...is what I have just returned from, with the lovely Ms. Emily Cowles. In the course of the evening it became clear that Othello is considered Verdi's master work for a very good reason and that much of what is good and beautiful in this world is summed up by the "steam punk" genre. Who knew?
Also, raspberries are a wonderful impulse-food purchase.
It was my third time at the Lincoln center. Sitting in a top box gave me a very different perspective on the place. Something about being at the top like that heightened my awareness of the... well, magic there. There is something rich and satisfying in the curve and color of things, and my attention was drawn to the way light sits in the building. As the compelling orchaestral music rose over and through me, I noted the plays of light and shadow around the theater, and was struck with a funny little though.
"Emily?" I whispered, leaning forward, "do you think music affects the way light moves?"
She didn't answer me right away, so I felt that I had stumbled upon something worth thinking about.
I don't know. Something about the Met was especially beautiful tonight. The rising chandelier...
Well, now it is the morning after, and my computer have very little battery. I still have the image in my head of the maestro's hand silhouetted by the light of his podium.
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