• The Legion of Honor

      September 4, 2018 in the United States ⋅ 🌙 14 °C

      After a visit to an American Pharmacy, which I expected to be called a drug store but was not, we Ubered across town high up on one of the hills to visit San Francisco's famous Legion of Honor Museum. I had done a little homework on this place and knew that it houses a very fine collection of art from different time periods and locations.

      It is a very imposing building from the outside with a grand arched entrance. Inside the arch way, it opens out into a large outdoor foyer surrounded by columns, and in the centre, the famous statue by Auguste Rodin, Le Penseur - the Thinker. I've known about The Thinker since childhood and never dreamed I would actually see it. As a matter of fact, I've thought a lot about The Thinker but I'm not sure The Thinker has thought a lot about me. As you can see in the pic, I tried to emulate his pose, but alas, my coordination has never been my strong suit and it's clear from this picture, neither is my proprioception.

      To our great surprise and pleasure, the Legion had on a special exhibition called Truth and Beauty. This was a collection of the Pre-Raphaelites. Now in truth, I did have to read up rather quickly about this band of merry men and yes, they were all men, how they figured that something was lost in the paintings of their own day that they felt they wanted to capture again from the older masters from Rafael and before. So I got to see these guys but also some of the earlier famous artists they were emulating.

      This was very special for me as I got to see my very first live Van Eyck. I had really remembered from my youth Van Eyck's famous picture of the Marriage of Arnolfini which today I accidentally called The Marriage of Gandolfini. The groom had put on a bit of weight. But the Legion was not showing the Marriage. Instead, it was showing Van Eyck's The Annunciation. It really is also a beautiful painting. The Archangel Gabriel arrives and tells Mary that she will be with child. It is so Van Eyck I recognized it immediately without having read its accompanying inscription.

      There was also a lovely painting of Saint Cecilia the patron saint of musicians seated at a keyboard in a bright yellow dress and looking fabulous. Another work that really took hold of me was two little 16th century paintings by Pieter Coecke van Aelst depicting Mary Magdalene and Joseph of Arimathea having just seen Jesus crucified. If you zoom into Mary's face, you can see tears running down her cheeks quite plainly. Also if you look at Joseph's eyes, they are full and sad. Just beautiful.

      There is also an out-of-this-world painting of The Lady of Shalott, which Chris tells me, depicts the lady not permitted to view the world directly, but only through its reflection in a mirror. It was painted by William Holman Hunt. The Pre-Raphaelites seem to have a thing with woman's hair. The larger the better. Every time I saw one of these portraits of some incredible female personage, each one had amazing giant big hair. I was put in mind of Dame Joan Sutherland actually. His skin, her hair, her sheer size.

      The Legion of Honor is not the least bit squeamish about photography in its gallery. There was not a single sign anyway forbidding photography, not even flash photography. Needless to say, I took lots of shots and I'll only share a few of them here. There is only so much one can take of someone else's Gallery experience.

      I feel very lucky and very honored to be here and to see these incredible originals by artists such as Raphael, Rembrandt, Rubens, Albrecht Durer, Botticelli, Rosetti, el Greco and even some impressionists in one of the other rooms, Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Manet, Pissarro; names I have known and read about my whole life.

      After the gallery, it was time for dinner so we headed on down into Chinatown and ate a small feast. San Francisco's Chinatown is one of the biggest outside of Asia. It is full of glitz and glare and was a welcome relief full of super informality and earthiness. Of course, being in Chinatown, I could hardly not take a photo of the Trans America Building. You will know of course the joke about the guy in the top office of the Trans Am building. He has a pointy head. Till next.

      Sent on the go with Vodafone
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    • A Palace on the Port

      September 3, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

      Strolling along the Marina district trying to get our first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, which we did, but it was enshrouded in fog, we happened upon the Palace of Fine Arts. Never heard of it. Never knew it was here. But looking back away from the Bridge I spotted this giant domey thing just begging by its sheer size and grand architecture to be visited.

      The Palace of Fine Arts opens up as you wander through it. Built around an artificial lagoon, its truly humungous Corinthian columns rise all around you topped by giant statuary:
      some looked like gods
      ancient heroes
      four women standing around a giant block atop one column all looking in and bending over. I suggested they looked like they were crying, but Chris thought they were all checking their social media on their smartphones.

      The Palace of Fine Arts was built in 1915 for an Expo in San Francisco. Having an expo in the middle of World War I is an interesting idea and a question for another time. I understand the Palace was one of ten Palaces for the Exhibition, the only one still standing . Apparently San Franciscans loved it so much that they set up a Palace of Fine Arts Preservation Society which clearly won the day. Because here it still stands, waiting to be discovered by a couple of Novocastrians looking for a giant bridge.

      Its architecture, based on ancient Roman and Greek styles, is called Beaux Arts. No, I didn't know that the moment I saw it, as in "Ah Chris, notice this fine rotunda with interesting relief on the cupola in the Beaux Arts style". "Why I do declare you're right Stuart." I looked it up in Wiki. One of the original architects, Bernard Maybeck, came to our aid after we left as we were dry and parched and hungry, so headed off into a nice little establishment called Maybecks, with a stunning copper bar, for a beer and chips.
      You can take the Aussie out of Australia but - - - -
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    • Home Away from Home

      September 3, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

      What's better than your thirteen and a half hour flight landing? Yes. Getting to your accommodation. We have a super nice Air BnB in Potrero Hill to call home. It's a quite well-to-do neighbourhood that has lots of cafes and restaurants. We are literally surrounded by San Francisco's amazing architecture. Our view down the hill and out over the city is beautiful both day and night. The yellow house on the corner, we can see from our front room and bedroom. We're on a bus route, electrified buses attached to overhead power by two cables, more properly called a trolley bus, so we can get around easily to see this extraordinary city of wood. Lots of shiny red gleaming fire engines. I can see why. America fortunately is learning about coffee and Farleys, just down the street, did the trick for these two barista-spoiled coffeephiles.Read more

    • The Flight Out of Egypt or Sojourn in SF

      September 2, 2018 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C

      After a fitful sleep with my head full of Brahms and the airport shuttle wake-up call, I woke rather tired on the day I was about to lose all understanding of sleep and rest. Sydney airport was kind. It’s relatively easy to get around and we both got through security without incident, although, I did lose my little tube of Oral toothpaste. “Not little enough,” said the guard, who insisted the bag must be re-scanned after removal of said offending paste.

      The only thing to say about the flight is that apart from being delayed about two hours, it was without incident. The skies were clear and we had a bumpless flight across the Pacific. We had a nice young chappy coming to San Francisco for the fifteenth time sitting next to us. Not for him the comfort of familiarity of such a flight. He was actually a nervous flyer and also a Catholic. On descent into San Fran, which takes about half an hour, he made the sign of the cross several times and once or twice, bowed his head in solemn prayer. I used to pray at the beginning and end of flights, but I don’t nowadays. I typically just think that if it’s my time, then God must know about it and must have something to do with what’s going on. In other words, I’m happy to leave it alone, get on with my flight and leave it to God. I must say though, that a smidge under fourteen hours on a flight is stretching the friendship of the body and peace of mind. Legs ache, thighs call out, buttocks complain. Australia really is a very long way away from the rest of the world.

      Chris and I ate well, I drank two littlun bottles of Chardy and did my best to sleep. Really, to no avail. I watched an episode of Maigret, the French detective, played by Rowan Atkinson in a dramatic role, which, bizarrely, is set in France with French protagonists, but the whole thing is done in English, with very plain unaffected English as the chosen dialect. Even Maigret’s name is spoken as May Grey. It’s wel-done, but it’s a bit weird.

      I also watched the final instalment of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. This was enjoyable as I have been watching the whole series through again over the last couple of weeks as a preparation for reading Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, my holiday read, set nineteen years after the original books end. Though I had seen this movie before, I was very moved by Snape’s story as I watched it at 11000 meters above the ocean. Snape has been misunderstood for the entire series, hated, vilified, attacked, and yet his actions in secretly protecting Harry from danger because he had been in love with Lily Potter from their childhoods. Never to have the girl he loved, to lose her to murder, and only on his own deathbed, to have the truth come out was and remains incredibly moving. I shed a tear for Snape last night. And you cannot really talk about the character without praising the work of the late Alan Rickman in bringing his tragic story to life.

      Moral to the Story: there’s always something deeper going on than what’s apparent at the surface.

      Successful flight to San Francisco. Tick. Done.
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    • From Brahms to Boeing

      September 2, 2018 in Australia ⋅ 🌬 14 °C

      No matter where you are going in the world, Sydney is and remains an international city. It really is
      extraordinary. At least the bits that everyone marvels over. The bridge, the Opera House, Circular
      Quay, the toaster. Chris and I come down fairly regularly throughout the year to concerts at the OH.
      It really is a remarkable building, even though it is not finished according to the desires of its
      designer Jørn Utzon. I have been to so many concerts in this crimson hall with its wonderful pipe
      organ looking over the vast chasm below it, but I never cease to get a thrill of excitement as members of the
      orchestra slowly wander on to stage and, lost in their own individual worlds, run a few bars of the piece they are about to play. It’s always exciting. When the conductor walks across the stage after they’ve tuned up, there is wonderful silence that ensues as he picks up his baton, looks his charges in the eyes and raised his arms. I will never tire of it.

      Last night we heard an all Brahms concert: the Academic Festival Overture, always fun, and two big
      concertos, the Double Concerto for violin and cello, and the 1st piano concerto. This was a really big
      night. The Double Concerto has a remarkable story. Brahms and his best mate, the most famous
      violinist of the day, Joseph Joachim, had had a falling out some years earlier. They had not been able
      to reconcile but Brahms sent Joachim the score for this concerto for comment, as Brahms himself
      was neither a violinist or cellist. It worked. The interplay between the two instruments is gentle and
      friendly and always collegial. It is as if the violin part is Joachim and the cello part is Brahms himself.
      So, the whole concerto is a musical poem of reconciliation. And it shows.

      The piano concerto in D Minor is one of two that Brahms wrote. It is a piece of great passion,
      solemnity and beauty and he wrote it in his twenties. He debuted it exactly one hundred years
      before I was born, at the age of twenty-six. I think that is truly remarkable. I don’t know what you
      were doing at twenty-six, but I was still finding myself, denying my sexuality, working as a High School
      teacher and being somewhat of a religious nutter. I love this Brahms. There is not a month goes by that I do not play it, either while I’m working or reading. It is one of my most favourite concertos of the genre. The soloists were amazing. I did not know them, but I have a new found respect for Andrew Haveron (violin), Umberto Clerici (cello) and Alexander Gavrylyuk (piano); the SSO’s Chief Conductor David Robertson bringing his usual flair and enthusiasm to the music. Some exciting music awaits in the States, and very soon. A surprise.

      Today, it’s all about airports and luggage and checking in and security and waiting for our flight. It
      was delayed about two hours, so a drink and some rest helped. We’ve read the all the papers, Chris
      has done a bit of sketching already and I have had a go at some fundamentalist homophobes on
      Twitter. We are both just looking forward to getting on the plane and going. Till next.
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    • Waratah Bus stop: Hoping to look a little less stressed within the week.
      Newcastle Interchange. Off to Sydney.

      Leaving Home

      September 1, 2018 in Australia ⋅ 🌬 17 °C

      I haven't been overseas since my honeymoon in 2014. So having a month off and heading to the USA is a pretty wonderful feeling. It's also the first time that Chris and I have been overseas together to anywhere other than New Zealand. So it's pretty special for us both.
      Getting to this point has been a bit of an ordeal. After being quite ill earlier in the year, my client load skyrocketed, so it's been full steam ahead for me ever since May and I feel a bit like I've just fallen over the line to get here. But no more psychologising for a month. Of course since I finished work two days ago, there's been a mad scramble to prepare, but it'll all be worth it.
      On the bus on the way in to the Newcastle Interchange, the bus driver was whistling along to Michael Jackson's Beat It. The music was turned up and this guy could whistle. He was the Dame Joan of whistlers at her coloratura best. This guy couldn't just whistle Dixie, he owned Dixie. So it was hard to resist the upbeat positive vibe in the bus and I feel that, even though I haven't slowed down yet, it's now only a matter of time. We have a wonderful trip planned and I'm going to share it with you as we go. Feel free to dip in and out as you please. Feeling good. See you on the road 😀
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