Sunday, June 25, 2017

Musings on the 2017 Solstice

I'm a bit off the Solstice, summer's return, but recently came across for a second time the title below  - prompting some thoughts:

The Muse of Urban Delirium: How the Performing Arts ...

This collection of essays seeks answers to the challenges of urban diversity, conflict, and creativity by examining the emergence of musical and theatrical originality in a series of specific cities at particular times. It does so by using various performing arts - opera, dance ...

This comes out of the Woodrow Wilson (Smithsonian) think tank and, however idealistic and even reverent the tone, it gave me pause regarding many aspects of the urban condition and how life in close-packed communities veers between the best and worst of worlds. I also was prompted by a recent afternoon session with an Apple, Inc., technician replying somewhere in the world to my appeal to figure a perplexing problem (hardly a major one): my Samsung printer, that only recently printed wireless, had gone on strike. No matter what options arose, two and a half hours later we had no solution - and the jinx was that I had no notion of why the machine suddenly balked and then why Apple could not make the laptop keyboard move at my command at some point. We were cut off at every corner: perplexed,  undone. Wasted time and effort and no wisdom gained. So, it seems, goes the presentThus seem the present perplexing questions of how high and low or no income people live together  where a tax base determines personal wellbeing. Without overriding federal programs to balance the extremes, where are we to turn in an effort to maintain the so-called democratic experiment?

Does the digital age have some built-in sermons to preach? That forget rational thought, maybe even instinctual thought, since nobody is in charge beyond random and bewildering efforts at change.
And another way to scope the city scene: a visit to Washington's National Gallery of Art's current exhibit through early August (The Urban Scene), a showing of prints in many mediums done by master craftsmen and one lone woman. with a well -informed NGA employe of 39 years explicating in detail historic and technical details of works on view. A cursory look at artist's views of city life (New York especially but also Chicago, Philadelphia, Los Angeles) many of them architects who turned to drawing - lithographs (prints) in many technical forms. A 'View of NY" in 1932 that is a tribute to the landscape of towers;  a study in patterns of light under the old El (elevated subway),  a view of Philadelphia at rush hour in 1950 and, my favorite, an 'aquatint' from 1932 titled "Civic Insomnia" - an affectionate portrait of a city in constant motion.  These are only a few of the 130,000 works on paper available to the public (individuals requesting on-site intimate views of the originals without glass cover). The exhibit gives a viewer a glimpse of how the artist saw the world around him/her as well as  insights into  society of the time - from 1920-1950.

Saturday, June 3, 2017

QM2 on the Ocean Blue

Oh Cunard, I can't get rid of you though I suppose I brought it on myself when I signed to cross the North Atlantic aboard the  Queen Mary2 (largest, maybe only, ocean liner to do these crossings - never a 'cruise,' heaven forbid). I am now considered a member of  a new tribe. A Cunardier, or something like that - the company's outreach is incessant. Emails  and flashy satin brochures arriving in the mail. The marketing hype is the most aggressive I've encountered since I last signed a political petition.

The ship - glamorous, the mightiest afloat - does pull rank. Aboard, however, is another matter.
With the QM2 you pay as you go and you go as you pay.  Everything above basics of food and shelter is charged. A basic fee is one thing  - it's possible to book an inside cabin (no view, poor you) for only hundreds - but 'tip money' is a required add-on for the stewards, and of course one is pressured to sign up for insurance in case something prevents you or the ship from sailing.
If you are in one of the more expensive cabins that allow you on the ship early, you are first in line for  'behind the scenes tour' and a mere $120 will be added to the credit card registered before you board. The official entry point is when, in exchange for a valid credit card, you are handed a personalized plastic Cunard card with your name and cabin number - an identity card of sorts for all out of pocket expenses.

(Personal note: many decades ago I came and went to Europe several times on student ships, so-called: bunk beds dormitory style, buffet meals only, guard rails everywhere to keep plates and glasses in place. A rock and roll time  when entertainment was what you made for yourself. I don't recall paying extra for anything aboard, so basic were the amenities.)

I managed to be waitlisted for a second QM2 tour that showered me  with such souvenirs as  a chef's hat, a chef's apron, a gold Cunard emblem pin, a diploma, a letter of appreciation and a photograph of our group that had my  face  obscured. The latter was hand delivered to my cabin following the afternoon we  spent three hours climbing and walking, talking and listening as various department heads explained their duties. Good performances, all.  We  had high tea and champagne flutes and an intimate encounter with the captain, a genial scarecrow  with impeccable social graces as might be expected of a Cunard super chief. Not snooty upper class inflected manners. Everyday pleasant relaxed ones. The captain stands at attention for a welcoming cocktail reception. He smiles throughout. White gloved waiters in gold buttons line up to greet visitors for the afternoon tea dance.

Three evening meals were listed as 'formal dress only' - long or else elaborate cocktail attire - though no one I saw was ushered out of the dining room if they had forgotten or ignored the rules.

Which was another surprise worth noting (apart from the complexities of operating this floating city where passengers and staff total well over 3000 each trip). Two upper decks  with private eat-anytime restaurants called grills were reserved for the high rollers and thus were the only parts of the ship officially off limits (except for the kennels where, in theory anyway, only pet owners were allowed). A top class French restaurant called the Verandah had a three course lunch for $20 open to all.

Likewise, a planetarium, an auditorium seating - truly? - 1,400, a library boasting 10,000 volumes was available (checking out only two at a time) and a modest store selling travel tales and history ventures. The entire ship had a nostalgic feel: walls lined with panels recalling Cunard's past, valiant service in wars of old, etc. The morning power point lectures touted old-time movie stars such as Fred Astaire and Cole Porter - blemishes and all.

 What memories remains from such an escape? Above all, it was communality - albeit an exclusive one allowing friendliness brought on by knowing we existed in a unique and temporary environment.  The short seven day journey brought passengers together in surprising ways no matter the difference in prices paid.