Art, Music, and Dance in the Lone Star state
“Now and then, from the deep, hidden river of life, great spirits in human form are thrown up,” Henry Miller wrote in 1956. “Like semaphores in the night they warn of danger ahead,” he continues. The phrase is from The Time of Assassins and refers to the French poet Arthur Rimbaud. On a hot Sunday afternoon I had this particular book, along with my journal, tucked under my arm when I returned to Houston’s Station Museum of … [Read more...]
When I moved to Houston, I had to learn about the plants. I understood nothing of the humid sub-tropical environment or the strange soil. After several failed attempts in the dense clay of my patio garden, I turned to Equisetum hyemale, or “horsetail” reeds, which seem now to be thriving. I like watching things grow, and these reeds spread in a curious manner. The primary plants send their roots traveling until a barrier is … [Read more...]
Seven years ago in Toronto, at a Kalachakra initiation given by H.H. The 14th Dalai Lama, I saw secular Tibetan dancing for the first time. Of course, I saw much “devotional” dancing there as well, if that’s the right term. The preparations for this important Buddhist ritual require at least a week of effort from hundreds of people. In addition to creating an intricate sand mandala, the lamas perform Dance of the Earth, which … [Read more...]
It was early December 1957, only a few days after the legendary Maria Callas made her Dallas debut. TIME magazine reported, “As of today, Dallas is on the map as an opera town along with New York, San Francisco and Chicago.” I wonder, though, if today any of those cities could hold a candle to what’s going on here in northern Texas. I'm fully aware of the audacity of that statement, and I know what you're thinking. The best American … [Read more...]
Every so often, a pianist comes along who changes my life. This happened in D.C., when I listened to Peter Serkin juxtapose Beethoven and Stefan Wolpe. It happened one night in a faded Victorian living room in Hartford, when Edmund Niemann played John Adams' Phrygian Gates, only a few years after the piece had premiered in San Francisco. It certainly was the case for me when Barenboim played the late Beethoven sonatas. And it happened again … [Read more...]
Before moving to Houston, “Sound and Vision” suggested to me David Bowie’s flashy 1990 tour, the name taken from one of my favorite tracks on his legendary Low. But now the phrase reminds me more of Houston Symphony, with its ongoing “Sound Plus Vision” series. During the 24 years that I lived in Boston, I don’t recall ever seeing visual projections at Symphony Hall. I suppose it would have been unthinkable to that conservative … [Read more...]
He says his music continues an American tradition “exemplified by artists such as Charles Ives and Bob Dylan.” I could hear influences of both in a seven-minute excerpt from his latest opera, Voir Dire, on a libretto by Jason Zencka. Friday, I predicted that Matthew Peterson would win this year’s Opera Vista Festival. Saturday, it was announced here in Houston that Peterson did, in fact, win the competition. Next year around this time, … [Read more...]
It seemed inevitable that my love of television “reality” competitions would cross with my fascination in opera, but I had no idea this would happen in Texas. If you want to know what’s going on in contemporary opera today (and I mean that literally), you need to be here in Houston. The thrilling Opera Vista Festival introduced six composers of new operas on Wednesday, and based on audience response to brief performances, two have … [Read more...]
Since Houston Grand Opera's recent premiere of Dead Man Walking, I've been reflecting on the wealth of great librettists in the American operatic tradition. If I were on a television game show and had only 30 seconds to mention as many as I could, my "gut reaction" list would start with Gertrude Stein (Four Saints in Three Acts and The Mother of Us All for Virgil Thomson), continue with Gian Carlo Menotti (The Consul, and many others, for … [Read more...]
If Janis Joplin hadn’t succumbed to that fatal dose of heroin in 1970, today she might have been celebrating her 68th birthday. I’ve been thinking a lot about her since a recent trip to Los Angeles, where I had the privilege of reading four letters she wrote to her family in the late 1960s and early 1970, part of an excellent exhibit at The Grammy Museum. “Mother and Dad,” she begins in one from San Franciso, “Right now my position … [Read more...]
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