Missy | December 30, 2005
…not on the year gone by, but of the mirror variety. Or, New Lens Part II, Trial & Error:
Self portrait in a closed-up storefront on Broadway between Broome & Grand; Ezra looking like a cat burglar in a dance studio mirror
Missy | December 27, 2005
Today I was going to go to the eye doctor–no appointment necessary!–but I couldn’t find my last prescription. Funny, that, because I did find my prescription from my eye doctor in Pennsylvania when I was in grad school, the prescription I couldn’t find the last time I went to have my eyes checked in DC, since I seem to go every three or four years and assume my eyes (as well as my taste in frames) change. This time, however, I didn’t feel like coughing up the money for new lenses if they don’t need updating (though my insurance probably covers some or all of it, if I’d bother to check). Because I just splurged on a new Sharp AQUOS tv. And because if I wear my current glasses, I can see that tv just fine.
So instead, I decided to practice my long-ignored flute. Ten minutes later, when my hands began to cramp up, I decided to test out my new 50mm/1.8 lens.
What I once could do.
That’s part of an easy section of a piece I learned when I was seventeen. Those are my teacher’s markings. I can count just fine but I did–and still do, when I dance–choose to ‘count’ with my internal, often syncopated metronome, which is somewhat out of whack. Hey, Billie Holiday did it, too.
Missy | December 23, 2005
So this transit strike ends and then I have my own personal transportation hell to deal with. But I’m not even going to get into that because I need to wind down before going (back) to the airport tomorrow morning for a 6am flight. My toothbrush is already in Cleveland, though.
In the meantime, I can’t possibly recommend the Rauschenberg Combines exhibit at the Met enough. (My exposure to Rauschenberg has come only as casual glimpses through his collaboration with dancers such as Merce Cunningham and Trisha Brown.) More here and here.
Missy | December 20, 2005
Being a blogger, I photographed my commute to & from work today.
Walkers, Brooklyn Bridge
I actually didn’t mind my walks today and neither did most of the people I encountered. Their walks, I mean. Not mine. What? Too many negatives.
Night scenes, Brooklyn Bridge
I have to say, if you’ve never walked the Brooklyn Bridge at night, it’s really something. On the way home, listening to the ashy-voiced minimalist hip-hop of MF Doom, I sort of felt like Forest Whitaker in an Abel Ferarra film.
Missy | December 13, 2005
Everybody’s talking about the looming deadline (Thursday midnight) for the MTA-transit union negotiations and the threat of a strike. Personally? I can’t freaking WAIT for a twice-daily, hour-long walk across the Brooklyn Bridge in frigid weather. Stuff me in one of those unflatteringly puffy but undoubtedly warm head-to-floor-length down coats and send me on my way.
UPDATE 12/20:
Yep. Strike. The city is a mess. Fortunately, I can telecommute (for now), though I may be walking the next couple of days. Thank goodness I’ve got time off come end of day Thursday.
UPDATE: Trying to connect to our network with all of the other telecommuters proved too painful for me and so I ended up walking to work. Wasn’t so bad. I didn’t care for the television crews set up to greet me on the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge, but I was pleasantly surprised to see a Red Cross truck set up. I think they were even serving coffee. Even though I flew like the wind (and my shins are paying for it now), I didn’t stop for the complimentary beverages but I did manage to get a few pictures along the way. They’ll be up later.
Missy | December 12, 2005
I was reading New York’s Best Of lists today and, frankly, all-encompassing lists like the ones contained therein make a lowly blogger like me wonder how I can possibly compete–even when my tastes are decidedly different (if less expansive among all the arts) and my wordplay is so staggeringly…well, okay, so I’m no Chuck Stephens or (insert any other colorful writer here). My point is, why pay attention to me? Because these things are fun to read and disagree with, that’s why.
That said, it’s time to start picking out some things that caught my eyes and ears this year even though it’s still too soon for me to craft any big lists. Today’s installment may just bore the crap out of you, but give it a shot. And now that I’ve killed all suspense with an excruciatingly long intro, I’ll just get to it.
My favorite piece of arts-related writing: Sasha Frere-Jones in the November 11 issue of The New Yorker. Let me explain. I love rap and hip-hop, but let’s be honest here: half the time I really don’t know what’s going on with the genre. And when I read SF/J’s piece, I felt like I knew exactly what to expect with this thing called the Houston rap scene, even if I hadn’t heard a lick of it. More importantly, I was excited to hear it. To wit:
Missy | December 10, 2005
I have something for you to try. Humor me.
Stand up and reach your hands & arms as high as you can above your head, not worrying about posture, hunched shoulders or anything. Now touch your chin to the ground with whatever way you need to get to the floor. (Careful, don’t split your chin.) Now touch the back of your head to the ground. Stand up. Repeat 49 more times at roughly 3 second intervals.
This is your warm-up, a prelude if you will, to two hours of ass-kicking.
(This then prompted a discussion of the idea of a minimalist video installation experiment–how would an audience react to say, a loop of people voluntarily doing something like this 250 times? Would someone in the video puke? Would someone in the audience become anxious, if not nauseous? Would another viewer be soothed by the repetition–physically brutal as it may be–like minimalist music? Ignoring the physical movement, how do the faces of the people in the video change–laughter to exhaustion to laughter to disgust to second wind to stomach-churning green to joyously heaving, breathing jaws? And do the faces register the same thing at the same time?)
Anyway, I now need a steak with a big side of juicy burger. My muscles are quivering. You could wring the lactic acid out of me like a wet sponge.
Missy | December 9, 2005
A portion of my commute to work. Photos taken with my Digital Elph.
Blurry boots.
St. Paul’s Chapel, across from the WTC site between Church & Broadway.
Missy | December 4, 2005
If you have seen, have intentions to see, or merely have an interest in Bodies: The Exhibition, I encourage you to go read Mihow’s experience, written by the eternally curious.
Speaking of bodies, I saw Miguel Gutierrez and the Powerful People on Thursday at Dance Theater Workshop. It’s an arresting meta piece: a reflection on one’s own work and choice of career, self-consciousness and exposure (both the literal and figurative), and a nimble ability to make fun of oneself.
Also, I’ve been Flickring a bit, in case you haven’t happened by in a while.
UPDATE: I think I laughed for about five straight minutes over this. (Via A Brooklyn Life by way of Gawker.)
