my, what a difference the sight of sunshine and blue sky (not to mention warmth) can make in a girl’s life… a long weekend in Marseille with good friends (L’Estaque, actually… I can vouch for why Cézanne and all those painters chose to live there – the light, that exact shade of blue in the sky, is unlike anywhere else)… markets & music, hikes in the hills, ferry to Frioul, cous-cous in the quartier…. a brief but ecstatic dose of mediterranean living that was exactly what the doctor ordered – I could feel myself opening like a flower….
to combat the hedonism, sunday was the anniversary of the Japan ‘quake & Fukushima disaster, so we drove to Avignon to take part in the 235 km Chaine Humaine from Avignon to Lyon (the area of most of france’s nuclear plants) – my friend Christian, whom I went to visit, and whom I’ve known since we were 14, always reminds me what it is to be a socially responsible human being, in the nicest possible way… a grand day out with kids and grannies, students and shopkeepers hand in hand, all 60,000 of us inching along to join the dots… (it’s missing from the photo journal – couldn’t take pictures because my hands were otherwise occupied) – we also went to a wonderful benefit concert/party the night before at Rouge, a restaurant run by friends – a food drive combined with all kinds of music – african percussion, classical piano trio, lyric chansons, R&B and swing – again, kids and grannies and all in between, a real clubhouse for the community…
en route to marseille I stopped in london for some other “culture” (staying with a friend whom I’ve known since I was seven- we’re talking real roots here). Tate Modern (Kusama and Boetti), Tate Britain (Picasso & the Brits), and Rossini at the Hackney Empire (Barber of Seville), a fabulously restored old vaudeville palace, worthy of the florid lines of the barber’s arias… Kusama’s Infinity Room will stay with me for a very long time… good meals with good friends, one day being breakfast in Cotherstone, lunch in Putney, dinner in Balham, nightcap in Tufnell Park… thank god for London Transport. In spite of all the travel, I feel fully restored.
I’ve been reading Morton Feldman’s collected writings, “Give my regards to eighth street” – what a revelation he is. He had somehow passed me by all these years, until I heard Neither at City Opera last year, as part of the Monodramas evening (with Zorn and Schoenberg), great night, particularly the Feldman, which knocked my socks off. And now this (I found it at the South London Gallery last time I was down) – I find myself constantly saying “Yes!” – particularly when he talks about not being able to work until he has found the perfect chair… and his connection with the visual arts…