When we purchase an item, whether it’s a blender, a car, or a really cool toboggan for snowmageddon races, the purchaser owns what the bought and can modify it to their heart’s content. Buying an artistic work, on the other hand and the ownership is joint, with some right going to the buyer while others are retained by the work’s creator.Read all about it here.
Monday, February 02, 2015
Creator or Buyer: Who Really Owns the Art?
Sunday, February 01, 2015
How to turn $5,000 into $5.2M in 18 months
The award for the most compelling market tale undoubtedly goes to the third highest-selling painting, a rediscovered John Constable landscape, Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows (1831), that sold for $5.2 million, far exceeding its $3 million high estimate. The consignor had acquired the work at Christie's London in July 2013, and paid a mere $5,300 for it, but then set about getting the work authenticated as a Constable. (See Sotheby's Ratchets Up Price on Rediscovered Constable).
See the whole article by Eileen Kinsella here.
Do you think that the previous owner, who dished this out for $5K, is pissed off that he/she didn't do due diligence?
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Visions of Home
Submission Deadline: February 20, 2015
The Art Connection in the Capital Region (ACCR) invites you to participate in Visions of Home, an exhibition and art placement project presented in conjunction with the Arts Management Program at the College of Visual and Performing Arts at George Mason University (GMU).
Visions of Home will feature original artwork that embodies the idea of "home". The artwork will be placed within nonprofit organizations that provide affordable housing to underserved communities throughout Northern Virginia. The artwork, selected by the participating nonprofits, will be considered a donation to the agencies for permanent display.
Read the prospectus
The Art Connection in the Capital Region (ACCR) invites you to participate in Visions of Home, an exhibition and art placement project presented in conjunction with the Arts Management Program at the College of Visual and Performing Arts at George Mason University (GMU).
Visions of Home will feature original artwork that embodies the idea of "home". The artwork will be placed within nonprofit organizations that provide affordable housing to underserved communities throughout Northern Virginia. The artwork, selected by the participating nonprofits, will be considered a donation to the agencies for permanent display.
Read the prospectus
Friday, January 30, 2015
Wanna go to a museum talk tomorrow?
Photoworks: Presence of Place
American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center
January 24 through March 15, 2015Artist Gallery Talk: January 31, 2015, 4PM
American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center
4400 Massachusetts Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20016
Museum Hours: 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM, Tuesday-Sunday
PARTICIPATING ARTISTS
Elsie Hull Sprague Brad Beukema Joe Cameron
Tanguy de Carbonnieres Eliot Cohen Sora DeVore
Rebecca Drobis Saman Michael Far Peggy Fleming
Henry Friedman Sheila Galagan Frank (Tico) Herrera
Michael Horsley Karen Keating Michael Lang
Julie Miller David Myers Christine Pearl
Mark Power Molly Roberts Gayle Rothschild
Sarah Hood Salomon Sonia Suter Grace Taylor
Tom Wolff Alejandra Vallejo Fred Zafran
Judith Walser
EXHIBITION OVERVIEW
Forty years ago, in a derelict building hidden among the abandoned amusement park rides of Glen Echo Park, four young photographers founded Photoworks with little more than a shared passion for the daily work of seeing, shooting, and printing images of lasting beauty and artistic integrity.
Photoworks: Presence of Place will feature works by past and present members of the Photoworks community, faculty and students who have distinguished themselves by the quality and integrity of their work. This exhibition is in memory of Elsie Hull Sprague, an artist with a MA in Film from the School of Communication, American University.
American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center
January 24 through March 15, 2015Artist Gallery Talk: January 31, 2015, 4PM
American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center
4400 Massachusetts Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20016
Museum Hours: 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM, Tuesday-Sunday
PARTICIPATING ARTISTS
Elsie Hull Sprague Brad Beukema Joe Cameron
Tanguy de Carbonnieres Eliot Cohen Sora DeVore
Rebecca Drobis Saman Michael Far Peggy Fleming
Henry Friedman Sheila Galagan Frank (Tico) Herrera
Michael Horsley Karen Keating Michael Lang
Julie Miller David Myers Christine Pearl
Mark Power Molly Roberts Gayle Rothschild
Sarah Hood Salomon Sonia Suter Grace Taylor
Tom Wolff Alejandra Vallejo Fred Zafran
Judith Walser
EXHIBITION OVERVIEW
Forty years ago, in a derelict building hidden among the abandoned amusement park rides of Glen Echo Park, four young photographers founded Photoworks with little more than a shared passion for the daily work of seeing, shooting, and printing images of lasting beauty and artistic integrity.
Photoworks: Presence of Place will feature works by past and present members of the Photoworks community, faculty and students who have distinguished themselves by the quality and integrity of their work. This exhibition is in memory of Elsie Hull Sprague, an artist with a MA in Film from the School of Communication, American University.
Peck on Schwartzberg
DMV artist Judith Peck reviews Deanna Schwartzberg at the gorgeous Art Museum of the Americas:
It
was my pleasure to attend the opening reception of “Primal Connections” a one-person
show by local artist, Deanna Schwartzberg, at the Art Museum of the Americas F
Street Gallery.
It is a deceptively
simple, long, and brightly lit grand hall. Deanna's intensely jewel
colored palette and assured brush strokes lit up the space.
As
curator of the exhibition, “Primal Connections”, Ana Maria Ascano tells us; “Viewing
the art of Deanna Schwartzberg is like reading a favorite poem.” This thought stayed with me as I viewed an
array of paintings beautifully composed, with the artist’s unique understanding
of color and light. These works spoke to
me in an indirect manner, the way poetry does, igniting the mind and senses and
making the artist’s subject matter all the more intense and powerful.
For many years, Deanna has been working with the interconnection of
humanity and the world of nature. She gave an intriguing talk about how she
went from nonobjective painting to finding her voice in paintings that invite
us, the viewer, to discover with her the fluid relationship between body and
nature. In her larger works a powerful
figure merges with an abstracted landscape. The subject matter resonates, and
her color choices are so inventive that we feel we are discovering places we
have been, perhaps only in a dream.
Along with eight large figurative pieces, the artist has an
installation of 28 small painted faces.
The poem by the artist, Primal Connections, is the source of inspiration
for these works. The faces, each have a feminine name for one of the elements: earth,
fire and air. Each one is different and expressive in its own way. Neither happy, sad, scared nor surprised,
they appear to be centered in their own thoughts and feelings and part of the
drama and wonder of the world that surrounds them.
You can contact the museum or the artist directly at
schwartzbergart@verizon.net to find out when tours are available. Hours are by
appointment only.
“Primal Connections”
Paintings by Deanna Schwartzberg
Art
Museum of the Americas F Street Gallery,
1889 F
St NW,
Washington,
DC
Opening Reception Jan 28 Jan28 through March 6, 2015.
Opening Reception Jan 28 Jan28 through March 6, 2015.
Contact; Art Museum of the Americas, 202- 370- 0151, for
appointments and tours.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Why Self-Censorship of Controversial Artwork is Wrong
Read the whole piece by JJ Charlesworth in artnetnews here.Following the shocking events of the massacres and sieges in Paris, a debate has raged over whether or not to publish images of the prophet Muhammad for fear of reprisals, apparently from whichever shadowy fundamentalists might be out there.So, the latest news, that London's Victoria & Albert Museum quietly pulled from its website a reproduction of a 1990 Iranian poster depicting Muhammad, held in the V&A's collection, is dispiriting. Citing the level of “security alert" the V&A has to operate under, a spokeswoman defended that the work, “as with most of our reserve collections, would be made available to scholars and researchers by appointment."
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Broken Wing
It all started in the mid seventies (as I recall), when I was in the US Navy and suffered a shoulder injury which dislocated my right shoulder.
It was "popped" back in, but after that, over the years, it would almost pop out at will, and I even learned how to pop it back into the shoulder socket on my own.
It was immensely painful to do this process, but it was a brilliant flash of pain, followed by muscular pain for a few days afterwards.
Eventually I got so sick and tired of this (it once popped out when I was swimming and I nearly drowned), that I went back to sick bay and began weight training treatment, which essentially involved building up the shoulder muscles and thus keep the darn shoulder bone tight inside the socket.
On December 23rd it decided to make an exit, aided by a fall caused by a small rug slipping on hardwood floors.
And now, after a horrendous MRI, I am told that the injury to the shoulder, close to 40 years ago, has been causing issues with that shoulder, the bones, and eroded a lot of cartilage, and thus needs to go under the surgeon's knife.
4-6 weeks of immobile right shoulder follows, plus 6-9 months of intensive therapy.
It could have been worse... I could have landed on my head or busted my neck... but Feh!
I'm right-handed by the way.... double Feh!
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
When in Scotland - Part II
As I noted earlier, I was fortunate to have lived in gorgeous Scotland, perhaps the most beautiful country on planet Earth, from 1989-1992 (although I had been visiting it regularly several times a year starting in 1987).
This spectacular nation is an artist's dream come true, especially if you are a landscape artist (which I wasn't), but the sheer beauty of the Scottish landscape turned me into one... and over the years I produced hundreds of Scottish watercolors, pastels and drawings (and some etchings) which celebrated not only the Scottish landscape, but also all the "stuff" around me (I lived in a farmhouse built in 1532), such as sheep, horses, cows, Highland games, fish, and the brilliant Scottish people.
See some of my Scottish sheep pieces here, and enjoy the below art homages to Scotland.
This spectacular nation is an artist's dream come true, especially if you are a landscape artist (which I wasn't), but the sheer beauty of the Scottish landscape turned me into one... and over the years I produced hundreds of Scottish watercolors, pastels and drawings (and some etchings) which celebrated not only the Scottish landscape, but also all the "stuff" around me (I lived in a farmhouse built in 1532), such as sheep, horses, cows, Highland games, fish, and the brilliant Scottish people.
See some of my Scottish sheep pieces here, and enjoy the below art homages to Scotland.
North Sea, near Stonehaven, Angus, Scotland 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1989. In a private collection in Aberdeen, Scotland |
Loch Ness, Scotland 11x14 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1991. In a private collection in Montrose, Scotland |
Two Deer, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Brechin Road, Angus, Scotland 28x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1991. In a private collection in Brechin, Scotland |
Snowfall, near Braemar, Aberdeenshire, Scotland 16x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1989. In a private collection in Braemar, Scotland |
Back Road, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Norfolk, Virginia |
Seagulls Following the Plow, near Edzell, Angus, Scotland 40x32 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Boise, Idaho |
Road to Cairn O'Mount Pass, near Fettercairn, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in Banchory, Scotland |
Seagulls following the plow, near Stonehaven, Angus, Scotland 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1989. In a private collection in Aberdeen, Scotland |
Back Road, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in San Diego, California |
Back road, near Battledykes, Angus, Scotland 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1991. In a private collection in Aberdeen, Scotland |
Northern Lights, Back Road, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Seattle, Washington |
Just Before Trinity Fields, Enroute Brechin, Angus, Scotland 6x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Dundee, Scotland |
Back Road near Smiddie Wood, near Stracathro and Careston Estates, Angus, Scotland 12x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Brechin, Scotland |
River South Esk, near Brechin, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1991. In the Collection of the Earl of Southesk |
View of the Highlands, near Edzell, Angus, Scotland 10x14 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Fresno, California |
Back Road, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Trinity, Angus, Scotland 18x36 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in San Francisco, California |
North Sea, near Stonehaven, Angus, Scotland 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1989. In a private collection in St. Cyrus, Scotland |
Road near Kirriemuir, Angus, Scotland, where my daughters would take horse riding lessons 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In the Collection of the Earl of Southesk |
Back road near Laurencekirk, Angus, Scotland 7x10 inches. Ink wash on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in Brechin, Scotland |
Taking the walk behind the Blue Door, The Burns, near Edzell, Angus, Scotland 8x10 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1991 In a private collection in the United States |
View from Little Keithock Farmhouse, near Fettercairn, Angus, Scotland 28x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1992. In a private collection in Glasgow, Scotland |
View of the Highlands, near Maryculter, Angus, Scotland 30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in Montrose, Scotland |
Monday, January 26, 2015
Call for Artists: Bethesda Painting Awards
Deadline: Submissions must be received by Monday, February 20, 2015.
The Bethesda
Arts & Entertainment District is currently accepting applications
for the seventh annual Bethesda Painting Awards. Up to nine finalists
will be selected to display their work in an exhibition during the month
of June at Gallery B in downtown Bethesda, and the top four winners
will receive $14,000 in prize monies.
Best in Show will be awarded
$10,000; Second Place will be honored with $2,000 and Third Place will
receive $1,000. Additionally, a “Young Artist” whose birthday is after
February 20, 1985 may be awarded $1,000. Artists must be 18 years of age
or older and residents of Maryland, Virginia or Washington, D.C.
All
original 2-D paintings including oil, acrylic, watercolor, gouache,
encaustic and mixed media will be accepted. The maximum dimensions
should not exceed 60 inches in width or 84 inches in height. No
reproductions.
Artwork must have been completed within the last two
years and must be available for the duration of the exhibit. Each artist
must submit 5 images, application and a non-refundable fee of $25.
Digital entries will be accepted in JPG, GIF or PNG format. For a
complete application, please visit this link or
send a self-addressed stamped envelope to:
Bethesda Painting Awards
c/o Bethesda Arts & Entertainment District
7700 Old Georgetown
Road
Bethesda, MD 20814
Or call
301-215-6660 x117.
DC in NYC
Celebrating its 10th anniversary, PULSE Contemporary Art Fair returns for its New York edition from March 5 – 8, 2015 at the Metropolitan Pavilion in Chelsea and hard-working DMV gallerist Adah Rose will be at the coming Pulse New York art fair where she will be showcasing Joan Belmar, Brian Dupont, and Alan Steele.
When in Rome... I mean Scotland...
I was fortunate to have lived in gorgeous Scotland, perhaps the most
beautiful country on planet Earth, from 1989-1992 (although I had been
visiting it regularly several times a year starting in 1987).
This
spectacular nation is an artist's dream come true, especially if you
are a landscape artist (which I wasn't), but the sheer beauty of the
Scottish landscape turned me into one... and over the years I produced
hundreds of Scottish watercolors, pastels and drawings (and some
etchings) which celebrated not only the Scottish landscape, but also all
the "stuff" around me (I lived in a farmhouse built in 1532), such as
sheep, horses, cows, Highland games, fish, and the brilliant Scottish
people.
Here are some of the hundreds of pieces that I did on sheep, which were essentially everywhere!
Sheep in a field near Fettercairn, Angus, Scotland
26 x 40 inches, Pastel on paper, c. 1989
In a private collection in Edzell, Scotland
|
View from Little Keithock Farmhouse, near Fettercairn, Angus, Scotland
30x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990.
In a private collection in Montrose, Scotland
Field off the A90, near Fettercairn, Angus, Scotland 12x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in Brooklyn, New York Blackface Highlanders, near Inverbervie, Angus, Scotland 12x40 inches. Watercolor on paper, c. 1990. In a private collection in Arbroath, Scotland |
Blackface Highlanders, near Glamis Castle, Forfar, Angus, Scotland 20x40 inches. Pen and ink wash on paper, c. 1992 In a private collection in Banff, Scotland |
Blackface Highlander, near Dunnottar Castle, Angus, Scotland 28x40 inches. Pen and ink on paper, c. 1991 In a private collection in Stonehaven, Scotland |
Blackface Highlanders, near Little Keithock Farmhouse, Brechin Road, Angus, Scotland 30x30 inches. Pen and ink wash on paper, c. 1990 In a private collection in St. Andrews, Scotland |
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Burns Night
Burns Night is celebrated each year in Scotland (and around the world) on or around January 25. It is in celebration to commemorate the life of the bard (poet) Robert Burns, who was born on January 25, 1759. It is also a great excuse for Scots and people of Scottish ancestry around the world (where the one-drop rule applies) to get together and drink single malt, and eat haggis, and drink single malt.
I lived in a 307-year-old farmhouse in Scotland from 1989-1992. The farmhouse, which had a fireplace in almost every room, and two in the bathroom and two in the huge kitchen, was named Little Keithock Farmhouse and was full of ghosts, as my two daughters, Vanessa and Elise can testify to. That's my drawing of the house to the left.
My landlord (Mr. Stewart) was a really nice guy and a big wig in the nearest town, which was the most ancient village of Brechin, and in 1991 he invited me to the village's Burns Night and not only that, but also to its greatest honor: to deliver the Burns' ode to the haggis and then stab the beast... in case you don't know, the whole focus of the evening centers on the entrance of the haggis on a large platter to the haunting sounds of a piper playing bagpipes. As soon as the haggis is on the table, the host (in this case me) reads the "Address to a Haggis."
This is Robert Burns' ode written to that succulent Scottish dish. At the end of the reading, the haggis is ceremonially stabbed and sliced into two pieces and the meal begins.
This is what I was supposed to memorize and deliver:
Being the amazing Renaissance man that I am, I took the challenge, and for about three months, I practiced my Scottish accent, with the help of Vanessa and Elise's local Scottish babysitter.
I practiced and practiced, and she damned near died laughing most of the times... but towards the end she told me that I was pretty good and that I sounded like someone "from the Orkneys..."
On Burns' Night I arrived at the magnificent Victorian building that is the Brechin's Mechanics Hall, wearing my official US Navy kilt with the official US Navy tartan, ready for Freddy and confident about the challenge ahead.
And yes, my babysitter had advised me (as all Scots do to newbies just to screw with them) that I was supposed to go commando under the tartan, which I did, and which caused a nightmarish next-morning shower event worth of its own story).
Scots are some of the friendliest people on this planet and Scotland is easily the most beautiful land on that same planet, and as a key part of the Night, everyone wanted to treat me to a drink.
That where the problem started.
I got there on an empty stomach about 7PM, you see... and to make things worse, I don't really like Scotch, single malt or otherwise... I know, I know... heresy.
But as a good guest, I accepted the dozens of Scotches delivered to me by the region's nicest gentlemen, and of course, everyone had a toast, and so... ahhh, I drank a lot of Scotland's best-known product.
The only issue to my spectacular abilities to hold my booze was the fact that the haggis wasn't actually delivered until 11PM, and by then I was three sheets to the wind and as drunk as I have ever been but a hundred times worse!
I actually like haggis and whenever it is on the menu (here or there) I usually order it... most of you would gag if you knew what it is... cough, cough... so that's not the storyline here.
Anyway, around 11PM, I was tipped that the haggis was being delivered... the bagpipes began to cry that spectacular sound of the Celtic world, and the huge platter arrived.
I walked unsteadily towards it, grabbed the large, sharp knife, and as protocol calls for, began waving it around while I started, in my best Scottish accent, to pay homage to the haggis while at the same time trying not to slice off my ears.
The hall was silent, and a couple of hundred people followed my every word and movement of the knife, sculpting invisible shapes in the air.
And then, as called for, I stabbed the beast and cut it in two.
The hall exploded in applause and I walked back to my table... so far so good... other than the unexplained laughter.
Mr. Stewart, who was sitting next to me, was standing and clapping furiously, as was everyone else. This by itself, my addled brain registered, was curious, as Scots are great people, but rather reserved. To my slight alarm, I also noted that he was laughing really, really, really hard.
So hard, in fact, that tears were running down his face.
Oh, oh....
He slapped my back as he hugged me and continued to laugh, and placed yet another single malt on my hand.
"That was great!" (sounds like "gret" in Scottish) he shouted above the din, as tears ran down his handsome face, "We've never heard 'Address to a Haggis' recited in a Japanese accent before!"
"What a gret ideee!"
Put yourself in my place for a moment here... there are a couple of hundred Scots thinking that I just pulled a comedy routine on their sacred ode, and they're laughing their ass off, so it must have worked... right???
"I practiced like crazy," I said, suddenly quite sober.
And that's the story of how this guy delivered on a Burns' Night in Brechin, Scotland, got drunk on his ass, made a lot of really good, decent Scottish men laugh, and had a most memorable night.
The story of how I got home, as I clearly couldn't and didn't drive, is a story for another day... suffice it to say that thistles usually grow on the side of most Scottish back roads and that if you brush against them, you are really fucked for a while.
Scotch and thistles don't mix well on a really dark night in the Scottish country side.
I lived in a 307-year-old farmhouse in Scotland from 1989-1992. The farmhouse, which had a fireplace in almost every room, and two in the bathroom and two in the huge kitchen, was named Little Keithock Farmhouse and was full of ghosts, as my two daughters, Vanessa and Elise can testify to. That's my drawing of the house to the left.
My landlord (Mr. Stewart) was a really nice guy and a big wig in the nearest town, which was the most ancient village of Brechin, and in 1991 he invited me to the village's Burns Night and not only that, but also to its greatest honor: to deliver the Burns' ode to the haggis and then stab the beast... in case you don't know, the whole focus of the evening centers on the entrance of the haggis on a large platter to the haunting sounds of a piper playing bagpipes. As soon as the haggis is on the table, the host (in this case me) reads the "Address to a Haggis."
This is Robert Burns' ode written to that succulent Scottish dish. At the end of the reading, the haggis is ceremonially stabbed and sliced into two pieces and the meal begins.
This is what I was supposed to memorize and deliver:
As you can see, it is not written (nor delivered) in English, but in Old Scots language.Address to a Haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye worthy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis
Being the amazing Renaissance man that I am, I took the challenge, and for about three months, I practiced my Scottish accent, with the help of Vanessa and Elise's local Scottish babysitter.
I practiced and practiced, and she damned near died laughing most of the times... but towards the end she told me that I was pretty good and that I sounded like someone "from the Orkneys..."
On Burns' Night I arrived at the magnificent Victorian building that is the Brechin's Mechanics Hall, wearing my official US Navy kilt with the official US Navy tartan, ready for Freddy and confident about the challenge ahead.
And yes, my babysitter had advised me (as all Scots do to newbies just to screw with them) that I was supposed to go commando under the tartan, which I did, and which caused a nightmarish next-morning shower event worth of its own story).
Scots are some of the friendliest people on this planet and Scotland is easily the most beautiful land on that same planet, and as a key part of the Night, everyone wanted to treat me to a drink.
That where the problem started.
I got there on an empty stomach about 7PM, you see... and to make things worse, I don't really like Scotch, single malt or otherwise... I know, I know... heresy.
But as a good guest, I accepted the dozens of Scotches delivered to me by the region's nicest gentlemen, and of course, everyone had a toast, and so... ahhh, I drank a lot of Scotland's best-known product.
The only issue to my spectacular abilities to hold my booze was the fact that the haggis wasn't actually delivered until 11PM, and by then I was three sheets to the wind and as drunk as I have ever been but a hundred times worse!
I actually like haggis and whenever it is on the menu (here or there) I usually order it... most of you would gag if you knew what it is... cough, cough... so that's not the storyline here.
Anyway, around 11PM, I was tipped that the haggis was being delivered... the bagpipes began to cry that spectacular sound of the Celtic world, and the huge platter arrived.
I walked unsteadily towards it, grabbed the large, sharp knife, and as protocol calls for, began waving it around while I started, in my best Scottish accent, to pay homage to the haggis while at the same time trying not to slice off my ears.
The hall was silent, and a couple of hundred people followed my every word and movement of the knife, sculpting invisible shapes in the air.
And then, as called for, I stabbed the beast and cut it in two.
The hall exploded in applause and I walked back to my table... so far so good... other than the unexplained laughter.
Mr. Stewart, who was sitting next to me, was standing and clapping furiously, as was everyone else. This by itself, my addled brain registered, was curious, as Scots are great people, but rather reserved. To my slight alarm, I also noted that he was laughing really, really, really hard.
So hard, in fact, that tears were running down his face.
Oh, oh....
He slapped my back as he hugged me and continued to laugh, and placed yet another single malt on my hand.
"That was great!" (sounds like "gret" in Scottish) he shouted above the din, as tears ran down his handsome face, "We've never heard 'Address to a Haggis' recited in a Japanese accent before!"
"What a gret ideee!"
Put yourself in my place for a moment here... there are a couple of hundred Scots thinking that I just pulled a comedy routine on their sacred ode, and they're laughing their ass off, so it must have worked... right???
"I practiced like crazy," I said, suddenly quite sober.
And that's the story of how this guy delivered on a Burns' Night in Brechin, Scotland, got drunk on his ass, made a lot of really good, decent Scottish men laugh, and had a most memorable night.
The story of how I got home, as I clearly couldn't and didn't drive, is a story for another day... suffice it to say that thistles usually grow on the side of most Scottish back roads and that if you brush against them, you are really fucked for a while.
Scotch and thistles don't mix well on a really dark night in the Scottish country side.
Campello gets reviewed
Not me, but my youngest daughter Elise Torralbo (nee Campello):
Also:
The cast all put in solid performances without a single weak link, but special mention goes out to Elise Torralbo. Playing Olive Ostrovsky. Torralbo is no stranger to TMP, as she was seen in last year’s production of “Shout! The Mod Musical” and takes center stage here with a heartfelt rendition of “The I Love You Song,” and some surprising rope climbing antics that steal the show in “Life is Pandemonium.” Though Torralbo gets the spotlight, everyone in the cast puts in a strong performance...Read the review by Derek Shuck in the Tacoma Weekly here.
Also:
Elise Torralbo plays Olive Ostrovsky (except for the shows of January 23 to 25, when Rachel Roewer takes on the role). Olive’s mother is on retreat in India, learning to be enlightened while her father is once again late to one of her events due to work. Torralbo wrings sympathy from the audience as the poor little ignored child who turns her desire for parental affection to her only friend, the dictionary.Read the review by Lynn Geyer at the Suburban Times here.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Deadline is tomorrow!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)