What's the point of visiting the Guggenheim if you can't go up the ramp?

Very annoyed.

Had a late start this morning, crossed Central Park, then up 5th Ave 'til we got to the Guggenheim.

From the exterior, it is certainly impressive. Lloydd-Wright's masterpiece, the beautiful big, swirly atrium is stunning. The interior was a total let down.

Not only were half the galleries closed for rennovation and or the installation of new exhibits (including, it would seem, things that were clearly advertised in their brochure as being open!) we were not even allowed to walk the full length of the ramp that circles the inside of the museum - some ramps arbitrarily, others were being painted with more whitewash than you'd expect from Huckleberry Finn!

Considering that many people would visit the museum as much (if not more) to appreciate Frank Lloydd-Wright's architecture as the art inside, it defies belief that they couldn't carry out their rennovations on the day the museum is closed.

It further defies belief that you cannot take photos on the inside.

And to top it all off, there were people (a stupendously ugly bloodnut, and an alternative looking woman with a hideously ugly blouse) engaged in simulated lovemaking on the ground floor of the atrium. Apparently this was some sort of installation art, I found its relevance to the Guggenheim stretched, at best.

Epic. Fail. Guggenheim.

Like a Kid in a Candy Store

Again, too tired to blog properly... but have time enough before the Sandman visits to detail the highlight of today: Piet Mondrian at the Museum of Modern Art. A whole room of Mondrian.



I remember many years ago Mr Dolan, the CBC Junior School Art Teacher, holding up what was then a bewildering array of red, blue, gray and yellow squares. We had to emulate the works of that artist in our own composition: and I thought it was bullshit. "Why copy art that any child could reproduce?" I insisted - after all it appeared that the black lines that divide the squares were arbitrarily placed on the canvas, and then filled in with the primary colours in an even more arbitrary manner.

But for some reason, those images stuck in my head and, over time I came to (partially) understand and appreciate his work: the way he plays alternately with lines and colour to invoke feelings of eternity or feelings of finality. How the white patches demonstrate depth, while the black lines - initially the most striking aspects of the painting - can be so flat, and immovable.





The room culminates in the Broadway Boogie Woogie which evokes Times Square's frantic traffic and bright neon lights in such a bright, clever manner.



(Incidentally, this was my least favourtie until I actually saw Broadway!)

I was like a kid in a candy store. The only problem: I wanted more - and I know MoMA has them. An excuse for another visit in a couple of years, I think.

Wicked

Lived the dream and saw a show on Broadway tonight - Wicked. Loved the experience: getting all dressed up, gathering in the foyer, the sheer spectacle of the show, the Playbill, etc.

The only problem is, I cannot decide if I actually liked the musical or not - whether its artistic flaws outweigh its clever message about moral amibiguity.

I am a big Wizard of Oz fan, and an even bigger fan of Gregory Maguire's novel. But I'm not so sure about the musical.

The plot must have been severely lacking for many people in the audience. I often found myself straining to remember aspects of the novel's plot to actually make the on stage action comprehensible. And while I do appreciate an adapted artistic work paying homage to its parent (and think that is all too infrequently done), they should be stand alone works, and the secondary work shouldn't require frequent cross-referencing.

There was also little sense of it being a developing story. These were characters that should evolve over time, that come to accept that where the line between good and, well, "wicked" lies is often difficult to determine. It all seemed like it happened in one brief squirt of activity in the merry ol' Land of Oz. Thankfully, it wasn't so bad as to lead to a failure of the "willing suspension of disbelief,"

All that said, the moral ambiguity of "fighting terror" was cleverly addressed: in a "one man's terrorist is another's freedom fighter" kind of way.

G(a)linda's internal moral struggle was delicately but cleverly handled, Fiyero's even more so. But the star was the Wicked Witch of the West herself - the perfect antiheroine. Her rejection of the seduction of power felt true and intelligent; her madness - her 'terrorism' - which developed as a reaction to the Wizard's autocratic, arbitrary government, seemed eminently justifiable and very sympathetic. It's good that kids, especially, are exposed to the ambiguity of real life like this. There is neither absolute good nor absolute bad; watching people act that now in a digestable, entertaining manner might just make the message sink through a little better!

"Theater" critic signing off now.

Liberty, Money, Bridges and Buildings.

Day 3

Determined to do a little better than yesterday, we headed straight down to Battery Park on the subway to Battery Park. Got a little lost and found ourselves standing next to Ground Zero - but wove our way through the chaotic tiny streets of south Manhattan to Battery Park. Perused the sculptures there before hopping on the ferry to Liberty Island.

The breathtakingness was diminished somewhat by the fog, but she is an impressive sight. And the views from the Island are amazing. The security checks - literally ten times as strict as those at an airport - dampen your enthusiasm, and the museum attached, while interesting, could probably have all its information condensed onto an A4 pamphlet.



After ferrying back we made our way to the NY Stock Exchange. Amazing classical revival building... but shocking to think that so much of the world's economic health is reliant on this building tucked away in a rather tiny street at the end of a rather tiny island. Bought some ties off a man who was attempting to sell (mostly in vain) to passers by on the basis it was cheaper to just buy new ones than to dry clean old ones. Kind of explains everything that's wrong with the capitalism all around!



Then walked - passed Ground Zero (the worek they're doing looks amazing), across the Brooklyn Bridge (welll, half way!) up through Chinatown and Little Italy, then to Greenwich Village. Washington Square was quaint. Then walked up the gorgeous Fifth Avenue - wish someone would invite me to come and live with them there! The Flatiron building was incomprehensible - how and why they went to that much effort to build that building astounds me - but I'm glad they did.





Managed to stumble to Times Square before our legs gave way. Hopped on Subway to come home.



Damn tired now.

Central Park and The Met

Day 2

A relatively early rise for the siblings Bucsai. Bereft of breakfast ideas I submitted more rapidly than usual to the omnipresent temptation that is a McDonalds McMuffin (sans bacon, of course.) Strolled over to Central Park (delightfully close). Too slow to get a photo of ANY squirrel - they're devilishly quick little creatures!

Found that amazing statue of Alice in Wonderland, listened to a decent jazz busker at the Bethesda fountain, strolled through the Strawberry Fields, and walked under the bridge where our heroes hid from the Cloverfield monster. The only thing I found annoying: the feeling that you had seen every rock, pond, bridge, building in or around the park on television or in a movie, and not being able to pin point which one!





Then we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (the Met). For an ex-ancient historian and an art history buff, was as a candy store is to a child. We spent the remainder of the day there wandering from gallery to gallery, constantly finding new rooms we'd not before visited, but always with at least one work that made us guffaw.



Lloydd-Wright, Tiffany, Monet, Manet, Degas, Warhol, Mondrian - all our perennial favourites were there - and we took plenty (probably too many!) photos. Personal favourite "discoveries" the amazing art deco collection, in particular the polar bear and robin, and the amazing mural from a French ship commandeered by US forces in World War II.





Went to a market, only to find that even Qantas' poor level of service could be matched! Back to the hotel to try and figure out how we can spend the next day a little more efficiently...

The problem with tipping, and other brief ramblings.

Day 2

After circling the Big Apple in the air (three holding patterns,) we were finally permitted to land. Meet Alicia promptly outside the gate - was great to see her after nine months. And despite what facebook photos might suggest she has not, in fact, put on much weight ;-).

Found our way to the (not-so-scary) Subway and after several (sometimes rather complicated) changes, found our way to 79th St Station. It was raining when we surfaced, a biting, chilling rain, and I pity the delightfully friendly concierge Matt for the sight he must have endured when we two weary travelers appeared at his desk.

Room is lovely - in fact, I've taken a couple of photos in the (probably) vain hope that I might one day redecorate my bedroom in similar style.

Went for a stroll along Broadway, found a cute little restaurant where the both of us ate pasta for dinner. Mine was "penne alla vodka". It had the sweetness and warmth of vodka, without the alcoholic side effects - might go looking for a similar recipe once home! The only problem: atrocious customer service. What is the point in having a system of tipping when there is a social contract that you're obligated to tip anyway? Tipping should be based on merit, not expectation.

Had a further bit of a look around, but realising that our hands were almost incapable of movement, and with our hair drenched we made our way back to the hotel. Despite some technology issues (a crazy television that wouldn't go off) sleep was okay.

Worst. Flight. Ever.

I've managed to contain my wrath about my two flights until now. Internet access shall be my catharsis.

Problem #1: The idiotic Qantas staff who spooked me into think that I had not provided them with information which I had already provided them regarding my visa. I ran around like a mad man at Melbourne Airport trying to find WiFi to correct the problem, only to be told by the (lovely) Qantas ladies at Melbourne Airport that I was indeed fine to travel.

Problem #2: The fact that Qantas no longer makes a distinction between Vegan food and Vegetarian food. So while everybody else got scrambled eggs (and associated meat-based trimmings) I was forced to consume cereal and soymilk (of which I am not particularly fond.) And then, on the LAX-NYC part of the flight they gave me MILK which means they don't really care about the Vegans, and I could've had eggs anyway! And I got no dessert like the carnivores.

Problem 3#: The fat man next to me from MEL-LAX who said, because I was skinny and he obese, that he was entitled to arm room clearly several inches on my side of the armrest. I asked him why I should be punished for being healthy yet he, who doubtless already strains my tax dollars due to obesity-related health issues, should also be entitled to strain my comfort. Needless to say not a happy flight.

Oh well, that's over. Bring on the good times.