Culture Vulture

Yesterday, Ben told me about Casey's show at Bitforms. He said he had a piece in it himself. The opening was at six; I had told Lillian I'd meet her at seven for the Eames show at Design within Reach. As I was about to leave work, Ben said I should see Casey's show. I told him I would.

I took the train to 23rd and walked west, towards the river. The temperature seemed to drop with each step west. The gallery was almost by the water. The space was small but brightly lit, and I looked over the pieces, looking for Ben's. I couldn't find it. As I surveyed the people I tried to guess which might be Casey, and then it became apparent. I introduced myself and congratulated him on his show before rushing off. As I was leaving I ran into my neighbor, who remarked upon what a small world it was.

I arrived at Design within Reach just as it opened. Skyy vodka was sponsoring the event and so there were vodka cranberries and vodka grapejuice cocktails in the back. I grabbed a drink and snacked as I walked around the store looking for Lillian. People filtered in. I snagged a copy of Metropolis magazine and found a quiet corner to sit in. I overheard someone say that twelve people from the SoHo Vespa store were to show up.

Lillian soon arrived, Wei in tow. We repaired to the back of the store so they could grab drinks. I had a second as we stood and chatted. The space heated up and soon there was no room to maneouver. Wei brought over another round of drinks and then Lillian said it was time to go.

We walked east and then south. Lil wanted escagots. We settled for Japanese and found ourselves at Yama. We ate and drank tea and then walked east. Passing SoHo billiards, Wei decided he wanted to play pool. I was useless, knocking balls around. One of their friends arrived and they walked further east. I went home.

This morning I noticed that the Paul Taylor Dance Company was holding court at City Center. I had already planned to see the Thomas Demand exhibit at MoMA and decided to get tickets.

The Demand was oddly enchanting, the over-sized photographs as meticulous as his paper reconstructions, allowing one the ability to spot the little imperfections. Walking around the upper galleries, I toured the UBS collection before returning to the first floor to look at the prints and illustrated books.

I was set to meet Lin at five at Pier 54 on 13th street. And so I walked south, stopping by Minamoto Kitchoan for some Japanese sweets and then snacking on mandoo in Koreatown. I arrived half an hour early and ran into Sam, who was waiting in line with Elaine. We caught up as I waited, and then they went inside.

Lin had told me about Gregory Colbert's Ashes and Snow, a project documenting human interaction with animals in their natural environment (although I'm not sure how often you find cheetahs chilling on sand dunes). The installation is fantastic, housed in a nomadic museum designed by Shigeru Ban made out of shipping containers and paper tubes. The work itself is pretty, though it has the feel of the world music you hear in Starbucks. The prints are gorgeous.

As we walked through the exhibit, Lin asked me what certain animals were. Marmoset, I said. Lynx. Onyx. She wasn't sure about the latter; I wasn't sure about any of them. She asked what was up with my coming up with those animals. As if I had just returned from safari Elephants dominated, and sperm whales. Lin said she likes elephants.

Afterwards, we had Thai food in Chelsea market. And then it was time for me to go to City Center. They were to see The Glass Menagerie.

I had first read of Paul Taylor in high school. I remember a picture in the New York Times, dancers flying out from a point in the center as if they were the fragments of an explosion. He had just premiered Company B. I wondered at what the dance would have looked like. More than ten years later I would find out.

I wasn't as fond of the newer pieces this evening, though they had their moments. The closing piece, however, was Esplanade, which almost makes me cry at the end. As the music comes to its conclusion, the soloist, Lisa Viola turns and walks towards the audience, as if to embrace it. I fell in love with Viola's dancing the first time I saw her. It might have been in this very piece.

After the first round of ovations, the curtain rose and Mr. Taylor walked onstage. The crowd rose to its feet in appreciation. He bowed. The company bowed. He bowed again. The curtain fell and the audience emptied out into the street. Posted by eku at March 5, 2005 10:35 PM