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I saw Philip Glass last night!

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Oct. 19th, 2001 | 11:32 am

I'll never wash these eyes again!

They're having this five-day series through PICA (that's the Portland Institute for Creative Arts, not the malady suffered during pregnancy in which the pregnant woman craves clay, ash, lime or other weird indigestible things) called "Philip on Film" during which La Philip and his Fanjoobulous Band provide live accompaniment to some of the films he's scored. I took a pass on Poyasquattsi, Koyannisquatsi and Dracula (The soundtrack for Dracula didn't turn my crank and I've seen Koyannisquatsi about eighteen quadzillion times) but there was one that I just couldn't miss--Jean Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast."

Yow! What a superb film! What sublime music! What utterly crappy seating! (hard steel & vinyl chairs, the kind you find in a Holiday Inn Banquet room)

I got all dressed up in a short black wool skirt, a purple silk noil shirt, and to set off my embroidered raw silk clutch purse, my NEW black velvet coat! (it came the other day, it's so lovely.) I wore Todd Oldham* perfume, my favorite.

*Note to Karl Mamer ... sorry, it was the only brand name I could drop! I buy everything else wholesale! Horrors! ;-)

Oh, how sophisticated I felt walking through the Portland Art Museum's sculpture gallery, with all the trees lit up with little white christmas lights. How chic I felt mingling with all the very intellectual-looking Philip Glass fans, with their tortoise-shell rimmed glasses and their very black clothing and their vaguely New Yorkish air of boredom and disdain! How sore my butt felt after two hours of sitting in those crappy chairs!

After the performance, Philip signed CDs. Luckily, I'd had the forethought to tuck a couple of CDs into my pretty little purse against such an eventuality. I was second in line and he signed my copy of his exquisite Symphony Number Five. Then he passed it to Michael Reissman, the conductor of that night's performance, and Monsieur Reissman signed it also. Which is kinda lame, given that Monsieur Reismann had nothing to do with Symphony Number Five, that I can tell. So what, you just sign something that you didn't have anything to do with? That seems a bit cheesy in my book. I mean, if I'm ever a famous author at a swank booksigning, and someone hands me a Terry Pratchett book, I'm sure as hell not going to ink my name on the inside cover, you can take that to the bank!

Anyhow, the signing was all very anticlimactic. Of course, I wanted to say something very clever and memorable to him, like "Your work means so very much to me, genius God man!!!!!!!!!" (with all those exclamation points indicated by little spasmodic up & down bounces) but when the man signs autographs, he does so like a machine; head down, completely focussed on his work. Pass the CD, sign. Pass the CD, sign. Pass the CD, sign. Can't talk. Signing.

Oh well. What do I care if Philip Glass knows I like his music? More importantly, what the hell does Philip Glass care if I like his music?

It was a fun evening all around. And when I got home, I found that my husband and daughter had baked me a huge chocolate chip cookie, rather burnt.

Of course, I ate it.

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Comments {5}

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from: ladyrisa7
date: Oct. 19th, 2001 12:35 pm (UTC)

You are simply TOO COOL for words!! :D

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M.K. Hobson

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from: mkhobson
date: Oct. 19th, 2001 02:31 pm (UTC)

This is me sending you a smile, baby!!


Hope you're feeling better.


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one must suffer for art

from: cthulhia
date: Oct. 19th, 2001 12:44 pm (UTC)

Yow! What a superb film! What sublime music! What utterly crappy seating!

The Best Shows have the Worst Seating.
The quality and freshness of the art is inversely proportional. You'd think that they could have a smaller crowd and just bring in couches and futons and pillows and stuff.

I may have to contact Mobius and the Revolving Museum and ask if they would be interested in a Comfortable Seating concert series. (I missed their Philip Glass shows.) or maybe contact a futon store. hmmm... that could be funky.

it's almost as if I can tell just how avante garde a place is on whether or not I'm sitting precariously on a semi-collapsed chair, covering over a dangerous hole in the floor, in a venue that wouldn't pass a fire inspection.

Sometimes it's fun. The revolving museum often does screenings in the Jeff Smith Studio. He builds little cars, which you can sit on in lieu of standard chairs.

But at stiff places like the MFA and Decordova, you're stuck on the perfectly aligned and perfectly dispicable metal folding chairs.

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M.K. Hobson

Re: one must suffer for art

from: mkhobson
date: Oct. 19th, 2001 02:36 pm (UTC)

The little cars sound very cool.

I guess you're supposed to be so into the art and all that you don't notice how much your ass hurts until after the show, so you go out with friends and drink lots of wine to alleviate your woe.

Hey, I can't believe I'm just figuring all this out now!


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My Canada includes smoked meat!

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from: mindme
date: Oct. 19th, 2001 01:22 pm (UTC)

Gah! You're married with children ... you're a Darwinian success... you don't have to lay out all these trappings.

Re Mr Glass... You should have gotten him to sign that Danse Macabre CD that violinist turned her nose up at!

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