I'm a little scattered this morning, and the post I was planning on posting this morning, that I had started writing and then abandoned is just that, abandoned. I took photos in a rush, which is always a mistake, and now I am unhappy with myself because I must go back to the source and take new photos.
I'm not too unhappy however, because I am having a wonderful time in New York City. I flew in Saturday, and went to the Ballet that evening. Walking up the stairs to the balcony lobby in he David Koch theater and seeing that space filled with colorful balloons, creating a buoyant wonderland of color floating through the room, was a magical moment in and of itself. The installation is by Jihan Zencirli and I felt like a child playing with bubbles as we walked around it, as did many others apparently, wonder on their faces, people pulling their friends over and snapping selfies with balloons during intermissions. Young, and old alike smiling, momentary glimpses of childish glee on the most carefully composed of faces. And yes, the ballet was stunning as well, an all Balanchine program, beautifully performed. I haven't been to the ballet, to a really good ballet in years, and I don't have the words for it, except to say that magic happened all around.
Sunday it rained, quite heavily at times, but we were out in the morning, exploring, wandering, Trying to stay dry, not always successfully. We had thought we would go someplace and be promptly indoors, but it didn't quite work out that way. By 1PM, tired, hungry, and also a bit wet, we decided to retire to the hotel, where we could while away the hours with a drink and a nibble.
We had tickets again that evening, again at Lincoln Center, but this time at Alice Tully Hall, a part of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center's series. Somehow, out of pure dumb luck, I think we may have gotten some of the best seats in the house. We were up in the balcony, so not close, but the sound was marvelous. We could hear every note, separately and also as a part of the whole, combining, and blending, merging into the conversation of the music. The music was just that, a conversation between the performers, exactly what chamber music should be, something I had not been aware I had really been missing (I had not gotten tickets to one small venue in Knoxville this year, a decision that might have been a mistake). Best of all, in the final piece, the Dvorak quintet #2 in G major, for two violins, viola, cello, and double bass, they performed the original scoring, with five movements, and it was just stunning. The two slow movements add a balance and a depth to the piece that is not as evident in the four-movement version. The soft notes of the double bass, played by Edgar Meyer, in the second movement were breath-taking, as in fact was the entire, stunning, performance.
The rain was finally lifting so we decided to walk. We stopped at the same restaurant we had eaten in the night before, Remi, just a couple of blocks from our hotel, but this time we were seated by the window, looking into he courtyard/pedestrian walkway. I was entranced by the view of the courtyard and the play of light through the window, the reflections, and shadows. I'm not sure I captured it here, but I hope you get a little bit of the feel of the place.
We walked back to the hotel through a series of pedestrian walkways, stopping to take some photos, then stopping for a grand mariner in lieu of dessert at the hotel bar. I was entranced once again by the really rather mundane view out the window, the play of light and color, shadow and shape of the lights and the buildings, Applebees and all. Greater America and New York combined, high and low and everything in between, melting together.