Find a muse

To start with, those of you have not seen “Once”, do rent it as soon as it comes out!

Saw the Swell Season on the night that was my true day after birthday celebration and WOW!

My best femme friend and I took the ferry from Jack London Square in Oakland just as the sun set and then hopped a cable car up the hill (have not done that in many years) and went to dinner at a Thai Restaurant right by her work . . . and . . .

. . . after lots of great cathing-up-conversation I went to the bathroom and when I was coming back looked at the gal at the table beside us I suddenly realized that it was either Markéta Irglová or I was dillusional.

My femme friend and I walked out and I told her immediately that I thought it was them, who we were going to see, and she said, “nahhhh, I was looking at them while we were eating, no way”

Fast forward to them, The Swell Season, coming on after Martha Wainwright opened (yes the Martha Wainwright of Rufus Wainwriaght sisterhood fame who put on such an amazing set that I now want to see her on her own) . . . they walked on stage and we both looked at each other and said at the same time, “that was them”

Then they played one of the best, stripped down, cathartic concerts I’ve seen in ages. Glen Hansard was not only vocally masterful in a sweetly haunting way, but his storytelling inbeetween kept the audience enraptured in bow-down-and-enjoy ways! The Irish contingent was definetely in effect and the fact that the Frames were (unnanounced) as backing them up threw the entire Scottish Masonic Temple atmosphere of the setting into times of utmost revelry.

They were simply amazing! They closed with a Danial Johnston song about being living in a vampire city and realizing one was a vampire too. A classic Danniel Jouhnston song I have heard before but to have Glen get everyone to sing along and snap their fingers to the song was CLASSIC!

Great show all around!

When I was 21, I had the opportunity to see a production of the play “the Misanthrope” by the French playwright Moliere in of all places Stockholm, Sweden. I had been a fan of Moliere for several years after doing a semester of intensive scene study with a guest professor in Acting from the Netherlands.

The National Theatre of Sweden was putting on the production and since the country is Socialist, every artistic resource was made available for production. The director of the play was to be the internationally famous filmmaker Igmar Bergman.

I knew little about Bergman or is films, but did know his name much as one would know a household name of this caliber. That would change the evening of the play forever.

The performance was one of three that weekend and was to be a preview. However, unlike the American style of previewing a play, this preview run was to last the three days and then end. The cast and director would then go back into rehearsals for the next two months and have the true opening after fine tuning what they had learned from the audience reaction.

The show I attended was sold out. My father had pulled some strings juts to get the one ticket and would not be able to see it with me.

The play was performed in Swedish. It was to this day the best theatrical performance that I have ever witnessed, hands down. It put creative chills down my spine. When the play ended and the actors took their curtain call the audience rose to their feet without thinking, as if they were being pulled up to heaven by invisible angels. I stood with them lost in awe, wildly applauding. I knew that this director had achieved what I would live my life to achieve.

To Beethoven it was the Ode To Joy. To Michelangelo it was the Sistine Chapel. What is it? It is the constant sculpting of one’s craft and artistic ability to create an impression that makes humanity stand on its feet with an ovation of pure fulfillment and love.

The last one I had is now married with kid and living in Portland. Not really having the same magic on me.