Tell me why

NaBloPoMo Day N+1: I had planned to take the day off from posting, but I found something odd and entertaining when I turned to Google to help me answer a question on one of my job applications. The top ten Google suggestions (completions) for a search beginning with "Why...":

1. why do men have nipples?
   
2. why is the sky blue?
   
3. why is my poop green?
   
4. why do cats purr?
   
5. why do dogs eat grass?
   
6. why did the chicken cross the road?
   
7. why is there a dead pakistani on my couch?
   
8. why did i get married?
   
9. why do dogs eat poop?
   
10. why did michael jackson turn white?
    

I am not the first to discover this amusing quirk. A lot of interest in pets and poop it seems. Interestingly, the weirdness of #7 seems trigger additional Google searches, perpetuating its inclusion in the top ten list. Autocatalytic internet searches -- cool!

Kitty Litter

NaBloPoMo Day 30: Whew! We made it to the end of the month without breaking the posting streak (albeit with a bit of automated posting assistance over the holiday). Irregular posting shall resume shortly!

To finish off the month, I'll expand a bit on some of what we saw during our museum tour of NYC. Met, MoMA (Bauhaus rocks!), Guggenheim: we hit the big three (at least in my mind) art museums in the city. The main feature at the Guggen was an exhibition of Wassily Kandinsky's paintings and drawings, arranged chronologically from bottom to top along the spiral to illustrate the progression of the artist's expression. That exhibition (which we viewed from top to bottom) was magnificent -- c'est l'art!

Set off to the side of the Guggenheim's main spiral, about every other revolution, are smaller, conventionally rectilinear, nook-like galleries; these held non-Kandinsky works, two of which deserve special mention. The first, by Felix Gonzalez-Torres and Roni Horn, was a curtain of gold plastic beads hiding a sheet of gold foil on the floor, reminiscent of the cheesy countercultural interior design sensibilities of the late Sixties and early Seventies. I could see how it took the combined genius of two artistes to come up with that one.

Even more stunning was the Intervals installation by Heidelberg's favorite daughter Kitty Kraus.



Rather than doing her work injustice by attempting my own description, here are what must surely be her own words, since they appear accompany nearly every one of her exhibitions:

"Kraus works in a spare, elegiac vocabulary of monochrome forms and humble materials such as light bulbs, mirrors, ice, and cloth. While her sculptural installations at first recall the cool, geometric precision of Minimalist art, they possess an internal volatility that can prompt their gradual fragmentation or sudden collapse. The spirit of her practice is thus more aligned with the focus on process and alchemic transformation associated with Post-Minimalism ....

The trajectory of dissolution at the heart of Kraus’s work is encapsulated in her series of bulbs or microphones encased in blocks of frozen ink, in which the heat from the embedded electronic device gradually melts the ice, leaving only a residue of murky liquid pooled on the floor or trailing the gallery walls.

Likewise, her sculptures constructed from bulbs enclosed in mirrored glass boxes ... are sometimes calibrated so that the heat from the light source eventually shatters the casing.

As a young artist defining her career at the beginning of the 21st century-—a time of profound questioning and global crises-—Kraus rehearses the trend towards degradation and chaos known as entropy, finding a mournful beauty in the literal and symbolic failure of form."

I think that should read "the literal and symbolic failure of artistry." The retching sound you hear is me choking on the stench of bullshit. Intervals, more aptly titled "Stain on Floor with Broken Lightbulb" is just some unorganized trash in an otherwise empty room. Even the poor security guard posted in the gallery was embarrassed to be guarding that junk; he rolled his eyes knowingly when saw me look askance at the display. Without a doubt, Kitty Kraus is crap.

Apropos, I quote the wisdom of the shitmydadsays guy (albeit regarding science, not art):

"The whole world is fueled by bullshit… What? The kid asked me for advice on his science fair project so I’m giving it to him."

Amen, brother!

End of the line

NaBloPoMo Day 29: All good things must come to an end, even Thanksgiving holiday vacations in White Plains/NYC with the Sherwood clan. We returned to Boston this evening (first via the scenic but congested Merritt Parkway, which wends through some attractive, 'burbish areas of Connecticut, then via the torpid Mass Pike, a trip that lasted half again as long as the anticipated three hours -- the one positive note: NPR's Car Talk and Classics for Kids (American Composers with a Boston Connection) were playing on CT public radio. Easy puzzler this week.) just in time to grab a bite at the Jasmine Bistro, a French-Hungarian restaurant in our neighborhood which M. and I had often eyed but never tried until tonight's dinner. It was a somewhat somber supper, as we were not at all looking forward to saying our goodbyes and parting ways, but the Wiener Schnitzel and house red (a very smooth Argentinian Malbec) were delicious diversions before we wished my folks "Bon Voyage!" It was a wonderful, overdue holiday respite and, as always, a joy to spend some time with family and friends. If only it could last!

Back to work tomorrow; in the meantime, pleasant dreams of the terrific week that was!

This sentence no verb.

NaBloPoMo Day 28: On train from NYC to White Plains. Day in review: MoMA (M. student membership.) No Tim Burton exhibition. Bauhaus! Cezanne, Matisse, Picasso, Dias, etc. quite good. Jasper Johns, Jackson Pollock unimpressive. Book on WPA history. Art Students League. Art store. Columbus Circle mall. Hell's Kitchen. T. & H. visit. H. artist's home studio tour. Terrific talent. Dinner at Chinese restaurant, excellent. (Marlborough Riesling 2007 NZ good with Asian food.) Stuffed, happy. Good day! Ice cream later? (Sorry no links today.)

Cozy with Sarkozy

NaBloPoMo Day 27: Since the preponderance of tonight's dinnertable conversation (conducted between bites of succulent turkey leftovers and mouthfuls of creme brûlée pie) comprised fun French lessons with our French-Dutch-Belgian-New Yorker relatives, and as the postprandial entertainment is American television, it seems apropos to post a clip of classic American TV that's recently been wildly popular in France:

Nicolas Sarkozy et Carla Bruni dans les Simpson !

Stuff My Wife Says, Thanksgiving Edition

NaBloPoMo Day 26: "Why are you always reading the newspaper when we're talking? Why do you have to be antisocial? ... Yes, this is a vacation, but that doesn't mean it's your vacation!"

Happy Thanksgiving!

Eclectic Electric

NaBloPoMo Day 25: The following blog post has been pre-recorded ...

Following up on my previous post, I'd like to recommend a podcast for those whose tastes align with offerings of SomaFM: Just Good Music by Cez. This is a smooth monthly mix of house, ambient, funk and electronica that I really enjoy. When I was cranking out my dissertation in Milan in the wee, internet-free morning hours each day, Just Good Music provided the soundtrack. (How I Feel -- and Allen Toussaint's "Night People" (remixed) -- is great when you're still typing at four in the morning.)

The DJ seems to be from the Detroit/Chicago region and frequently has guest DJs put together a mix. Lots of good new (and old -- Ministry's "Work for Love", for example, shows up on Dave Siska of Sonic Sunset's Let's Go Lo-Fi) tracks. I admit I haven't yet bought any music from the featured artists, but were I to start buying music again I would use this podcast's tracklist as a starting point.

Returning to the question my friend posed: I like Aes Dana, whom I first heard on Space Station Soma, but they're hardly new.

Frisco radio

NaBloPoMo Day 24: We're scheduled to hit the road some time today, so I guess it behooves me to post a bit earlier than the stroke of midnight. A friend recently asked me in an email whether I'd found any good new music recently, a somewhat odd question for him to pose to me, for the transfer of musical knowledge between the two of us has always run in the other direction.

I don't buy much music anymore, though I might start again at some point, and I've largely stopped listening to music with vocals except at concerts and as treadmill accompaniment. Riding the T or walking the sidewalk I normally listen to podcasts (Bill Moyer's Journal, Planet Money) on my iPhone in order to catch up on news and commentary. But when coding at work (and occasionally at home) I frequently slip on my headphones to tune in to internet radio, especially when I need to aurally escape from the office hours being held by my officemates. Music with vocals is too distracting for me to listen to while programming, but usually avoid classical music while working because it only liminally registers when I'm concentrating and I feel as though I've missed something important when my consciousness drifts back to the music.

So I listen to various electronica, and SomaFM is my source: Groove Salad, Secret Agent, and Space Station Soma are my top choices, and I sometimes channel surf towards Beat Blender. This all-internet radio station based in San Fran has 18 channels (including two holiday music channels during the season) and a pretty wide variety of music, no commercials and no irritating DJs or stupid morning shows. I dig it.

Closed Mondays

NaBloPoMo Day 23: The folks were on vacation today, but for M. and I. it was just another working Monday, and having reached the end of it, we are completely pooped. (I recall a t-shirt I saw at MBI: Closed Mondays. Describes my brain.)

The nadir of my day was driving around Boston -- borrowing the rental car brought more frustration than convenience, for it takes even more time to drive from Boston to Waltham (or just about anywhere in electric Volt range around here) than it does to bike. The zenith was dinner at the Washington Square Tavern with M., my folks and our Obama pals T. & J. Mmmm ... fried pickles and steak frites .... Or perhaps the zenith was dessert at Athan's immediately afterwards. Hard to say. (Visits from my parents are always wonderful occasions for gustatory indulgence.)

(M. says that she found the conversation to be the most enjoyable aspect of the evening. (Point well made -- outings with T. & J. are always notable for the high level of conversation.) Yet again I am reminded that I married a superior woman! ;-)) (Yes, that is a double-chinned smiley; waist-watching and punitive cardiovascular routines shall commence post-haste post-Turkey feast!) (And yes, I like to write (and program) with (both) parentheses.)

We head to White Plains tomorrow, where internet is (thankfully) in short supply. Posting is forecast to be light and breezy for the remainder of the week; we'll see how well the iPhones do as blogging platforms.

Good eats, new treats

NaBloPoMo Day 22: Today we chauffeured my folks around Beantown (in their rental minivan -- we normally don't drive around here) to see a couple of the sights: The Harvard Museum of Natural History (the glass flowers in particular) and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. M. and I had already visited both museums (with J. & M. acting as our chauffeurs and tour guides), but at each place we discovered something new.

The HMNH is fabulous, and the glass flowers and minerals are spectacular, but so are the permanent collections of dinosaur skeletons, petrified bacteria, and (preserved) mammals, reptiles, birds, amphibians, and fish. There seemed to be acres of exhibits to explore, and M. and I vowed to return soon to take it all in. Science Sundays, anyone?


Each piece at the IGSM is of very fine quality, yet the impression left by the collection of art and architecture in toto is shaded more towards quirk and charm than refinement and exquisiteness. One gets a sense that Isabella was a woman possessed of fine taste, great sensitivity, wide curiosity, and deep pockets, but somehow lacking a system (remember Sammy Jankis ...). As appropriate for being her former home, the ISGM feels more like a museum about Isabella than a museum of art -- but it is nonetheless beautiful and not to be missed. We arrived in the late afternoon, and we discovered that part of the second floor of the museum (the Tapestry Room, past where the sketches by Dürer and Rembrandt are kept) was closed to visitors due to the weekly concert. We stood close to the concert chamber entrance (just past the sketches) and could hear a few strains of angelic singing. Choral music afficianados that we are (becoming), we'll have to get tickets some time.

The day's highlight, though (as least for me), was brunch (with Dr. J.) at Henrietta's Table, an all-you-can-eat locavore gourmet extravaganza. Pricey, but delicious. I ate three (restrained) courses, trying to get a taste of everything. Verdict: herrlich! (And the waitstaff didn't hurry us out the door but let us enjoy the meal and the opportunity to talk.) We shall definitely return for more gustatory enjoyment (when the folks are around to treat us)!