart into this project. I think it's one thing I hear less and less in music these days, so if someone's listening and that is recognized, then having it around for a few more listens probably wouldn't hurt, right?

Lynn: Good answer. Personally, I think you should toot your own horn more. This record is great, and I hope the whole world hears it, Noah!

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To listen to Blue Notes, click here.

For more on Noah Daniel Wood, visit his website.

For more on Logan Lynn, visit his website or follow him on Facebook.

Michael Bublé Discusses Recording a Unique Christmas Album: "A Dream Come True and Years in the Planning"

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This question originally appeared on Quora.
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Answer by Michael Bublé, Grammy Winning Singer/Songwriter


It's no secret that I love the holidays, all the traditions and especially Christmas music, so for me creating my Christmas album was a dream come true and years in the planning. I thought about how and what I would record for on my Christmas album for ages. I always keep in mind how much these songs meant to me and still do to me and my family while I was growing up so when I went into the studio to make the record, I kept imagining how it would sound playing it surrounded by my family.

I played Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas" all year around. We decorated the recording studio - yes it was summertime -- but it was the perfect atmosphere to get into the holiday spirit.

This will be my new son's very first Christmas so he'll be the ultimate judge on how good a job I did when we play the album over the holidays. Let's hope he smiles or falls asleep. If he screams, I'm going to have to put on that Bing Crosby record instead

More questions on Music Production:

Art on the Hill Reimagining Dr. King's Dream

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This past summer, I stood on the northern grounds of The City College of New York, surrounded by large rectangular panels representing works from more than 90 visual artists. Some of the image makers had come to the sloping plaza to join me in celebrating the launch of "Joining Forces: Living Art on the Hill," an outdoor installation I curated to foster dialogue and growth among artists and art organizations and also inspire the revival of public arts in Harlem.



The hilltop site was once an open-air arena. In 1963 Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., known mostly for his organizing and activist efforts in the South and Washington, D.C., delivered a stirring commencement speech there, during a particularly tumultuous time in our nation's history: less than 24 hours after civil rights activist Medgar Evers was murdered in front of his home, the day following President Kennedy's televised address in support of King's civil rights bill and Gov. George Wallace upholding his "segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever" promise by blocking a doorway of the all-white University of Alabama, attempting to prevent two black students from entering.



I found myself transported back to the location of the former Lewisohn Stadium. As I looked out at the scene I saw people of all ages and races assembled to admire art, but it was easy to imagine City College graduates on the old field 50 years ago draped in their purple caps and gowns, looking towards the future and listening to King's soaring oratory alongside their families. King was trying out some of the themes that eventually found their way into his historic "I Have a Dream" speech two months later, including its impossible to forget ending: "With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood ... all of God's children ... will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'"



The concepts of freedom, equality and pride are just as inspiring and relevant today as ever, and because diversity of race, religion, culture, gender and age is front and center in this display I was cognizant of the unique opportunity I had to use its vibrant visuals to interpret the spirit of the civil rights era, and share it with new generations. I was challenged to do so because, as King said to CCNY graduates one balmy June evening half-century ago, "Human progress never rolls in on the wheels of inevitability. Human progress comes through the tireless efforts and the persistent work of dedicated individuals."



Dr. King was a man of vision, and seeing gorgeous images conceived and created by a multinational, cross-generational, rainbow assortment of emerging and established sculptors, photographers and painters on view and accessible to all is like a dream come true. I have always imagined a world where art is the joining force that builds collaborations. The nature of this force is creative, beautiful and imaginative and possesses the formula to heal nations. This kind of cooperation rarely takes place, and I was pleased to see the pieces reaching out and warmly greeting visitors to the City College campus.



"Joining Forces" attempts to transport guests through generations of extraordinary history and across continents, just as Dr. King did five decades ago. He offered another timely illustration of the old African proverb that echoes thorough this showcase: "Who we are is because of the many shoulders on which we stand."



For more information about "joining Forces: Living Art on the Hill" please visit http://www.ccny.cuny.edu/news/joining-forces-art-exhibit.cfm.

The Importance of Silence

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As a music reviewer, appreciator, and general fan-girl, my life is almost constantly surrounded by sound. Up until a few weeks ago, I lived in New York City, where anything close to silence feels uncomfortable and just plain wrong. The same can be said for my time spent in the office, where anything too quiet makes me squirm. I even sleep with a fan on at night for white noise. On my way into work, I put my headphones on to block out the world; while working, I listen to create my own.

But every Thanksgiving, I join my family, friends, and assorted others in what feels like one of the quietest places in the universe: Cape Cod in the winter. In their neighborhood, you're lucky if every fourth house is occupied during the colder months.

This year, I took my dog out for some air prior to the descent of a dozen relatives and relative strangers upon the homestead. What I was hoping would be a quick spin around the block turned into a much longer journey. Save for two people and a handful of cars, we didn't encounter anyone for most of our trip. It felt as those it was just my trusty canine and me, traveling through a post-apocalyptic world in which we'd eventually be on the hunt for other life-forms. But in that moment, we weren't really in a hurry to do so. In fact, the only really prominent sound was the lack thereof.

Sometimes, I think we don't realize how much noise encases us -- or defines us -- until we experience the exact opposite. Alone with your thoughts, it's a return to center. Daily we define who we are not as who we believe ourselves to be, but as how others perceive us (or worse, how we perceive others' perceptions). When there's no one left to tell you who you should or shouldn't be, it's an opportunity to discover who you really are.

In music, silence can be the most powerful tool available in an artist's repertoire. In the moment after a song ends, a listener is hanging on to the feeling of the number, with the last note ringing true only in his or her thoughts. In the moment before, a listener is full of anticipation, waiting for that first note to begin eagerly, ever hopeful.

But nothing is stronger, musically, than a break mid-number. Even just a quarter-note rest tricks the ear, shocks the system regardless of how many times its been heard before. It can set up a change or a breath, a climax or a fall. Silence can impart more emotion than a thousand notes or instruments, especially in contrast to the constant noise we've come to expect from our busy lives. And yet it seems to be used in music these days more rarely than ever before.

I'll continue to wear my headphones on my commute to work and in the office when a break in conversation leads to a period of silence, and I'll still turn on a fan for white noise to drown out my busy thoughts when it's finally time to sleep. But I will also remember this pure silence, and who I am when the noise dies down. And perhaps most importantly, I'll keep with me the power of pure nothing in contrast to the sheer everythingness of it all.
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