tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59549669709199406862024-03-19T15:43:49.533-07:00dreamland literary and cinematic societyart, design, books, motion pictures, writing, memories, dreams & various other personal & cultural endeavors informally explored against the backdrop of my epic daily battle for productivity... carpe diem, tempus fugitbrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.comBlogger342125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-74859725625194228702013-04-20T10:38:00.001-07:002013-04-20T10:38:14.816-07:00Normandie Avenue from Griffith Observatory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NI58tE7NGkg/UXLSa1Nr-eI/AAAAAAAABY0/or5MBw2ZYA0/s1600/400px-N-Normandie-Avenue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NI58tE7NGkg/UXLSa1Nr-eI/AAAAAAAABY0/or5MBw2ZYA0/s320/400px-N-Normandie-Avenue.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-37867507938802952862012-10-12T01:13:00.001-07:002012-10-12T01:13:17.962-07:00october countrybrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-48213720923103977552012-09-22T05:36:00.001-07:002012-10-12T01:13:39.845-07:00glass house in the sky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SPl4YbkW_ZE/UF2wvhnbpnI/AAAAAAAABUk/NvOXhs35f2E/s1600/Snapshot+new+orb+setup_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SPl4YbkW_ZE/UF2wvhnbpnI/AAAAAAAABUk/NvOXhs35f2E/s320/Snapshot+new+orb+setup_001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-1761560432561072952012-09-10T12:52:00.000-07:002012-09-10T13:21:37.233-07:00scenes from a film project<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M5eX5NacPX0/UE5EQnSHnNI/AAAAAAAABTs/had3OHgUTJc/s1600/space+suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M5eX5NacPX0/UE5EQnSHnNI/AAAAAAAABTs/had3OHgUTJc/s320/space+suit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUX03wCspoE/UE5Lq3NwELI/AAAAAAAABUE/oh09GNu9vZQ/s1600/me+and+the+guys+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AUX03wCspoE/UE5Lq3NwELI/AAAAAAAABUE/oh09GNu9vZQ/s320/me+and+the+guys+02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-78246428836810441842012-08-21T15:32:00.001-07:002012-08-21T15:32:48.844-07:00the lost monthOne of these days, please remind me to explain why I haven't been online to blog for a month.brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-72982268114467259962012-07-20T21:55:00.000-07:002012-07-20T21:55:46.507-07:00moon landingbrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-22570517807055987822012-07-04T07:07:00.001-07:002012-07-28T04:27:54.694-07:00remarkable<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cRQu57bfpj4/T_RMJ39oNWI/AAAAAAAABTI/mtuBp-vQ2gM/s1600/Planetfest+solar+sail+wsf_SailOpenA_75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cRQu57bfpj4/T_RMJ39oNWI/AAAAAAAABTI/mtuBp-vQ2gM/s320/Planetfest+solar+sail+wsf_SailOpenA_75.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fJrwGlvueio/T_RLpuOgujI/AAAAAAAABTA/1R_BjSk9VMY/s1600/copyright+jpl+1981+Planetfest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fJrwGlvueio/T_RLpuOgujI/AAAAAAAABTA/1R_BjSk9VMY/s320/copyright+jpl+1981+Planetfest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span class="huge1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"Americans are far more
remarkable than we give ourselves credit for. We've been so busy damning
ourselves for years. We've done it all, and yet we don't take credit for it."</span></i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /><span style="color: blue;"><strong>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ray Bradbury</span></strong></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>* * *</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>Above, two photos courtesy of JPL taken at Planetfest 1981. The top image is of the world's first unfurling of a solar sail. I was standing right there, an ordinary citizen witnessing history. My modest camera's photos weren't very good so I hope JPL will forgive my sharing theirs.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>The lower image is of a panel discussion at that same conference-- Carl Sagan, Bruce Murray, Ted Koppel, Ray Bradbury, and Gene Roddenberry. I was in the front row.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>Reaching the stars... It all seemed so dazzlingly possible. </em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>Perhaps it will again.</em></span></div>
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</div>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-118419291253862392012-06-30T11:30:00.002-07:002012-09-16T20:17:47.391-07:00writer's mopSometimes I hear a turn of phrase so absurd, so ridiculous, so perfectly clever, I wish I'd been the one to think of it. Deborah, a friend of mine from Facebook, was chatting with me about the curse of housework and how it looms large-- often more psychologically than anything else-- in the writing lives of women. She said she didn't exactly have writer's block, but she understood the concept of <em>writer's mop.</em> <br />
<br />
Writer's mop. Thank you.brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-21579237322833312322012-06-25T08:16:00.002-07:002012-09-14T15:04:45.473-07:00shoes and ships and sealing waxTo tell, or not to tell: that is the question. Should a would-be author writing a would-be novel let friends and family know about it? I've had occasion to regret ever mentioning my novel--that most treasured and meaningful of my creative endeavors-- especially since the project in question has now been in the works for over six years. <br />
<br />
"Hey; how's the novel coming? Are you done yet?"<br />
<br />
Author Tom Wolfe once remarked, and correctly so, that someone who has been working on a novel for years hasn't been working on it that long-- they've been doing a dance around it. True enough, Tom! <br />
<br />
In my defense, I'm working on a four-volume work, essentially four interlocking novels involving tons of research and ancillary material. In my heart of hearts, however, I know I should be finished by now. Therein lies a tale or two.<br />
<br />
The big fiction project began very innocently. I effectively tricked myself into writing a work of long fiction by publishing short weekly chapters online to a hobby group. The ice was broken, and at least in terms of output, I developed good writing habits. I had a general idea where it was all going, but I let the characters run their own show. For many months, the commitment to providing new material on a timetable removed certain mental obstacles for me. <br />
<br />
I was off and running. After a couple of years of fooling around with this format, I gradually awakened to the realization that what I really wanted to do was take my characters, and their basic situation, and write a so-called serious work. And so, much like the old Grandpa's Ax joke ("It's had the handle replaced twice and the blade once") I began the wonderful process of reworking it into something less frivolous and more serious and complex. A whole new game.<br />
<br />
One school of thought holds that letting people know you're working on a big writing project sets up a certain amount of useful pressure. While this may be true, writers should consider the flip side of this strategy. Do you really want everyone you know to ask you about it every time they see you? Are you ready to endure their mental eye roll when you inform them, yet again, time after excruciating time, that you're "Still working on it", or, "I'm in the last phases", or, "Getting there."? Is it useful to feel their thoughts burning into you, comments along the lines of "Sheesh, just finish the freaking thing already; what's the big deal?"<br />
<br />
One reason some people might share they're writing a novel might be that it sounds kind of cool, as if it were enough to just to be doing it. But I've never liked that idea, and that kind of phony buzz never been my motivation. It's not enough for me to be working on a book: I want, I need to finish it. Anyone can say they are a writer, but I want to cross the finish line and be an author.<br />
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For good or for bad, everyone close to me knows I have been creating a long work of fiction. A few close friends have read excerpts, in a couple of cases some lengthy sections. (I removed the original serialized chapters from their online home quite some time ago). There's no real question amongst these fine people that despite my having a minimal track record of published works, I'm still a serious writer. And I'm sure none of them expects to open my manuscript to find 1000 pages of "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Feedback has been positive, and things are moving along. Slowly, painstakingly, but I'm getting there.<br />
<br />
"So, what are you up to these days?"<br />
<br />
This is the question that I always feel compelled to answer honestly. I wish I could just make up something out of whole cloth, a scenario that could disengage the whole line of inquiry about the novel and clear my potentially flaky reputation at the same time, but I can't seem to help myself. Friends know I work freelance in corporate film and video production, but that profession has gradually dwindled down to a few small jobs a year. If you catch me more than a month after such a job, chances are I won't remember who the job was for, let alone have anything interesting to say about it. When you ask what I'm doing, I have to say something, right?<br />
<br />
"Lately I spend most of my free time working on personal writing projects," I'll say, or something to that effect. (My ego does admittedly play a role in this, otherwise I might simply allow people to imagine I spend my mornings on Pilates and my afternoons getting French mani-pedis). <br />
<br />
"So, you're still working on that novel?" <br />
<br />
Here we go.<br />
<br />
"It's a tetralogy-- four novels. They're interrelated and non-linear so I have to work on all of them at once. But I'm enjoying it... we'll see how it goes," I say, my mind racing as I try to find a graceful segue to another topic and still keep a positive look on my face. I could add, "And besides, I'm crafting it carefully because I'm thinking of it as a literary work," except for the fact that this distinction isn't something an author can claim. It's a status conferred by others via a mysterious process nobody completely understands.<br />
<br />
At least I have friends. At least they care enough to ask, right?<br />
<br />
The other day, while on vacation out of state, I was enjoying lunch with friends I rarely see. I kept engaged in other lines of discussion to stretch out the time as long as I could, but eventually someone asked what I've been doing since they last saw me. Any movie jobs? No, that's been pretty slow. Well, what then?<br />
<br />
My mind raced. Cooking classes! That's it! I'll tell them that. But... nah. Watching a couple of TV cooking shows a week doesn't count. Maybe it's enough to say "Not much; mostly housework"! Sure, right? No; they'd remember my less-than-perfect house and garden. Or maybe my fashion doll hobby; that might work. But my workshop door has been closed for weeks and I have no doll conventions coming up, so I can't use that. Besides, that activity is almost harder to explain than the writing. <br />
<br />
"Well, I've been on a big push to finish writing my books," I began in a small voice, steeling myself. <br />
<br />
She cast me a look. Apparently this gal wasn't going to give me a pass on that one, having heard this from me the last time we got together. <br />
<br />
"Who cares how it ends?" She said suddenly, her voice rising. "What DIFFERENCE does it make?" She was laughing, but I saw something in her eyes. A feeling of dread crept over me.<br />
"Here's what you do," she continued. The others at the table were silent, eating and casually waiting. "You just... KILL EVERYBODY!"<br />
<br />
There was no stopping her now; I knew this. I kept my face carefully neutral.<br />
<br />
"I know... You can have a BIG GAS EXPLOSION," she said, clearly enjoying herself. "Nobody gets out. PROBLEM SOLVED."<br />
<br />
Several thoughts occurred to me almost at once: with pangs of genuine sadness I imagined the loss of my beloved characters. Oh, the humanity! I thought again of how important book endings are. I mused over my characteristic reluctance to have any harm come to my characters, let alone untimely deaths, and reminded myself how that inclination can impede a book. I reflected on the arbitrary nature of violence in stories and how writers often feel compelled to jump the shark just to keep things interesting. And finally I thought about how great it would be to not be drilled and grilled about my book until it's time to announce its publication. <br />
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But of course, it's way too late to fix things. Not unless I tell people my manuscript was lost in a tragic gas explosion...brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-52904193020689774772012-06-06T15:23:00.001-07:002012-06-06T15:23:06.194-07:00ray bradbury: a chair never empty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3zU6HMMZxf8/T8_X7XKH6KI/AAAAAAAABRM/xMbZEFS4020/s1600/ray+bradbury+chair+with+dinosaur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3zU6HMMZxf8/T8_X7XKH6KI/AAAAAAAABRM/xMbZEFS4020/s320/ray+bradbury+chair+with+dinosaur.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-18098372684505777622012-06-06T10:11:00.000-07:002012-07-08T15:05:04.533-07:00ray bradbury forever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_HHAZXc9a58/T8-Ouh_jaAI/AAAAAAAABQ4/EPDK0OLoBxc/s1600/Ray+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_HHAZXc9a58/T8-Ouh_jaAI/AAAAAAAABQ4/EPDK0OLoBxc/s320/Ray+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_4fcf97edc7b6f7f09722582">
Ray touched countless lives, mine included. I was blessed to visit him in November, which I will never forget. Strokes had taken their toll on him, but friends and family kept his days full. Since he could no longer see well enough to read,<span class="text_exposed_show"> fortunate people would read aloud to him. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">The story he chose for me to read aloud was "The One Who Waits", eerily appropriate as it was a story I well remembered from when I was twelve years old and reading one of his books for the first time, "The Machineries of Joy". I was honored to hold his hand and thank him for his immeasurable contribution to my well being. It is no exaggeration to say I would be a different person if not for him. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">The day of his passing was also the day of a rare celestial event, the Transit of Venus. Although Ray is forever associated with the planet Mars (he even had a driver's license for that planet!), he left us on a day marked by Venus, for love.</span></div>
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August 22, 1920 -- June 5, 2011</div>
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"Live forever!"</div>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-10723556889268795062012-06-02T17:00:00.002-07:002012-09-19T07:30:32.475-07:00dream realized: the writing retreat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4OblaDsjT1s/T_R1SRrprdI/AAAAAAAABTU/4mky3TAYKCA/s1600/utah+writing+retreat+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4OblaDsjT1s/T_R1SRrprdI/AAAAAAAABTU/4mky3TAYKCA/s320/utah+writing+retreat+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally: two weeks of blissful solitude to work on my writing. This was my cozy, convenient setup in St. George, Utah where I was housesitting. My injured ankle was, in a curious way, a blessing in disguise as it helped confine me to the condo and away from restaurants and outlet stores. <br />
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To keep things simple I slept on the sofa. All of my notes and papers were organized and in front of me, my iPad to one side and my notebook computer winking and ready. All I needed to do each day, for the most part, was become vertical and get to work.<br />
<br />brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-62568081230597404042012-04-25T15:13:00.001-07:002012-04-25T15:13:49.310-07:00san diego rolling british car daybrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-54521501437803061302012-04-24T09:04:00.001-07:002012-04-24T09:04:10.394-07:00jonathan frid, goodbye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6LcI6wEb0Yo/T5bO4JC2HzI/AAAAAAAABQs/4YRB4G0Gs_0/s1600/fridUKphoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6LcI6wEb0Yo/T5bO4JC2HzI/AAAAAAAABQs/4YRB4G0Gs_0/s320/fridUKphoto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-47960784636555795902012-04-08T07:44:00.001-07:002012-04-08T07:46:10.615-07:00easter greetings to my easter friends<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtPNiuBK_AM/T4GkpV_o8FI/AAAAAAAABQg/pxVMxvHSrTM/s1600/easter%2Bvintage"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729041231177642066" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TtPNiuBK_AM/T4GkpV_o8FI/AAAAAAAABQg/pxVMxvHSrTM/s400/easter%2Bvintage" /></a> <br /><div></div>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-73266879171622017082012-03-30T20:36:00.001-07:002012-03-30T20:39:17.654-07:00saved for a rainy daybrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-15082882574351795312012-03-29T22:08:00.002-07:002012-03-29T22:10:33.054-07:00writing retreat: a wish comes true?Amazing. It might actually come to pass that I have the opportunity to run off somewhere alone and finish the novel(s) in April. For security reasons I'll report on the specifics of this escapade after the fact.brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-31555840998283030592012-03-24T14:13:00.003-07:002012-03-24T14:18:33.930-07:00verdi's macbeth at the met<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bb6eOpmXk9E/T245iNJRbFI/AAAAAAAABQQ/6yVwzPP8gsU/s1600/MacBeth.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723575436241366098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bb6eOpmXk9E/T245iNJRbFI/AAAAAAAABQQ/6yVwzPP8gsU/s400/MacBeth.jpg" /></a> Photo is from the Met website and is not mine. Shared here with a handful of friends in the spirit of enthusiasm for the Met and its productions, and with thanks to the talented photographer, performers, set and costume designer, and staging artists.brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-83708958847660868452012-03-24T11:17:00.025-07:002012-03-30T19:29:36.336-07:00opera with a friendAs I write this, I'm delighted to be with a dear friend at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City for a performance of Verdi's "Macbeth".<br /><br />Musically this is unfamiliar territory to me, but Verdi being Verdi and the Met being the Met, I'm sure it'll be a shiny experience on a Saturday.<br /><br />It all started earlier this morning in my home office in San Diego. A little back and forth on Facebook, a warmup on my coffee, and this happy email from a friend winked open in my In-box:<br /><br />I am on a train to NYC to see the Verdi opera Macbeth & it's hard to type. (bumpy ride). But, did you see the piece in AT mentioning Bradbury? Hope all is well with you.<br /><br />More Later,<br />H<br /><br />Within a half second a series of vivid images raced across my mental workspace: New Yorkers bundled in winter coats on a rocking train, my friend stopping a moment to reach into her pocketbook and type the email on her iPhone; then some wandering around before the opera, the stairs at Lincoln Center, the massive and iconic chandelier, a walk down carpeted aisle, the stage with its aura of anticipation, the pre-opera murmur accented by occasional practice flute trills, violin scales, and glimpses of tympany like familiar distant thunder.<br /><br />My day was shaping up. I reminded myself to read the article about Ray. Mindful she was on her iPhone, thinking I might catch her en route, I kept my reply brief:<br /><br />Can't wait to read it. You're on a train to see Verdi's Macbeth?! I wish I were too! Have a fabulous time! /hugs b<br /><br />More time then passed with me wandering around cyberspace. I tracked down a way to listen to the broadcast.<br /><br />Noon was a ways off, but my stomach began growling. I rejoined my own space/time continuum long enough to reheat some leftover lasagna in my home office microwave. Between mouthfuls I clicked my way to some basic information on this opera. Seems Verdi created the work fairly early in his career, before he gifted the world with La Traviata or Rigoletto. The 1847 version of Macbeth was apparently very successful. The 1865 revision, produced for Paris in a French translation, was less successful and the opera largely faded from public view until the mid-20th century revivals.<br /><br />As I type here about my morning, the Lincoln Center audience is now applauding at the conclusion of Act 3. An ominous drum roll and Act 4 has now begun while I return to writing this story.<br /><br />I thought about Verdi in his tall hat and dapper ascot, and I thought about the time period of his compositions. Then I thought about the last time I was in New York.<br /><br />Another email blinked open. H again, and this time it was an iPhone photo of a red gown in the Opera Shop at the Met. It's an incredibly perfect you-are-there moment, and I had a huge wave of the incredible wow-ness of this kind of communication and connection.<br /><br />I fired back:<br /><br />That gives me a happy chill.<br /><br />b<br /><br />The broadcast quality was good. As I began to listen to the pre-opera chat, it was then I decided to share my morning's anecdote-in-progress with my father, who has a natural feel for this kind of thing. He's 500 miles away but I have unlimited long distance calling so it's like he's across the street.<br /><br />The same opera was obviously playing in the background as Daddy picked up the phone. I chattered away and brought him up to speed.<br /><br />We talked for a while. He loved how my New York friend was at the opera and sending me emails, and that I was having a virtual opera adventure and now sharing it with him. More catching up, and it eased into a multi-subject conversation that included his recommendation of the new mystery novel "After the Poison" which sounded so good that while we were talking, I ordered a Kindle copy for myself.<br /><br />As I type this the last act of Macbeth has two more scenes. I hope to synchronize the posting of this article with the closing applause and joyful bravos in real time.<br /><br />Anyway, I again emailed my friend H:<br /><br />I'm listening live! YAYY-- enjoying the opera with my dear friend!<br /><br />b<br /><br />She wrote back:<br /><br />Oh how exciting. I was wishing you were here. Now you are. Only thing I just read it's set post WWII so costumes will be more modern. 1st act 80 minutes long. That's long! Now, must turn off cell in theater. :-)<br /><br />H<br /><br />And I couldn't resist writing one more note:<br /><br />This is great! I get to clap right along with you guys & imagine myself there...<br /><br />b<br /><br />Now I was thinking not only of my friend 3,000 miles away but also my father in the Bay Area who, as it turns out, had just spoken on the phone with his lady friend in Utah... who was also listening to the broadcast. He said he looked forward to sharing my story with her.<br /><br />More coffee. More reading about Giuseppe Verdi. What would that fellow make of all this astonishing magic?<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />I've caught up to real time, now.<br /><br />And so it is that I'm magically in New York on a Saturday, listening to an opera I've never heard before. Soon my friend and I will both be clapping our hands.<br /><br />Click, send. Clap.<br /><br />Bravo!brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-63476733358340974222012-03-24T06:53:00.002-07:002017-02-15T21:44:25.906-08:00new van gogh painting, new mozart compositionThis week has seen some interesting developments in the world of the arts. If I learn anything worthwhile or pick up some credible tidbits, I'll post them here.<br />
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Maybe take another look into this, now that it's February 15, 2017 and I'm stopping by from the future...brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-25260040360712628682012-03-23T07:22:00.001-07:002012-03-23T07:26:55.241-07:00constructing a tetralogybrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-5674083651341727262012-03-20T22:52:00.004-07:002012-03-21T13:26:52.309-07:00little italy, crochet scarf, steve martin's 'pure drivel', dr. horrible's sing-along blog, tavern nachos & pinot noirbrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-73250109965455260932012-03-17T22:08:00.002-07:002012-03-17T22:08:56.787-07:00love & worrybrenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-3639453631484500492012-03-13T09:58:00.003-07:002012-03-13T10:06:48.640-07:00art of tea part one<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0T6q83N5pds/T19-jkSpeOI/AAAAAAAABQA/PYwgUxClns0/s1600/green%2Btea%2Bimage.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719429201286232290" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0T6q83N5pds/T19-jkSpeOI/AAAAAAAABQA/PYwgUxClns0/s400/green%2Btea%2Bimage.jpg" /></a>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954966970919940686.post-58550432834037605692012-03-11T07:40:00.006-07:002012-03-11T08:03:24.148-07:00inside the notebook<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i1LpGfRYIpE/T1y-g3pYs9I/AAAAAAAABPg/E8JoZ6NPdrI/s1600/art%2Bhistory_edited-4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718655098756314066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i1LpGfRYIpE/T1y-g3pYs9I/AAAAAAAABPg/E8JoZ6NPdrI/s400/art%2Bhistory_edited-4.jpg" /></a>brenda cox giguerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06566513024203327058noreply@blogger.com0