MEMETERIA by Thomas May

Music & the Arts

All Joy of the Worm

Cleopatra Bitten by the Asp, Guido Reni

Cleopatra Bitten by the Asp, Guido Reni

“I wish you all joy of the worm,” says the Clown bearing a fatal asp just before the final climax of Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. What a strange scene – a clown, with all his Shakespearean-fool punnery, malapropisms, and word games.

And there’s no equivalent of the Bard’s source, Plutarch. What to make of the tone, the odd insistence on the image of the “worm”?

Richard F. Whalen deciphers evidence for the theory that Shakespeare was really the Earl of Oxford: “‘worm’ in French is ‘ver’ — and, of course, the Earl of Oxford’s family name was de Vere.”

Others perceive Masonic symbolism.

In her biography of a few years ago, Stacy Shiff reminds us of Cleopatra’s own identification with an asp:

Cleopatra unsettles more as sage than as seductress; it is less threatening to believe her fatally attractive than fatally intelligent. (Menander’s fourth-century adage — ‘A man who teaches a woman to write should recognize that he is providing poison to an asp’ — was still copied out by schoolchildren hundreds of years after her death.

But what of the Clown’s phallic punning?

From the ending of Ted Hughes’s poem Cleopatra to the Asp:

Drink me, now, whole, with coiled Egypt’s past
Then from my delta swim
Like a fish toward Rome.

Filed under: Shakespeare

Uplifting

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Reviewing cultural historian Andreas Bernard’s Lifted: A Cultural History of the Elevator, David Trotter singles out the role of individualized control:

The clue to the elevator’s significance lies in the buttons that adorn its interior and exterior. Its automation, at the beginning of the 20th century, created a system of electronic signalling which brought the entire operation under the control of the individual user. In no other mode of transport could a vehicle be hailed, directed and dismissed entirely without assistance, and by a touch so slight it barely amounts to an expenditure of energy. The machine appears to work by information alone. Elevators, Bernard says, reprogrammed the high-rise building. It might be truer to say that they reprogrammed the people who made use of them, in buildings of any kind.

There were, as Trotter points out, many revolutionary consequences: making the skyscraper possible, the “recodification of verticality” (Bernard) — meaning the migration of the “top” class hotel rooms from the bottom literally to the top — the influence on urban planning, etc.

But for all these more or less obvious transformations, Trotter also refers to the elevator’s uncanny symbolic significance in modern life:

Safety first was not so much a motto as a premise. No wonder that the closest high-end TV drama has come to Sartrean nausea is the moment in “Mad Men” when a pair of elevator doors mysteriously parts in front of troubled genius Don Draper, who is left peering in astonishment down into a mechanical abyss. The cables coiling and uncoiling in the shaft stand in for the root of Roquentin’s chestnut tree.

Filed under: book recs, cultural criticism, urban planning

Mégalithisme

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Filed under: photography

Mis-en-scène

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Filed under: photography

Koonsian Therapy

Jeff Koons, Tulips, 1995–98; private collection © Jeff Koons

Jeff Koons, Tulips, 1995–98; private collection © Jeff Koons

Reviewing the current Jeff Koons retrospective at the Whitney, Hal Foster observes that “his readymades have as much to do with display, advertising and publicity as with the commodity per se.”

Notwithstanding Koons’s declaration that “my work is meant to liberate people from judgment,” Foster points to the “kitschy curios of the ‘Banality’ series,” finding that “we are not released from judgment so much as invited to entertain a campy distance from lowbrow desires or even a snobbish contempt for them.”

Ultimately, though, the Pop-infused aesthetic credo that drives Koons

fits in well with the therapy culture long dominant in American society (the only good ego is a strong ego, one that can beat back any unhappy neurosis), but it also suits a neoliberal ideology that seeks to promote our “self-confidence” and “self-worth” as human capital –- that is, as skill-sets we are compelled to develop as we shift from one precarious job to another. When the perfectly presented boy in “The New Jeff Koons” looks into the future, perhaps what he sees is us.

Jerry Saltz reflects:

We live in an art world of excess, hubris, turbocharged markets, overexposed artists, and the eventocracy, where art fairs are the new biennials. Shows like this cost millions of dollars to mount; once they’re up, mass audiences will gawk at the “one of the world’s most expensive living artists.” It becomes a giant ad, and the spectacle of more of Koons’s work up at auction awaits.
[…]
As perfectly executed as “A Retrospective” is, it’s also a culmination, a last hurrah of this era —- even as the era keeps going. It is the perfect final show for the Whitney’s building.

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Filed under: aesthetics, art exhibition

Seattle’s Impending BeckettFest

Beckett

So a major festival devoted to Samuel Beckett is about to launch: indeed, a several-month-long, city-wide focus on a playwright and writer who happens to be one of my favorites. Enlisted in the undertaking are no fewer than 15 arts organizations based in Seattle.

Why has this been so poorly publicized?! Already I can see so many opportunities for other collaborations here — with the Seattle Chamber Players, for example — or with relevant groups who likewise know nothing about this. I happened to run across a notice of the opening event by chance: Life = Play at West of Lenin, starting August 14.

Anyway, I wanted to quickly bring this to the attention of local folks and of anyone planning to visit Seattle over the coming months: “The festival, which runs from August through November, features not only the plays (such as Waiting for Godot, Endgame, Krapp’s Last Tape, Act Without Words parts I & II, etc.), but also readings of Beckett’s poetry and prose, screenings of his films, master classes on Beckett, pop-up performance events, presentations of the radio plays, and more.”

Buckets of Beckett. When it rains, it pours. No, it does not rain; it does not pour.

Filed under: Samuel Beckett, theater

Seattle Chamber Music Festival Closes on an Elegiac Note

My review of the concluding concert of the 2014 Summer Festival is now on Bachtrack:

The days are starting to grow noticeably shorter in the Pacific Northwest, and the end of the month-long Seattle Chamber Music Society Summer Festival brings yet another wistful reminder that we’re now facing the season’s inexorable downward slope. An immersive atmosphere of four weeks of three concerts each (plus free prelude recitals and additional events) gives the festival much of its flavour, making one all the more reluctant to bid adieu.

It’s been a month especially generous in discoveries, from the world première of an imaginatively crafted single-movement piano trio commissioned from Derek Bermel (with the Saramago-inspired title Death with Interruptions) to a welcome dose of vocal chamber music gems and other rarities mixed in with more standard fare.

On Saturday night the festival drew to a close with a typically diverse roster of musicians (totalling 15 over the course of the concert).

continue reading

Filed under: Beethoven, chamber music, review

Sundial

Horas non numero nisi serenas.

Horas non numero nisi serenas.

Filed under: photography

Pick-Up Poetry

Thomas May's avatarMEMETERIA by Thomas May

&quot;Back from the cordial grave I drag thee&quot; “Back from the cordial grave I drag thee”

Poetry’s ties with romance are ageless, but nowadays the connection tends to evoke sappy clichés and, at worst, Hallmark card-style confections. So why not add some panache by filling your quiver with lines from the great poets?

Or maybe not… Over at The Hairpin, Lizzy Straus recently compiled a list of first lines from Emily Dickinson poems not likely to be very useful as pickup lines. These especially should probably be excluded from your speed-dating repertoire:

144 – I never hear the word “Escape”
260 – I’m nobody! Who are you?
303 – Alone I cannot be
332 – Doubt me! My dim companion!
336 – Before I got my eye put out
339 – I like a look of agony
407 – One need not be a chamber to be haunted
456 – A prison gets to be a friend

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Filed under: Uncategorized

Glorified One

Glorified One, Leo Kenney (1945)

Glorified One, Leo Kenney (1945)

I was intrigued by the Stravinsky connection in this painting, currently on display as part of Seattle Art Museum’s Modernism in the Pacific Northwest: The Mythic and the Mystical. Leo Kenney (1925-2001), a native of Spokane, belonged to the second generation of the Northwest School of painters.

He referred to “The Glorification of the Chosen One” section from Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring as the inspiration for Glorified One.

Writes the curator Patricia Junker: “Yet Kenney was well-versed in Christian scripture and might just as well have been invoking the idea of resurrection in the post-apocalyptic second coming of Christ. A creature appears to live within stone, the one remaining sign of life in a landscape of complete destruction, perhaps a symbol of hope — or it may represent the final sacrifice to plead for peace and renewal.”

The enormous influence of Stravinsky’s score on other composers — which continues to this very moment — is well documented. Associations between this period of his work and the “primitivism” and Cubism of his colleague Pablo Picasso are also frequently discussed in a more general way (usually in terms of their putative influence on the music rather than the other direction). But I’m curious now about how the music of Sacre specifically influenced particular visual artists. Any other candidates?

Filed under: art exhibition, painters, Stravinsky

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