KC Symphony: Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini with Bezhod Abduraimov

Last year, since we were having a baby, we considered letting our season tickets to the symphony lapse, but we knew that existing season subscribers would get first dibs at seats in the brand new and highly acclaimed Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts for this year. So we kept our subscription, even during the year that we were too absorbed by new baby to make it to all the performances. 

And now, the 2011-2012 season is here we have really good seats. Last weekend was actually our second time in Helzberg Hall; two weeks ago we enjoyed our first performance in the acoustically superb concert hall - the Kansas City Chorale perform Brahms' Requiem. But I've really been looking forward to last weekend's performance featuring pianist Behzod Abduraimov - he played Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini and he was just as amazing as I had hoped him to be. A virtuoso on a virtuosic piece inspired by a virtuoso. 

If what they are saying about Helzberg Hall is true, then Abduraimov's performance would have sounded fantastic from any seat in the house. But I heard it from just one seat very close to the stage. Close enough to see the red blemishes on the undersides of the viola players jaws, close enough to see the price sticker on the bottom of the second violinist shoe, close enough to see the wrinkle in the tails of Michael Stern's tuxedo jacket, close enough to see the beads of sweat flying off of Bezhod Abduraimov's brow while he played. I had a perfect line of site to the underside of the piano and a bit of debris on the floor and Abduraimov's feet, which - call me crazy - were fun to watch as they were just as expressive as the rest of him, which is very expressive indeed.  

A Visit from Mom and Dad (aka "Honey and Papa")

Everyday when I come home, Julia is so excited to see me - she pumps her arms and kicks her legs and squeals a little bit. It's a good feeling. Another good feeling is going to pick up my parents at the airport for a weekend visit. Upon finally spotting my dad through all the people, I waved a reserved but happy "Hello!" from a distance - but on the inside, make no mistake, I was pumping my arms and kicking my legs and squealing a little bit. It is good to see my folks.

"Hey everybody! It's Papa!"

The main purpose of the trip, of course is undefined and general quality time. And we had lots of that. But we did some specific things, too. We were at the Nelson-Atkins almost all day Saturday, which turned out to be Slow Art Day (who knew!?). I think we complied with the name of the day - if not the official rules of the event - by taking our sweet time traipsing through the place. The Original Rules of Basketball was our first destination, though an installation in progress, some Dutch paintings, and this English owl stopped us on our way.

Owl Jug, England, 1670-1710, lead-glazed slipware; I stopped to look at it on behalf of Ju

lia Minerva

Dad and James Naismith

We arrived at - and enjoyed - the Rules exhibit, then dined at the Rozelle Court. By this part of

our day, Sergio had rejoined us, having excused himself for the morning to participate in Record Store Day (so much to experience on April 16!). He told us all about his lucky finds. After lunch we slowly made our way to the simple but stunning Monet exhibit (together again for the first time in 30 years!) - a must see. Truly.

in the Bloch building, capturing the moment, just before entering the Monet exhibit, where no photography was allowed

April 15 was a notable day as well. Dad remembered that it was Tax Day of 1979 when he and mom, who was pregnant with me, moved into the house I was to grow up in. Then, fast forward 32 years and it's Tax Day 2011 and Mom, Dad, Julia and I are in the lobby of the Plaza library listening to Julia intentionally say "Mama" for the first time. A milestone! Granted, she doesn't know who "mama" is or that "mama" is even a person. But still - she mimicked my mom saying it and it was clearly a milestone moment - just one key step beyond the "muhmuhmuhmuh" that'd she mustered up on occasion before.

Julia saying "mama"

Nothing to celebrate or observe on April 17 (that we knew of) - it was just a leisurely Sunday and a comfortable lunch and quality time and nice weather and chatting and holding Julia - every moment worth savoring before having to send Mom/"Honey" and Dad/"Papa" off again to catch their plane. I can't wait to see them again.

"Hooray for Honey and Papa!"

Beto and Lindsey's Visit (a photo essay)

...and 100% cute at the Eat Local and Organic Expo in Shawnee

The last night of Sergio's beer project - we celebrated by welcoming his cousin and his wife - Beto and Lindsey - who came to KC for yet another wonderful visit.

We managed to eek into a tour at the Boulevard Brewery at the last minute - it was such a fun treat.

Beto and Lindsey are photographers and these are just some of the amazing pictures they took.

This one in particular is a personal favorite of mine.

A Study in Orange, 2011

KC Symphony: Ravel's Spanish Rhapsody, Plus Shostakovich

Last night we went to the symphony for the first time this season, having been otherwise occupied last fall. We called on Sergio's sister to watch Julia for us; to have a trusted family member near by who can watch our baby while we enjoy some live music is, I realize, a priceless opportunity. But priceless though it may be, we tried to offer some payment for her generosity by bringing dinner over before hand to say thanks. And so together we enjoyed delicious take out from Cupini's and some nice dinnertime conversation, including the most recent escapades of Emilio the Great, our 15-month old nephew who (like many his age) has a penchant for trouble. Recently he managed to pull down a lamp, paint a small space of wall with Vaseline, and ruin an alarm clock with milk - all in the space of five minutes and all from the comfort of his crib.

It was precisely this destructive but hilarious mini-rampage that I was imagining during the brief, rambunctious first piece of the evening - the Interlude from La boda de Luis Alonso, a zarzuela by Jerónimo Giménez - which was six minutes of delightfully raucous and rowdy music that seemed like a fitting soundtrack to Emilio's adorable tirade, as I imagined it.

Adding to the energy of the evening was Giancarlo Guerrero, a memorable return guest conductor, whose excitement and charisma evoked rollicking giggles from the man in the seat next to me.

After Sinfonía No. 4 by Roberto Sierra, a curious but very new piece, it was time for intermission and I was disappointed to discover that after 31 minutes of symphonic works, the music playing in my head was the tinny little song from the frog toy hanging in Julia's carseat. Go figure. I couldn't get her off my mind so I called Christy to check in. I got the feeding/diaper/sleep report just as the end-of-intermission bell was ringing and we scuttled back to our seats to prepare for Alisa Weilerstein on Cello playing Shostakovich's Concerto No. 2 in G Major for Cello and Orchestra.

As I've said before, I'm not a huge fan of Shostakovich, but I try to be open-minded and so I started reading about the piece in the program. It went a little something like this - "... at the center of the Concerto stands a cheeky scherzo in the sardonic and bitingly witty vein - let's see, if Julia had a new diaper at 7:30 then I guess she wouldn't need a new diaper until - a wistful, limpid motive in rocking 6/8 meter; a martial theme in leaping intervals; and a hymnal phrase in slower tempo - so if she's asleep right now and she just ate she'll probably be fine until--wait , what time do we get out here?" So on and so forth. So I gave up reading and decided just to listen instead.

The Shostakovich was ... how shall I put it? Just really, really sad. I'm not just saying that because I managed to read just enough of his bio to learn about his failing health and his time in a sanatorium. The whole thing was just all mournful and sort of defiant. I'm not complaining, mind you. An evening of live orchestral music - no matter how mournful - is a welcome break from the constant hum of Julia's blow dryer white noise and 24/7 NPR (my own comforting white noise, I guess).

Ms. Weilerstein, interpreted this mournful concerto adeptly and passionately. I decided to focus on her performance and let my mind go - instead of letting the emotion of the piece get to me and send me to all the anxious places in my imagination - and I found myself wondering if it's hard to play the cello if you are nine months pregnant which Ms. Weilerstein is not but - what can I say? - I still have baby on the brain.

The evening ended with a bit more wild rumpus in the form of Rapsodie Espagnole, written by Maurice Ravel while he was living hermit-like on a boat, which somehow seems relevant when you hear the piece, especially the part at the beginning that he described at "voluptuously drowsy." This Spanish rhapsody was a nice book end to the zarzuela that started the evening and by the time we left, right on time to pick up Miss Julia, the tinny little toy frog music was - at last - looooong gone.

Yann Martel

About 5 years ago, I came home to find a delivery from amazon.com on my doorstep. As I hadn't actually ordered anything and it wasn't my birthday, the box was a bit of a mystery. Until I opened it and found a note on the packing slip from my friend Lauren that said something like, "I just read this book and really want to talk about it with someone. I thought you might like it too..." The book was Life of Pi by Yann Martel.

I've had people suggest books to me, perhaps loan books to me. But I'd never had someone make a recommendation by actually purchasing a copy of a book for me. I suspected it was truly a must read. So I read it. And it was.

The curious illustration of a silhouetted boy in a life boat with a tiger, turned out to represent one of the most profound stories I've ever read in my life. And here I thought it was just going to be a book about a kid and a vicious animal. Never judge a book ...

I have been in constant awe of Life of Pi (and Yann Martel) ever since and have recommended it to everyone I know. (Perhaps I should be buying them all a copy as well). Martel hadn't published anything since that book - until this year when his latest, Beatrice and Virgil, was released. So he's on book tour now, and came to Kansas City this month, (thanks to Rainy Day Books and the KC Public Library) and, as you might imagine, I was there. With bells on.

He was as compelling a speaker as he is a writer. And I was amazed at how broadly instructive and enlightening his talk was - even when he spent a lot of time talking about the new book which I haven't even read yet. He did discuss Life of Pi, sharing (among other things) that the zoo, a significant plot element, seemed to him to represent the parameters that religion provides, versus the vast, wide, and - for some - uncomfortable freedom of secularity.

I am realizing that Life of Pi deserves another read. And, after Martel read for us the stunning section of his new book where the monkey (Virgil) tries to describe to the donkey (Beatrice) precisely what a pear is like, I am anxious to read Beatrice and Virgil too. Well, anxious, but hesitant, due to some contentious reviews of the disturbing nature of the latter 1/3 of the text.

In answer to the queries about the way his new book ends, he explained his goal as a writer is to be both "entertaining and elevating." Though I can't vouch for B & V (yet), L of P certainly hits that mark perfectly.

KC Symphony - Simone Dinnerstein

It's been so gray and dreary today. Wet enough to feel like spring, but down right cold for May. After being out all day, I came home and was pleased to stay nice, warm, and dry in my apartment for a little while. I kind of wanted to stay here the rest of the night, but we had tickets to the symphony. We haven't been in many weeks and tonight's guest soloist was Simone Dinnerstein, and I've been looking forward to her performance all season long. So even though I kind of wanted to stay in, I went out.

The four pieces on the docket tonight were Schubert, Mahler, Mozart, and Strauss - all Viennese, each so distinct. Dinnerstein played the Mozart piece - Piano Concerto No. 21. Before she came on stage, wearing a watery, fluttering blue and purple iridescent gown, I had been reading in the program that this concerto, when it was written and performed in 1785 "held an expressive undercurrent that would not continue to please the Viennese public" and that they were "bewildered by this music and its incipient Romanticism."

Romanticism. They say that like it's a bad thing, but it was precisely these things that I loved about this piece - and that I have always loved about the second movement of this piece, a movement I know so well and always associate with spring. Every time I hear the music of the second movement, I think of rainy spring. Which might explain why the first and third movements also fit so well with the weather today, too. The entire piece is rich with emotion and felt so right on a night like this.

And as for Ms. Dinnerstein - her performance was so expressive and varied, both clear and complex, indeed as iridescent as she was.

Weekend with Mom and Dad

Mom and Dad came for a visit last weekend - a great visit. Mom and I shopped for maternity clothes on Friday; on Saturday we went to the KCCUA Transplant Sale to buy some vegetables, to check out the farm and to admire the transplants.

Kansas City Center for Urban Agriculture

Mom, Dad and me at KCCUA

transplants

Dad and his transplant

Even though it would be days before he got back home, Dad decided to buy a tomato plant - a Zapotec Pleated Tomato plant. We will call it the Miracle Zapotec Pleated Tomato plant if it stays healthy all the way back to OKC. I am optimistic it will and I look forward to trying the pleated, ruffled, pink-red flesh of the fruits that it will bear.

Mattie Rhodes

After the transplant sale - where we bought tons of fresh spring vegetables - we went to have crepes for brunch at Chez Elle on the Westside. It was a beautiful, sunny day so we took a walk through the neighborhood stopping in at Mattie Rhodes gallery, taking a gander at the Herb'n Gardner's urban farm, and picking up some agua de jamaica, agua de tamarindo, and diet coke at the Los Alamos market.

spring outside of blue bird bistro

peaking over the wall at the Herb'n Gardener's Urban Farm
(CSA SHARES STILL AVAILABLE for 2010!)

At home that night we made a big stir fry with all our vegetables from KCCUA - turnips (white and red), carrots, pak choi, bok choi, and turnip greens. Plus some well-preserved green beans from my freezer. After dinner we put up the big screen and watched The Botany of Desire - the fabulous PBS film version of Michael Pollan's book - and had popcorn with kale chips (more on the kale chips).

stir fry

Sunday came too soon and the weekend ended. Time to plan the next visit.

Broke-ology

This is the last weekend of the KC Rep's production of Broke-ology, which has been highly acclaimed over the last few weeks. Lots of folks were saying lots of good things about it, so we decided to catch it before it ended. And I'm so glad we did.

The story is set in present day Kansas City, Kansas and is about a poor African American family - an aging and ill father, two twenty-something sons, and just the memory of their mother. The location is close to where I live, yet the circumstances couldn't be further away from my world, so I went expecting something unfamiliar.

And yet the story hit home, big time, and I found myself crying like a baby. You don't have to be a trying-to-make-ends-meet black man from KCK to recognize the power of generational transitions, of aging, and of the abrading passage of time. A suburban born-and-raised, pregnant white woman can feel that loud and clear. And anyone who loves their family will feel something too.

Around the World

I'm making some travel plans for later this year and so I have traveling on the brain. Which flight should we take? How many PTO days will I need to use? What will the weather be like? What should I pack? Will my iPhone work in Baja California? Many uncertainties that I'm still working out for my own travel plans - which put me in a welcoming frame of mind to watch Around the World in 80 Days at the KC Repertory Theater tonight, in which life and traveling seems fundamental and simple.

Especially as portrayed with such a minimally appointed set, the journey of Phileas Fogg appeared to me pleasantly plain in its planning - but exciting all the same. Fogg and his valet, Passepartout, packed light, carrying just two carpet bags, some cash, and a little red book called the Bradshaw which lists time tables for ships and trains. With his penchant for mathematical precision, Fogg makes all the arrangements as he goes, never miscalculating, never erring.

Most welcoming of all, Fogg was so unscathed by the uncertainties of planning, the uncertainties of nineteenth century global travel, no less. I love the character of Fogg, so indefatigable, so constantly poised, so firm. When faced with even the most absurd set backs - an unfinished railroad, a warrant for his arrest - Fogg remains unflapped.

And here I am wasting a lot of energy on worrying that three months from now I might forget to bring the battery charger for my camera.

I'm sure the caricature of Fogg is meant to invite derision - I mean who could be so dry and intent as to ignore all the wonders of the world as they pass you by, no matter what kind of deadline you're on? - but I found his detachment sort of appealing. Of course, Passepartout is his foil - in awe of the sites along the way and inevitably getting into a couple of scrapes along the way.

But wouldn't it be nice to traverse even just a tiny little corner of the world with both Fogg's calm and Passepartout's verve? I think so.

Paul Mesner Puppets: "The Nativity"

All these years I've lived in here (well, only 8 years but still) and I had never seen Paul Mesner Puppets until today. Our friends were in the show this weekend; Sergio's family is here and we were looking for fun things to do; we had a Christmas fund to spend from Sergio's grandmother. So we all made our way to Grace and Holy Trinity Cathedral to see the Paul Mesner Puppets troupe (at last!) in "The Nativity." They were wonderful.

Are they puppets or marionettes? We wondered. But they seem like something unto themselves to me. Greater than full size ... taller than tall ... eyes of unusual size. The arms and fabric billow. The heads bobble ever so gently. The bodies sway in the space above the audience as they walk down the aisle. And for humor the sheep poke their heads into the crowd and go "baaaaaa" and the camels lean over and spit. "Putoey!"

When not being funny, the larger than life characters are mostly surreal and other worldly towering over us like figures in a dream. A good dream. In fact if I could hire the Paul Mesner Puppets troupe to star in my dreams every night and portray the contents of my subconscious, I think I would.

Harriman Jewell Series: Lang Lang

The next time the fantastic Harriman Jewell Series brings Lang Lang (pronounced lahng lahng) to town, you should buy tickets as soon as possible because they will probably sell out and if you want to sit up close and personal with the performer, you'll need to act fast. However, if you are too slow or too thrifty to get those primo spots, don't worry - Lang Lang has enough noticeable personality for everyone from the front row to the back.

I was in the third from the last row last night and even from there this pianist's flair was clear. Before he sat down at the instrument, he waved a slow hello to the applauding audience and I could see, from all the way up top, his perfect specimen hands, equipped with broad palms, his fingers spread open and spaced inordinately wide. He is, perhaps, a different species of human, especially outfitted with hands and skill that are adapted specifically for the musical environment. But then - his talent is far more than just physical capability.

His skill is as wide spread as his fingers - when he plays, he is the butterfly alighting on a blossom and the heavy, ripe, plump fruits kerplunking onto the ground - he is the tinkling brook off to the side and the raging storms up above - he is the feather duster and the boulder. Whatever he asks of the instrument, it supplies.

Both Lang Lang and the piano seemed so small from way up in the nose bleed section. But as the evening continued - past both of the Beethovens, through the Albéniz, and into the Prokofiev the grand piano receded while Lang Lang grew large, a force to be reckoned with. Even from the back of Folly Theater.

My Birthday

Sunday was my birthday - it was the big 3-0. Not that I give too much extra credence to the ages that are divisible by 5; I did celebrate "the big" 2-8 and "the big" 2-9, and next year's prime 31 will surely be big. Nonetheless, this was intended to be "big." So I began celebrating early, to make this birthday as big (long) as could be.

Soup and mimosa at Happy Gillis. And Christy drew me a cake. This "30" begins with an E.

I started last Thursday with happy hour at JP Wine Bar and I got the best gift right off the bat: a book of notes from friends & family, past & present - Sergio has spent months secretly soliciting handwritten messages from so many people, all saying such warm, fuzzy things to and about me. And our dear friends made the whole book so beautiful.

Es - and the book is my favorite shade of blue

Day 2 of birthday - Friday - I had some lovely gifts (an owl and a scarf, some of my favorite things) and wishes from friends. Day 3, my pre-birthday, was lovely - after the farmers market, Pilates, and a great brunch that Christy made (with potatoes in a spicy homemade salsa) - we went to the Tivoli to see a matinée of "In the Loop" - we laughed heartily and were intrigued by the absurd impact of political rhetoric. After that we had snowcones from Fresher than Fresh and in the evening we enjoyed the Farmers Table at Blue Bird Bistro.

Sunday - the "big" day - I went to church and received many happy hellos. Then Sunday brunch was soup, a sandwich on a bialy, and a birthday brownie at Happy Gillis and in the afternoon we saw a great photography exhibit at the library called Red Desert, Blue Sky, Green Prairie - an interesting collection of assorted glimpses into the landscapes and townscapes of the West/Midwest. Dinner Sunday night was a new place called Westside Local (more on that presently).


Then, on Day 5, I figured it was all over - the dreaded August 24, always one of my least favorite days of the year. The day was uneventful (sigh) and I figured today would be, too. And then - just when I thought all the birthday fun was over - I got two gifts two days late: a lovely basket of garden fresh tomatoes from my manager - a welcome sight amidst spreadsheets on my desk.

And from Sergio (who was already carrying a balance in the gift giving column) I got one last great gift tonight: a big, beautiful, powerful pressure canner.

Yes, We Can

The birthday may be over, but this is only the beginning.

Preserving Traditions

Last night at Badseed, I did a demonstration on freezing greens as part of Brooke's evening of Food Preservation Demos. I briefly showed everybody who had gathered around the sweltering Badseed kitchen the step by step process of blanching and freezing chard and kale. When I was through, Brooke began demo number two and talked about pickling and canning, that old fashioned staple of homesteading.

I had to scurry away while her demo was going on so that I could make it to the first ever concert for Luna Cantera, Sergio's newest project and collaboration with his sister. They were invited to participate in the Cup of Kindness Summer Benefit Series at Coffee Break, a summer-long series that will benefit a number of organizations in Kansas City.

Tonight's event benefited (and raised over $200 for) Wuqu' Kawoq, an organization that supports the preservation of Mayan language and culture. The performance was a preservation of culture too, if you ask me. Sergio and Christy played several traditional Mexican songs, very heartbreaking tunes that were beautiful. Their own original songs were as charged and moving as the traditional pieces, as well.

And the evening of music flowed nicely, even if the air in the coffee house didn't. The show started with Nick Baker on the marimba, a sound that was cool and refreshing in the heat of a venue with temporarily-out-of-commission AC. Luna Cantera played next. After Sergio and Christy left the stage, Emily Tummins took up her guitar to play some old fashioned tunes (You're the cream in my coffee; you're the salt in my stew with a ukulele, no less) and a Beattles song she just discovered that she loves.

She even took a request from me at the end when I asked her to play You Are My Sunshine, just a little bit more old (and heartbreaking) music to close out the evening of traditions well preserved.

The Cup of Kindness series continues on Fridays: July 17, 24, 31 and August 14, 21, 28. More great music and more great organizations to benefit: March of Dimes, Bridging the Gap, KKFI, Midwest Music Foundation, Rockhill Academy, & The Ronald McDonald House. All events held at Coffee Break at 54th and Troost.

First First Friday: A Photo Essay

Christy, Armando, and Nina - heading out for their first First Friday in KC


First Friday first stop: Fresher Than Fresh Snowcones - Hi, 'Lil Snowie!



Next stop: "In Stereo" - the show of our friends Rachel Kort and Ellie Kort, who are twins



At Ellie and Rachel's show we met up with friends Chris, Mirna, and Alex






Mirna led us to the exhibit of Betsy Timmer whose tender and moving artwork is currently exhibited in a show with artist Tom Witzofsky called “I'll Show You Mine …” at The Base Gallery which is inside the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center



Jerry Bleem's artwork is also on display at the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center, including this quilt, made entirely of plastic bags, and titled "Remind me again why we're depleting the earth's resources and burying them in landfills"



Another Jerry Bleem piece made of stamps arranged in four different canvases that spell out "Sic Transit Gloria Mundi" which means "Thus passes the glory of the world"



Nina having a good time



We ended the evening with Thai food at our favorite place - Lulu's

KC Symphony: Beethoven, Shostakovitch, and Brahms

Our last season tickets for the symphony were last weekend, so Saturday we went to hear Beethoven, Shostakovich, and Brahms. We had spent the majority of Saturday shopping for a new car and all that haggling with sales people left me drained and ready for a relaxing evening of music.

The primary piece at this weekend's concert was Shostakovitch's Violin Concerto No. 1, performed by Baiba Skride, a young Latvian violinist, and conducted charismatically by guest conductor Grant Llewellyn. Skride stepped out on stage wearing a sparkling red dress, red like the color of the first car we test drove that morning; Skride has a youthful appearance and looked, for a moment, too young to even have a license to test drive a car. The rest of the orchestra were clad in the usual black which, on that day, reminded me of the color of the car we did end up buying at the end of the day.

Sergio loves Shostakovitch. I, on the other hand, can appreciate the intricacies, the depth, the rich range of sounds ... but as with much of 20th century classical music, I often have a hard time getting my bearings. Skride's intense solos seemed pitted against the orchestra's full voice; the tones seemed uncertain or uneasy. Shostavotich seemed troubled. All a fitting soundtrack for one who is mulling over the negotiations of a sale. I spent all day Saturday trying to get my bearings on the car purchase, never quite finding that plumb line of truth. Much like this concerto.

Skride is a skilled and passionate performer who is, by far, old enough to have a drivers license. (Watch a great video here.) She comes from a thoroughly musical family; she plays the Stradivarius "Wilhelmj" violin (1725), generously on loan to her from Nippon Music Foundation; when she came out to sign her CDs at intermission, she had changed from the sparkling red dress into a plain green shirt and jeans. She looked, simply, like one of us. But none of us are anything like her.

After intermission I savored the Brahms: stable, reliable, metered, and sure. It's music I can see on the page and music I can tap my toe to; music that signifies a world where I can always get my bearings, where I always know what's what and who's who, where I don't have to guess so much. A world that doesn't necessarily exist, I know, but that I take comfort in imagining nonetheless.

Thus ends the 2008-9 season for Sergio and me; we will unfortunately miss the Season Finale with Peter Serkin next weekend. But we will see you in the fall, KC Symphony.

"Symphony of Steel" - Construction is underway for the new Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts: here's an interesting video of the work done so far - with a curious soundtrack of music and sledge hammering: http://www.kcsymphony.org/video/steel.html

First Friday

gallery space in the Crossroads

Last night was First Friday in the Crossroads district and everyone was out and about. I've missed every First Friday for months - it was nice to go last night when the weather was decent and the sun was out. We had a full roster of events for the evening. Our first stop was Badseed for the Grand Opening of the Friday Farmers Market. I have been so so eager for the start of the season; I could hardly believe it was here. We bought lemon sorrel (greens), two bags of spinach, rice, steel cut oats, cheese, broccoli sprouts, chinese radish sprouts, and green coffee beans which Sergio intends to roast himself. Lots of food. Even so, we were out for the night, not cooking at home, so we scurried down the street for a quick bite - a veggie burger, actually. Sergio's ceremonial first veggie burger since the VB project ended precisely one month ago.

tea herbs at Badseed

There were so many exhibits, events, and openings; we could have made a number of stops throughout the course of the evening but we had our sights set on just a few. First, "Mañana" at Digital Labrador - an exhibit of photography from Nicaragua by Maria Brenny, whose selected works capture a full and diverse range of Nicaraguan impressions. Across the street we joined the crowd around the Fresher Than Fresh Snow Cones trailer (more on that...) and we hovered briefly outside the interesting things to see at Hammerpress Letterpress Studio while we tasted our First Ever FTF Snow Cones and accepted a piece of paper from a man dressed as a donkey.

artist's statement

fresher than fresh

reading what the donkey gave us

We moseyed to the west side for our next two stops and we happily stumbled upon the urban farm of Lew Edminster, the Herb'n Gardner, whom I had just chatted with at Badseed. Lew wears overalls and farms a corner lot across from the Primitivo Garcia World Language Elementary School on 17th street and Belleview. I said hello to the little lettuces which I hope to buy in a couple of weeks.

baby heads of lettuce and headless bodies of art

the syringe

Up the street then to The Syringe (right next to Mattie Rhodes) where "Mortality" - works by Jessica Dassing featuring needle felting, hand died protein fibers and renderings of birds - was on view. After learning some remarkable things about fibers and admiring a delicate, sheer tapestry comprised of human hair, it was time to go. We had to head out to the last stop on our agenda: "Jutting and Swerving," a show by Jane Gotch and Tiffany Sizemore at La Esquina.

finding our seats

waiting for jutting and swerving to start

Having recently attended my first modern dance event already, I was less unsure and even more amazed. I watched as the dancers worked with fluidity and tension, and I even stopped searching for symmetry. The music and movement cleared my head and aligned my thoughts. The dancers looked so graceful after it was over; exhausted, but graceful. I didn't want it to end and I thought perhaps they didn't either.

espresso

I thought the evening would end, too, until we emerged from the show to find that the Crossroads were still hoppin' so we stopped in at Extra Virgin for espresso and churros with chocolate. Nothing like churros in Mexico, but delicious, and the espresso was just the thing on the patio in the chill.

The only bad thing about First Friday is that it's only once a month.

the patio at extra virgin