in our time
Jan. 13th, 2019 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanama65 days until the vernal equinox
And we've hit what is on average the worst week. Oddly, it hasn't snowed at all.
Olivia is not an artist but she appreciates art.
I met a woman with blue hair, a woman with green hair, a woman with half-red half-green hair.
Molly remembered the time I drew her and Megan (and she says Caroline was there too) a few years ago. She says the three of them are in the picture. If she's who I'm thinking of, it was just Molly and Megan although maybe Caroline joined them later on.
She was with Caroline, who has rust red hair, and with Lizzy, which is short for Elizabeth, which is far too long for its own good, who had black hair in a topknot and wore a black coat and black shirt and black and white pants. They were at the MFA, where Molly got a print of a black cat and a tortoiseshell cat to hang on her wall. I asked her if she was Lithuanian and she said no, she’s mostly Irish, and you may prove it from her pale skin, but she recently found out her grandmother is from Israel.
This one. By Théophile Alexandre Steinlen. I disagree that no artist is more identified with cats. Louis Wain. Not David Wain; he voices Courtney on Bob’s Burgers.
Despite this, she has dogs. Two dogs who are siblings but don’t come from the same litter, one of whom always sleeps in the most bizarre and improbable positions, and a little white poofball dog.
I was there for the Ansel Adams exhibit and the Made In Boston jewelry exhibit.
Ansel Adams had a nose crooked to the left that he earned in the 1906 earthquake.
It's not just Adams' photographs.
Matthew Brandt made silkscreens with condiments like molé sauce, ketchup and mustard, or (not seen here) Laffy Taffy and Jello.
David Emitt Adams put tintype photographs on rusted cans and other unidentifiable bits of junk.
I believe that Meghann Reipenhoff would leave photosensitive cyanotype paper in the sand and let the tides wash over them.
I noticed that in a photo of Long Beach, CA, three of the houses were exactly the same.
I overheard part of a conversation about a documentary called The Pie Lady of Pietown, which is in the New Mexico desert, and she said there's this guy talking about an alien conspiracy about pies.
It’s not every day we have a knight conducting, the violinist said. It’s mostly symbolic now that leadership made chivalry obsolete. There’s a myth about Polish cavalry charges against German tanks in 1939. In reality, most of their weaponry and equipment was horse-drawn.
I don't really have much to say about Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 24, even if it is good. It's a concerto, which means it's fast-slow-fast, it's classical so it's more about form than mood.
Ralph Vaughan Williams' 5th symphony is this beautiful languid pastoral symphony and it makes me think not of winter but of that time between planting and harvest when the air is heavy and last time I checked, Andris Nelsons is from Latvia and the Earth’s axis of rotation is not fixed on the Galapagos Islands, which might mean that Latvia was tropical but I don’t have access to a globe right now (I might but it's a fairly long walk by the standards of the first half of the year and even if I did, I think it has a fixed axis of rotation.) and there is no 2D map that isn’t distorted and changing the Earth’s axis of rotation would change the climate of Boston radically because I’m pretty sure the only way that Boston and Latvia would have opposite seasons is if Boston was on the northern coast of an equatorial ocean, so never mind. Also, I don’t know if Ashley reads this but you never mind and also shut up.
It was finished in June 1943 at the height of World War II. Well, okay, by the time it premiered, things were starting to go south for the Axis. On the other hand, the dark, brooding, Bax-esque Symphony no. 4 premiered in 1935, and the intense no. 6 premiered in 1948.
In lieu of Harbison’s symphony no. 2, which I listened to and will describe anyway, we got Pizetti’s Requiem in honor of the founder of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus, which, as is true of many early masses, opens with a plainchant and evolves into contrapunctual. It's truncated; there is an introit with a brief kyrie attached, a dies irae, a sanctus, an agnus dei, and a libera me.
Harbison's second symphony is broken down into four movements: dawn, daylight, dusk, and dark. Dawn is shimmering and evokes birdsong. Daylight is a scherzo. Dusk is dreamy. Dark is quiet and brooding, and a new day begins.
Gabbard is officially running for president and she has the endorsement of Kiwi Farms.
burning question: why the hell is there a flickr group devoted to dead fish?
And we've hit what is on average the worst week. Oddly, it hasn't snowed at all.
Olivia is not an artist but she appreciates art.
I met a woman with blue hair, a woman with green hair, a woman with half-red half-green hair.
Molly remembered the time I drew her and Megan (and she says Caroline was there too) a few years ago. She says the three of them are in the picture. If she's who I'm thinking of, it was just Molly and Megan although maybe Caroline joined them later on.
She was with Caroline, who has rust red hair, and with Lizzy, which is short for Elizabeth, which is far too long for its own good, who had black hair in a topknot and wore a black coat and black shirt and black and white pants. They were at the MFA, where Molly got a print of a black cat and a tortoiseshell cat to hang on her wall. I asked her if she was Lithuanian and she said no, she’s mostly Irish, and you may prove it from her pale skin, but she recently found out her grandmother is from Israel.
This one. By Théophile Alexandre Steinlen. I disagree that no artist is more identified with cats. Louis Wain. Not David Wain; he voices Courtney on Bob’s Burgers.
Despite this, she has dogs. Two dogs who are siblings but don’t come from the same litter, one of whom always sleeps in the most bizarre and improbable positions, and a little white poofball dog.
I was there for the Ansel Adams exhibit and the Made In Boston jewelry exhibit.
Ansel Adams had a nose crooked to the left that he earned in the 1906 earthquake.
It's not just Adams' photographs.
Matthew Brandt made silkscreens with condiments like molé sauce, ketchup and mustard, or (not seen here) Laffy Taffy and Jello.
David Emitt Adams put tintype photographs on rusted cans and other unidentifiable bits of junk.
I believe that Meghann Reipenhoff would leave photosensitive cyanotype paper in the sand and let the tides wash over them.
I noticed that in a photo of Long Beach, CA, three of the houses were exactly the same.
I overheard part of a conversation about a documentary called The Pie Lady of Pietown, which is in the New Mexico desert, and she said there's this guy talking about an alien conspiracy about pies.
It’s not every day we have a knight conducting, the violinist said. It’s mostly symbolic now that leadership made chivalry obsolete. There’s a myth about Polish cavalry charges against German tanks in 1939. In reality, most of their weaponry and equipment was horse-drawn.
I don't really have much to say about Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 24, even if it is good. It's a concerto, which means it's fast-slow-fast, it's classical so it's more about form than mood.
Ralph Vaughan Williams' 5th symphony is this beautiful languid pastoral symphony and it makes me think not of winter but of that time between planting and harvest when the air is heavy and last time I checked, Andris Nelsons is from Latvia and the Earth’s axis of rotation is not fixed on the Galapagos Islands, which might mean that Latvia was tropical but I don’t have access to a globe right now (I might but it's a fairly long walk by the standards of the first half of the year and even if I did, I think it has a fixed axis of rotation.) and there is no 2D map that isn’t distorted and changing the Earth’s axis of rotation would change the climate of Boston radically because I’m pretty sure the only way that Boston and Latvia would have opposite seasons is if Boston was on the northern coast of an equatorial ocean, so never mind. Also, I don’t know if Ashley reads this but you never mind and also shut up.
It was finished in June 1943 at the height of World War II. Well, okay, by the time it premiered, things were starting to go south for the Axis. On the other hand, the dark, brooding, Bax-esque Symphony no. 4 premiered in 1935, and the intense no. 6 premiered in 1948.
In lieu of Harbison’s symphony no. 2, which I listened to and will describe anyway, we got Pizetti’s Requiem in honor of the founder of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus, which, as is true of many early masses, opens with a plainchant and evolves into contrapunctual. It's truncated; there is an introit with a brief kyrie attached, a dies irae, a sanctus, an agnus dei, and a libera me.
Harbison's second symphony is broken down into four movements: dawn, daylight, dusk, and dark. Dawn is shimmering and evokes birdsong. Daylight is a scherzo. Dusk is dreamy. Dark is quiet and brooding, and a new day begins.
Gabbard is officially running for president and she has the endorsement of Kiwi Farms.
burning question: why the hell is there a flickr group devoted to dead fish?
