MOVIE MONDAY - CATCH-22

“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.” - Albert Einstein

September 21st is the Autumnal Equinox in the Northern Hemisphere and the Vernal Equinox for us in the Southern Hemisphere. It heralds the official arrival of Autumn and Spring respectively. Equinox implies equal periods of light and darkness on this day, with (at the appropriate latitude, 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night from sunrise to sunset).

Each year the International Day of Peace is observed around the world also on 21st September. The United Nations General Assembly has declared this as a day devoted to strengthening the ideals of peace, both within and among all nations and peoples. The theme of this year’s commemoration is “Partnerships for Peace – Dignity for All” which aims to highlight the importance of all segments of society to work together to strive for peace.

The International Day of Peace was established in 1981 by resolution 36/67PDF document of the United Nations General Assembly to coincide with its opening session, which was held annually on the third Tuesday of September. The first Peace Day was observed in September 1982.

As it is Movie Monday today, I’d like to review a classic film that has its theme war, and delivers a strong anti-war, pro-peace message. It is Mike Nichols’ 1970 film “Catch-22” starring Alan Arkin, Martin Balsam, Richard Benjamin, Art Garfunkel, Jon Voigt, Orson Welles, and Bob Newhart. Everyone conversant with English knows and probably often uses the phrase “catch-22” to describe a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions. Many people who use this phrase may not know its origin. It is the title of a brilliant satirical novel, “Catch-22” by Joseph Heller that mocks war, the military, and politics. The movie is based on this novel and it is an excellent book-to-film adaptation.

The plot concerns Yossarian (Alan Arkin), a bombardier who realises the impossibility of ever completing the required number of bombing missions to be rotated out of harm’s way. This is because his commanding officers (Balsam and Henry) are constantly upping the number of missions required once anyone gets close to that number. Yossarian decides his best bet is to try for a medical disqualification for flight under the grounds that it’s insane to fly these missions, and since he’s flying them, he must be insane. But the flight surgeon (Jack Gilford) declares anyone who realises the insanity of the situation must, by definition, be sane, and therefore must continue to fly – Catch-22!

I read the novel in the second form of High School and then watched the movie a couple of years after it was made. I enjoyed both immensely then, and since then have re-read the novel and watched the film recently, as an adult. The enjoyment has increased, as (obviously) has my understanding of both.

The movie shines in terms of film-making: The wonderful cinematography (shot in widescreen aspect ratio of 2.35:1), the sharp editing, the crisp sound, the great pacing, the excellent casting, the flawless acting, the incredibly complex staging of many scenes: all done to perfection. Mike Nichols has directed relatively few movies, but his list of titles is impressive: “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”, “The Graduate”, “Carnal Knowledge”, “The Day of the Dolphin”, “Biloxi Blues”, etc.

"Catch-22" is very funny and tragic at the same time. The script and dialogue are witty and intelligent, and the theme is clear without needing to be shoved into the viewers’ face. Comparing this anti-war film with some recent similar films can only make one wax even more lyrical about “Catch-22”. Anyone who has had anything to do with the military, I think, can appreciate the insanity depicted and the futility and terrible waste that war is. You must watch this film and read the book if you have not done so!

ART SUNDAY - NATIONAL GALLERY OF AUSTRALIA

“If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.” - John F. Kennedy

We are visiting Canberra for the weekend to see “Floriade”, the great Spring exhibition of flowers. We also took the opportunity to visit some favourite old haunts, including the National Gallery of Australia, the Canberra Museum and Gallery and the foreshore of Lake Burley Griffin.

The National Gallery of Australia (NGA; originally the Australian National Gallery) is the national art museum of Australia as well as the largest art museum in the country, holding more than 166,000 works of art. It was established in 1967 by the Australian government as a national public art museum.

Tom Roberts, a famous Australian artist, had lobbied various Australian prime ministers, starting with the first, Edmund Barton, to create a National Gallery. Prime Minister Andrew Fisher accepted the idea in 1910, and the following year Parliament established a bipartisan committee of six political leaders—the Historic Memorials Committee. The Committee decided that the government should collect portraits of Australian governors-general, parliamentary leaders and the principal “fathers” of federation to be painted by Australian artists. This led to the establishment of what became known as the Commonwealth Art Advisory Board (CAAB), which was responsible for art acquisitions until 1973.

From 1912, the building of a permanent building to house the collection in Canberra was the major priority of the CAAB. However, this period included two World Wars and a Depression and governments always considered they had more pressing priorities, including building the initial infrastructure of Canberra and Old Parliament House in the 1920s and the rapid expansion of Canberra and the building of government offices, Lake Burley Griffin and the National Library of Australia in the 1950s and early 1960s. Finally in 1965 the CAAB was able to persuade Prime Minister Robert Menzies to take the steps necessary to establish the gallery. On 1 November 1967, Prime Minister Harold Holt formally announced that the Government would construct the building.

In 1968, Colin Madigan of Edwards Madigan Torzillo and Partners won the competition for the design, even though no design could be finalised, as the final site was now in doubt. In 1971, the Government selected a 17 hectare site on the eastern side of the proposed National Place, between King Edward Terrace and for the Gallery. Even though it was now unlikely that the lakeside Parliament House would proceed, a raised National Place (to hide parking stations) surrounded by national institutions and government offices was still planned. Madigan's brief included the Gallery, a building for the High Court of Australia and the precinct around them, linking to the raised National Place at the centre of the Land Axis of the Parliamentary Triangle, which then led to the National Library on the western side.

The construction of the building commenced in 1973, with the unveiling of a plaque by Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, and it was officially opened by Queen Elizabeth II in 1982, during the premiership of Whitlam’s successor, Malcolm Fraser. The building cost $82 million. The National Gallery building is in the late 20th-century Brutalist style. It is characterised by angular masses and raw concrete surfaces and is surrounded by a series of sculpture gardens planted with Australian native plants and trees. The geometry of the building is based on a triangle, most obviously manifested for visitors in the coffered ceiling grids and tiles of the principal floor. This geometry flows throughout the building, and is reflected in the triangular stair towers, columns and building elements.

The building is principally constructed of reinforced bush hammered concrete, which was also originally the interior wall surface. More recently, the interior walls have been covered with painted wood, to allow for increased flexibility in the display of artworks. The building has 23,000 m2 of floor space. The Gallery has been extended twice, the first of which was the building of new temporary exhibition galleries on the eastern side of the building in 1997, to house large-scale temporary exhibitions, which was designed by Andrew Andersons of PTW Architects. This extension includes a sculptural garden, designed by Fiona Hall. The 2006 enhancement project and new entrance was complemented by a large Australian Garden designed by Adrian McGregor of McGregor Coxall Landscape Architecture and Urban Design.

Just like the city it is found in, the Gallery is not an inviting place. Canberra is an artificial city and it is not built on the human scale. It is designed to be monumental, but it is a monument without memories, a rather cold and sterile place, a city that still struggles to find an identity. To be a pedestrian in Canberra is to be damned - this City was not designed for pedestrians. To get from place to place of interest one needs to drive (through empty space for a lot of the time) and negotiate roundabouts of gigantic proportions.

There are some significant art works in the Gallery, but there is also a lot of dross masquerading as modern art. There is a marked lack of European art prior to the 19th century so if one were to rely solely on this Gallery’s exhibits for one’s art education, it would be a very shallow education indeed. The National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne is an infinitely richer gallery and one that has a collection that is better balanced (even though it may have less works in total than the NGA). Despite its shortcomings, a visit to Canberra would be inadequate without a visit to NGA…

MUSIC SATURDAY - WILLEM DE FESCH

“Life, wrote a friend of mine, is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.” ― E.M. Forster

Willem de Fesch (1687, Alkmaar – 3 January 1761) was a virtuoso Dutch violone player and composer. The pupil of Karel Rosier, who was a Vice-Kapellmeister at Bonn, de Fesch later married his daughter, Maria Anna Rosier. De Fesch was active in Amsterdam between 1710 and 1725.

From 1725 to 1731 he served as Kapellmeister at Antwerp Cathedral. Thereafter he moved to London where he gave concerts and played the violone in Handel’s orchestra in 1746. In 1748 and 1749 he conducted at Marylebone Gardens. He apparently made no public appearances after 1750.

His works included the oratorios “Judith” (1732) and “Joseph” (1746), as well as chamber duets, solo and trio sonatas, concertos and part songs. Both oratorios were thought lost until 1980 when a copy of a manuscript of “Joseph” was found in London’s Royal Academy of Music. De Fesch's music was influenced by the Italians, particularly Vivaldi, as well as Handel.

Here is a selection of his Concerti Grossi and Violin Concerti. 

FOOD FRIDAY - ORANGE CAKE

“I like to peel it and share it with friends. You can spread the love with an orange.” - GinaRodriguez

We made some delicious orange cake a couple of days ago and there’s not a crumb of it left! This is a fairly easy recipe from Greece, which makes a rich, moist, flavoursome cake.

Orange Cake
Ingredients

1 large, unwaxed, thin-skinned, seedless orange
350 g sugar
500 g self-raising flour
2 and 1/2 tsp baking powder
5 eggs
140 g butter
Vanilla essence
Orange marmalade (optional)

Method
Wash the orange well, remove the top part with the stem scar and the bottom, navel part and zest it. Halve and remove the central white core. Cut into segments and then blend (zested peel and all) into a smooth pulp. Reserve.
Beat the sugar and butter until light and fluffy, with the sugar all dissolved.
Meanwhile, sift the flour and baking powder.
Add the eggs, beaten, one by one until well incorporated into the mixture.
Slowly add the orange pulp, stirring all the while.
Add the flour little by little and finally the vanilla essence.
Pour mixture into a greased and floured 30 cm rectangular cake tin and bake in an oven preheated to 170˚C for 50 minutes, with a skewer inserted into  the cake centre coming out clean.
While hot, spread top of cake with marmalade if desired.

Share your favourite recipes below, using the Linky tool:

OYSTERS vs SALSIFY

“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.” - Jonathan Swift

Looking at the quote above, I must agree as raw oysters are not my cup of tea. When I was younger I refused to eat them and other shellfish outright, but now that I have developed a more inclusive diet and a more tolerant palate, I like oysters Kilpatrick, as long as they well cooked. Alternatively, I also enjoy them fried in seasoned flour or smoked (some excellent smoked oysters are available canned and here is my recipe using these). I also devised another recipe of my own that cooks the oysters well, while seasoning them and coating them in delicious baked mayonnaise.

Watching people eating raw oysters I am puzzled as they do not seem to savour or chew them, but rather swallow them whole forthwith to get the thing over and done with ASAP. I suppose that is one way of avoiding the issue of actually chewing and tasting them. One closes one’s eyes, thinks of England and swallows…

The oyster is any member of the families Ostreidae (true oysters) or Aviculidae (pearl oysters), and is a bivalve mollusk found in temperate and warm coastal waters of all oceans. Oysters are eaten by birds, starfishes, and snails, as well as by fishes, including skates. The oyster drill (Urosalpinx cinenea), a widely occurring snail, drills a tiny hole through the oyster shell with its tongue, then sucks out the living tissue. True oysters have been cultivated as food since pre-Christian times.

Pearl oysters also have long been valued for the precious pearls that develop in them. Pearls are formed in oysters by the accumulation of nacre, the material lining the oyster shell, around a solid piece of foreign matter that has become lodged inside the shell. Pearls formed in edible oysters are lustreless and of no value. The best natural pearls occur in a few Oriental species, particularly Meleagrina vulgaris, native to the Persian Gulf. This species is found mainly at depths of 14 to 36 metres. Pearls are taken mostly from oysters more than five years old.  Cultured pearls are grown around bits of mother-of-pearl inserted manually into the oyster. Most cultured pearls are grown in Japanese or Australian coastal waters.

In case you are a vegetarian, and oysters are quite out of the question, you can still enjoy salsify, also called Oyster Plant, or Vegetable Oyster (Tragopogon porrifolius), a biennial herb of the family Asteraceae, native to the Mediterranean region. The thick white taproot is cooked as a vegetable and has a flavour similar to that of oysters. Bon appetit!

POETS UNITED - A SONG DELICATE

“Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.” - Noam Chomsky

Poets United this week has as its theme, “Let your song be delicate”. Here is my offering:

At Night

Night fell softly, covering all
As if in flakes of blue-black snow;
Silence reigns, sky revolves.

I fought with sleeplessness
And won – as for my prize:
Your remembrance in a dream.

And it was as though I had drunk
A deep draught of sweet red wine,
Mixed with oleander poison, green.

Stars sparkle like tears falling,
The moon absent, perhaps it has set,
And an owl hoots.

I stir and turn, wakeful once again,
The room cold, dark, quiet,
And by my side, an empty space…

TULIPOMANIA

“But the eyes are blind: One must look with the heart…” The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

In the language of flowers, a red tulip, Tulipa gesneriana, symbolises ardent love.  The tulip is an importation into the West from Turkey and Persia, the word tulip being derived from the Turkish word tulband, meaning “turban”.  Young men in Persia would present their love with red tulips, this signifying their heated countenance (red petals) and their heart burnt to a coal (the black base of the petals).  The tulip also stands for eloquence, oratory and fame.

Tulipomania also called Tulip Craze, (Dutch: Tulpenwoede), was a speculative frenzy in 17th-century Holland over the sale of tulip bulbs. The tulip was first introduced into Europe from Turkey shortly after 1550. The delicate, vividly-coloured flowers became a popular but very costly item. The demand for differently coloured varieties of tulips soon exceeded the supply, and prices for individual bulbs of rare types began to rise to unwarranted heights in northern Europe. By about 1610 a single bulb of a new variety was acceptable as dowry for a bride, and a flourishing brewery in France was exchanged for one bulb of the variety “Tulipe Brasserie”.

The craze reached its height in Holland during 1633–37. Before 1633 Holland’s tulip trade had been restricted to professional growers and experts, but the steadily rising prices tempted many ordinary middle-class and poor families to speculate in the tulip market. Homes, estates, and industries were mortgaged so that bulbs could be bought for resale at higher prices. Sales and resales were made many times over without the bulbs ever leaving the ground, and rare varieties of bulbs sold for the equivalent of hundreds of dollars each. The crash came early in 1637, when doubts arose as to whether prices would continue to increase. Almost overnight the price structure for tulips collapsed, sweeping away fortunes and leaving behind financial ruin for many ordinary Dutch families.

Does this sound familiar? Do you invest in stocks and shares? Does it remind you of what happened when the stock market crashed in 1929? The Great Depression? The market collapse of the late 1980s? How frail we humans are. Ready to succumb to our basest desires. Avarice and laziness are ever present in our psyche. We want something for nothing. Easy life and riches obtained without hard work. Why work hard when you can invest your capital (even better if you can borrow it!) so that it magically multiplies. Be it tulips of shares, who cares? As long as we can make a fortune. The billions of dollars spent on lottery tickets is another instance of this attitude…

This attitude of getting “something for nothing” is unfortunately becoming increasingly more common around the world. It is not a feature of Western nations only (the “cargo cult” of New Guinea springs to mind) but it is certainly widespread in countries like ours. The consumer society that we live in contributes to it to a certain extent and the advertising messages that we are inundated with are difficult to resist. Increasing desires for consumer goods and aspirations to a lifestyle suited to the “rich and famous” bring with them desire for ready cash. We have gone beyond what we need to have a “comfortable” life and now desire and greedily want a “luxurious” one.

I grow tulips in our garden and the only profit I get out of it is the beauty of the blooms, a more than ample reward of the hard work I invest in growing my plants. I am not a stock market investor, nor do I actively buy and sell shares. My salary was always earnt through my own labours – I need no parasitic riches. I have forgotten the last time I bought a lottery ticket (well, yes, I admit it I occasionally buy one, I am human too), but should I win, my family and friends would be the ones that would most profit, my winnings spread liberally to those around me.

MOVIE MONDAY - ON B MOIVES

“Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.” - Albert Schweitzer

We watched a movie at the weekend which brought to my mind the term “B Movie”. That’s an old-fashioned characterisation for a film and one which is not used much nowadays, however, the film did remind me of such old potboiler Hollywood movies, despite the stellar cast and the brou-ha-ha surrounding its release.

A B movie in Hollywood was a low-budget commercial motion picture that was not an arthouse film and was designed for mass consumption, generally pandering to the tastes of the lowest common denominator. A bread-and-butter film. In its original usage, during the Golden Age of Hollywood, the term more precisely identified a film intended for distribution as the less-publicised, bottom half of a double feature. Although the U.S. production of movies intended as second features largely ceased by the end of the 1950s, the term B movie continued to be used in the broader sense it maintains today. In its post–Golden Age usage, there is ambiguity on both sides of the definition: On the one hand, many B movies display a high degree of craft and aesthetic ingenuity; on the other, the primary interest of many inexpensive exploitation films is prurient.

Early B movies were often part of series in which the star repeatedly played the same character. Almost always shorter than the top-billed films they were paired with, many had running times of 70 minutes or less. B movies were generally understood to be inferior to the more handsomely budgeted headliners; individual B films were often ignored by critics. As the average running time of top-of-the-line films increased, so did that of B pictures.

In its current usage, the term has somewhat contradictory connotations: It may signal an opinion that a certain movie is (a) a genre film with minimal artistic ambitions or (b) a lively, energetic film uninhibited by the constraints imposed on more expensive projects and unburdened by the conventions of putatively “serious” independent film. The term is also now used loosely to refer to some higher-budgeted, mainstream films with exploitation-style content, usually in genres traditionally associated with the B movie.

So what was the film? The 2014 Rowan Joffe thriller “Before I go to Sleep” starring Nicole Kidman, Colin Firth and Mark Strong. The film was hardly original, as it builds on the foundations of the more arty thriller “Memento” (2000) or even the comedic “50 First Dates” (2004).

Without wanting to spoil the movie for you if you have not seen it, the plot outline runs thus: Christine Lucas (Kidman) wakes up each day with short term memory loss and no memory beyond her early twenties; soon she begins to realise that some dark secrets are being hidden from her. She has no idea if her friends really are friends or actually foes. She is puzzled by her role as a housewife in her suburban home and looks perplexed at her husband Ben (Colin Firth) in bed next to her.

Christine is being covertly helped on a pro-bono basis by the neuro-scientist Dr Nash (Mark Strong). Nash reveals that she ended up in this state after being severely beaten up and left for dead near a Heathrow hotel. He persuades her to maintain a video diary of the days' events and recollections, but he has to remind her where she’s hidden the camera via phone every morning. Christine slowly uncovers a traumatic past, remembered (and then immediately forgotten) in dreams, but which only very slowly start to piece together during the waking hours. Will Christine piece together the jigsaw?

The film was well made and the acting was good. One has to expect that nowadays if the film has any hope of recouping its production costs. Whether or not it will be a hit and wow the public is another matter. This film failed to be a box office success, grossing just under $3 million in the USA. Ultimately one has to look at what the film delivers, and in this case, while the plot is resolved and one sees the conclusion come home more or less satisfactorily, there is an element of: “Oh well, is that it?”…

A strange one, as we watched it with interest, it was quite entertaining, but somehow remained uninspiring and certainly not one that would remain etched in one’s memory: I.e. a B movie... Maybe it would become better if I saw it again tomorrow after I have forgotten about it overnight?

ART SUNDAY - ARNOLD BÖCKLIN

“Just as it is poetry’s task to express feelings, painting must provoke them too. A picture must give the spectator as much food for thought as a poem and must make the same kind of impression as a piece of music...” - Arnold Böcklin

Arnold Böcklin (16 October 1827 – 16 January 1901) was a Swiss symbolist painter. His art has little in common with Impressionism or the academic art of his time. Instead, his depictions of demigods in naturalistic settings interpret themes from classical mythology in an idiosyncratic, often sensual manner. . In addition to imaginative, bizarre interpretations of the classical world, Böcklin painted mysterious landscapes punctuated by an occasional lone figure. These haunting later works made him an important contributor to the international Symbolist movement. They also appealed to some Surrealist artists, particularly Giorgio di Chirico, who declared, “Each of [Böcklin’s] works is a shock.”

Arnold Böcklin was born in Basle, Switzerland on October 16th 1827. The son of a merchant, he overcame his father’s opposition to following an artistic career, thanks to the support of poet Wilhelm Wackernagel and was thus able to devote himself to art. In 1845 he attended the Düsseldorf Academy of Art, where his teacher was Johann Wilhelm Schirmer, known for his heroic-panoramic style of painting.

Between 1847 and 1848 Böcklin travelled to Brussels, Antwerp, Switzerland and Paris. From the autumn of 1848 he worked in Basle, moving to Rome in 1850. In Rome he studied the work of the ancients and found the inspiration for many important works. In 1853 he married Angela Pascucci, a young Italian girl from Rome. There followed a somewhat obscure period, ending when he was appointed to the post of Professor at the Academy of Weimar in 1860. Two years later he returned to Rome to visit Naples and Pompeii and the frescos he observed had a lasting influence on his technique and his future artistic production.

In autumn 1866 he started work on the fresco that was to decorate the main staircase of the Museum of Basle. The period that followed was particularly productive and his style improved enormously in terms of colour, form and inspiration. From 1874-84 he lived in Florence, surrounded by disciples. During this period he produced his most controversial works, such as “The Island of the Dead” and “The Holy Wood”.

In 1895 he moved to his villa at San Domenico, near Fiesole. It was here that he lived the last years of his life, continuing to paint until his death on January 16th 1901. Art historians have always found it difficult to classify this original, proud, somewhat eccentric painter who, like Da Vinci, experimented in his garden with human flight. He disliked giving titles to his pictures and declared that he painted in order to make people dream.

The “Isle of the Dead” (German: Die Toteninsel) is the best-known painting Böcklin. Prints of the work were very popular in central Europe in the early 20th century—Vladimir Nabokov observed in his novel “Despair” that they were to be “found in every Berlin home”. Böcklin produced several different versions of the mysterious painting between 1880 and 1886.

All versions of “Isle of the Dead” depict a desolate and rocky islet seen across an expanse of dark water. A small rowboat is just arriving at a water gate and seawall on shore. An oarsman maneuvers the boat from the stern. In the bow, facing the gate, is a standing figure clad entirely in white. Just behind the figure is a white, festooned object commonly interpreted as a coffin. The tiny islet is dominated by a dense grove of tall, dark cypress trees (associated by long-standing tradition with cemeteries and mourning), which is closely hemmed in by precipitous cliffs. Furthering the funerary theme are what appear to be sepulchral portals and windows penetrating the rock faces.

Böcklin himself provided no public explanation as to the meaning of the painting, though he did describe it as “a dream picture: It must produce such a stillness that one would be awed by a knock on the door.” The title, which was conferred upon it by the art dealer Fritz Gurlitt in 1883, was not specified by Böcklin, though it does derive from a phrase in an 1880 letter he sent to the painting’s original commissioner. Not knowing the history of the early versions of the painting, many observers have interpreted the oarsman as representing the boatman Charon who conducted souls to the underworld in Greek mythology. The water would then be either the River Styx or the River Acheron and his white-clad passenger a recently deceased soul transiting to the afterlife.

Above is the third version of 1883. “Isle of the Dead” evokes, in part, the English Cemetery in Florence, Italy, where the first three versions were painted. The cemetery was close to Böcklin’s studio and was also where his infant daughter Maria was buried. (In all, Böcklin lost 8 of his 14 children). The model for the rocky islet was probably Pontikonisi, a small island near Corfu which is adorned with a small chapel amid a cypress grove. (Another less likely candidate is the island of Ponza in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

The third version was painted in 1883 for Böcklin’s dealer Fritz Gurlitt. Beginning with this version, one of the burial chambers in the rocks on the right bears Böcklin’s own initials. In 1933, this version was put up for sale and a noted Böcklin admirer, Adolf Hitler, acquired it. He hung it first at the Berghof in Obersalzberg and, then after 1940, in the New Reich Chancellery in Berlin. It is now at the Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin.

MUSIC SATURDAY - 'DARDANUS' BY RAMEAU

“I’ve learned to respect the whimsical.” - Michael Leunig

Jean-Philippe Rameau (25 September 1683 – 12 September 1764) was one of the most important French composers and music theorists of the Baroque era. He replaced Jean-Baptiste Lully as the dominant composer of French opera and is also considered the leading French composer for the harpsichord of his time, alongside François Couperin.

Little is known about Rameau’s early years, and it was not until the 1720s that he won fame as a major theorist of music with his “Treatise on Harmony” (1722) and also in the following years as a composer of masterpieces for the harpsichord, which circulated throughout Europe. He was almost 50 before he embarked on the operatic career on which his reputation chiefly rests today. His debut, “Hippolyte et Aricie” (1733), caused a great stir and was fiercely attacked by the supporters of Lully’s style of music for its revolutionary use of harmony.

Nevertheless, Rameau's pre-eminence in the field of French opera was soon acknowledged, and he was later attacked as an “establishment” composer by those who favoured Italian opera during the controversy known as the ‘Querelle des Bouffons’ in the 1750s. Rameau’s music had gone out of fashion by the end of the 18th century, and it was not until the 20th that serious efforts were made to revive it. Today, he enjoys renewed appreciation with performances and recordings of his music ever more frequent.

Here is his complete opera “Dardanus”, which is characterised as a ‘tragédie lyrique’ in five acts by Jean-Philippe Rameau. The French libretto was by Charles-Antoine Leclerc de La Bruère. It is directed by Raphaël Pichon with the Bordeaux National Opera, in quite a sumptuous production.

The original story is loosely based on that of Dardanus of Greek mythology. However, in the opera, Dardanus is at war with King Teucer, who has promised to marry his daughter Iphise to King Anténor. Dardanus and Iphise meet, through the intervention of the magician Isménor, and fall in love. Dardanus attacks a monster ravaging Teucer’s kingdom, saving the life of Anténor who is attempting, unsuccessfully, to kill it. Teucer and Dardanus make peace, the latter marrying Iphise.

FOOD FRIDAY - UPSIDE DOWN APPLE CAKE

“And there never was an apple, in Adam's opinion, that wasn't worth the trouble you got into for eating it.” - Neil Gaiman

An old favourite that we have when people come around for afternoon tea. It rarely fails to please everyone. Golden delicious apples tend to bake better.

Upside Down Apple Cake
Ingredients
2 tbsp unsalted butter
4 golden delicious apples, peeled, cored and cut into wedges
3 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
275g plain flour
3 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
180ml milk
2 large eggs
130 g caster sugar
2 tsp vanilla essence
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
thick cream, to serve

Method
Preheat fan-forced oven to 160°C.
Melt butter in a frypan on medium heat. Cook apple for 10 minutes or until golden brown all over. Sprinkle with brown sugar, cinnamon and cloves.
Arrange apples radially in a buttered, 25 cm cake tin and set aside.
Sift flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Combine milk, eggs, caster sugar, vanilla and cardamom in another bowl; whisk until smooth. Fold into flour mixture until just combined.
Spoon mixture over apples in cake tin.
Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a skewer inserted into centre comes out clean. Turn out onto a flat plate and serve hot with cream.

Please add your favourite recipes below using the Linky tool:

IMMORTAL BACH

"Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence." -  Robert Fripp

If you read my blog, you already know that J.S. Bach is one of my favourite composers. There is always something new to discover in his music, even (or should I say, especially) in the pieces one has heard many times before. As well as the mathematical precision, the elegance of the logic behind each note that this master has written down and its immense musical significance in relation to the other notes around it, there is pure emotion and deep feeling that one cannot help but be involved in and moved by. The cantatas are a beautiful world to explore. Here is a famous tune from one of them.

Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme (BWV 645)
(Wake up, the voice is calling us)
Aarnoud de Groen plays the organ of the Bethlehemkerk, The Hague. Enjoy!

POETS UNITED - BOREDOM

“Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” - Henry Van Dyke

This week PoetsUnited is looking at “Boredom” for its midweek poetry motif. My grandfather used to say that “only boring people get bored”, and I could see his point, considering when and how he lived: Time was precious, work tasks never-ending and leisure a rare thing, with the time devoted to it short and sweet – how so to be bored? I must say that I too, have never felt bored in my life. My interests too many, my activities multitudinous and varied, my work relentless and my own leisure time carefully spent, savoured like the last single lemon candy one sucks slowly to make it last.

I read Bukowski’s poems on the Poets United site this week a couple of times. They annoyed me. He may be well regarded, he may be famous, called a master wordsmith, a brilliant writer, but his voice fails to speak to me. I read the introduction again and the theme this week seemed to hint more at writer’s block than boredom. “Boredom” as a theme flummoxed me…

I had to go back in time, think of the idle rich and come up with this, my contribution:

Ennui

Madame looks at the ormolu clock,

It ticks, it’s working, yet time seems to stand still…

She feels the texture of the Sèvres fine bone china

And sips the fine, hot, blond Oolong tea –

“Je m’ennuie tellement,

que je voudrais mourir maintenant…” She thinks

She feels the fine silk of Shanghai

As it caresses her softest skin,

She touches her carefully coiffed hair, all in order,

And her silver gilt mirror reflects her beautiful face –

“Je m’ennuie, ça me tue”, She says,

“Franchement, je ne sais plus quoi faire de ma vie!”

The diamonds of her necklace sparkle,

Madame’s hands are bejewelled too, rings, bracelets…

A golden platter full of friandises, petits fours, sugar almonds,

And the latest novels lying forlorn, discarded on the fauteuil –

“Je m’ennuie comme un rat mort,

l’ennui est tellement ennuyeux…” She concludes.

And later, when her lovely head is so easily sliced off,

By the sharp and heavy blade of the efficient guillotine,

One could quite truthfully say,

Madame had surely died of boredom…

THIS MORTAL COIL

“To sleep perchance to dream…” - William Shakespeare, “Hamlet”

“To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;”

'Mortal coil' is a poetic term that means the troubles of daily life and the strife and suffering of the world. It is used in the sense of a burden to be carried or abandoned, most famously in the phrase “shuffled off this mortal coil” from “Hamlet”. Apropos, I feature the eighties British pop group “This Mortal Coil”

The track “Song to the Siren”, originally written by Tim Buckley, is sung by Elizabeth Fraser of the Cocteau Twins; it was released as a single and brought the “It’ll End in Tears” (1984) album to prominence. The music is considered Goth, as the songs have been described as haunting and harrowing, yet ultimately uplifting or even timeless.

Song to the Siren

On the floating, shipless, oceans
I did all my best to smile
Till your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving into your eyes.
And you sang
"Sail to me, sail to me,
Let me enfold you.
"Here I am, here I am
waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?
Now my foolish boat is leaning,
Broken lovelorn on your rocks.
For you sang
"Touch me not, touch me not,
Come back tomorrow."
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
I'm as puzzled as a newborn child.
I'm as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing:
"Swim to me, swim to me,
Let me enfold you.
"Here I am, Here I am, waiting to hold you."

MOVIE MONDAY - ANGEL-A

“We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end.” - BenjaminDisraeli

We watched a quirky, fun film the other day, which we enjoyed quite a lot. It was Luc Besson’s 2005 comedy/fantasy “Angel-A” starring Rie Rasmussen, Jamel Debbouze and Gilbert Melki. Luc Besson also wrote the screenplay, and it seems to have been a labour of love. Although not entirely original, the plot works and hinges on redemption and personal growth of the protagonist to make it appealing for the viewer.

The plot has as follows: André (Jamel Debbouze) is a small-time ex-convict who seems to owe money to everyone in Paris, including a crime boss who threatens to kill him if he doesn’t repay him by midnight. After failing to find protection from the American embassy and the French police, a despairing André scrambles onto a bridge over the Seine, intending to leap to his death. He is surprised to see a tall, beautiful girl (Rie Rasmussen) clinging to a rail on the same bridge, apparently preparing to end her life as well. She jumps, and he jumps too, suddenly resolving to save her life. After scrambling ashore, she tells him her name is Angel-A. Together, they take a cruise on the Seine, repay André’s creditors, visit a Parisian nightspot, and more, as Angel-A helps André. He learns that for this purpose she has fallen out of the sky and into his life. André finds himself falling in love with this mysterious beauty…

We enjoyed in particular the atmospheric black and white-photography by cinematographer Thierry Arbogast, who also worked on Besson’s previous films. Autumnal Paris, is beautifully shot with external shots showing well-balanced lighting. Many famous Paris sights make an appearance and one can take it all in, enjoying the sights as well. The lead actors are perfectly cast for their roles and play with verve and gusto. There is a great deal of chemistry between the gangly Angel-A and the ratso André and one can tell that these actors had a great deal of fun while making the movie.

The plot device of angels coming to earth to help humans is not a new one. However, Angel-A is a strange angel, who appears to be quite earthy and not unwilling to gets her hands dirty in order to help her charge. The way that she makes money in order to get André debt-free is quite unangel-like to say the least. There is a lot of clever, funny repartee between André and Angel-A, and no car chases and explosions as one has seen in other Besson films.

The film can be seen as an instruction manual on cognitive therapy, which has a goal to transform distorted thinking. Angel-A is André’s therapist, giving him reasons to love himself, and teaching him techniques to change the way he thinks or speaks of himself. She teaches him to love himself and thus allowing himself to love others too.

ART SUNDAY - MURILLO & FATHER'S DAY

“I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection.” Sigmund Freud

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1618-1682) was the youngest of fourteen children of a Sevillian barber, Gaspar Esteban, and his wife Maria Peres. In 1627, his father died, a year later he lost his mother. Murillo’s elder sisters and brothers were already grown up and could take care of themselves, while the 10 year old Bartolomé was adopted into the family of his aunt, married to a wealthy Sevillian doctor. Murillo was apprenticed early to a painter Juan del Castillo (1584-1640).

When, in 1639, Castillo left Seville for Cadiz, Murillo did not enter any workshop of a known artist, as it was the traditional way of all the beginners, but preferred to stay independent. It is said that to gain a living Murillo started to make sargas - cheap paintings on rough canvas sold at country fairs, and shipped to America by traders. Obviously his paintings appealed to the taste of the public, besides they revealed a certain talent of the young man. That was why the Franciscan monastery in Seville commissioned this unknown artist with a cycle of 11 paintings with scenes from the lives of Franciscan saints, which, after their execution, brought Murillo fame.

The artist dated his works very seldom. The first dated canvas belongs to the cycle for the Franciscan Monastery: One of the paintings is dated 1646, thus the whole series is usually dated 1645-46. But some art historians consider that the work took a longer period, of approximately 1642-1646. The canvases of the cycle are executed in different styles; thus some art historians consider that Cuisine of Angels (Miracle of St. Diego de Alcada) was inspired by Rivera; Death of St. Clara was influenced by van Dyck; and Velazquez had an effect on St. Diego Giving Charity. Even if it is really so, no wonder, the young artist was studying, during this long work his own style of soft forms and warm colours was being formed.

At some point in his life, probably in the late 1640s, Murillo is believed to have visited Madrid. In any case, after 1650 his style changed, which might be the result of his meeting with Velazquez and studying of the works of Titian, Rubens, and Van Dyck in the royal collections in Madrid. On February 26, 1645 Murillo married Beatrice Sotomajor-i-Cabrera; soon their first daughter, named Maria, was born (died 1650).

In 1647-1654 the artist painted a lot of ‘Madonnas’, small in size, the canvases were aimed for home altars: Madonna of the Rosary, Madonna and Child. Already in his early religious paintings for the Franciscans Murillo widely used the genre scenes, which soon became a separate subject in his works: The Beggar Boy (1650), Grape and Melon Eaters. (c.1650), The Little Fruit Seller. (c.1670-1675) etc. Today considered somewhat sentimental, his genre scenes nevertheless represent a new way of perception. Murillo’s ‘children’, as well as his ‘Madonnas’, very soon became popular not only in Spain. Thanks to them he was the first Spanish painter to achieve widespread European fame. To the 1650s, also belong many of his portraits. Unfortunately, we do not know anything about the depicted people, even when they are identified, and we know their names.

With fame and multiple commissions the financial position of the artist became secured. It is known that in 1657 Murillo invested big money in a trade company in the New World, he bought slaves for his household. In 1662, he was admitted to several religious organizations of Seville. These organizations reminded in their structure and activities the later mason loges. Murillo also took an active part in the social life of his city. Thus he was one of the founders of the Academy of Fine Arts in Seville, which was opened in 1660, with Murillo as its first president.

In January 1664, Murillo buried his wife. Though 20 years of his life were still ahead, and during these 20 years he would painted 2/3 of all his known works, Murillo would never fully recover from this blow. During 1664, he could not work, at the end of the year he moved with all his surviving children (Jose Esteban, aged 14, Francisca Maria, aged 9, Gabriel, aged 8, Gaspar Esteban, aged 2, and infant Maria) into the Convent of Capuchins. From 1665 to 1682, he painted many of his major religious works, such as those for the Santa Maria la Blanca (1665), of the Caridad Hospital (1670-74), of the Capuchins (1676), of the Venerables Sacerdotes (1678), of the Augustinians (1680), and, lastly, of the Cadiz Capuchins, together with a large number of pictures made at different times for the Cathedral of Seville or other churches and many devotional works for private individuals.

It was said that the artist died in poverty. This is contradicted by the fact of the many commissions he had had; more close to the truth is the version that he gave away his money as charitable contributions to the religious organizations of which he was the member. The story about Murillo’s death sounds a little apocryphal: Murrilo had accepted a commission from the Capuchin church in Cadiz. For the first time in his life he went to decorate a church in another city. While working on the Marriage of St. Catherine (1682) Murillo fell from the scaffold, he was brought back to his native Seville in critical condition, where he soon died, on April 13, 1682. After his death he left very modest private property, but many pupils and innumerable followers. His works influenced later Spanish painting and anticipated 18th-century European Rococo painting.

Above is his painting “Return of the Prodigal Son” 1667-70 (Oil on canvas, 236 x 262 cm National Gallery of Art, Washington). The Prodigal Son, also known as the Lost Son, is one of the best-known parables of Jesus. It appears only in the Gospel of Luke in the New Testament of the Bible. By tradition, it is usually read on the third Sunday of Lent.

The parable relates the story of a father who has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance before the father dies, and the father agrees. The younger son, after wasting his fortune (the word ‘prodigal’ means ‘wastefully extravagant’), goes hungry during a famine, and becomes so destitute he longs to eat the same food given to hogs, unclean animals in Jewish culture. He then returns home with the intention of repenting and begging his father to be one of his hired servants, expecting his relationship with his father is likely severed. Regardless, the father finds him on the road and immediately welcomes him back as his son and holds a feast to celebrate his return, which includes killing a fattened calf usually reserved for special occasions. The older son refuses to participate, stating that in all the time he has worked for the father, he never disobeyed him; yet, he did not even receive a goat to celebrate with his friends. The father reminds the older son that the son has always been with him and everything the father has is the older son’s (his inheritance). But, they should still celebrate the return of the younger son because he was lost and is now found.

The father of the parable is an illustration of the Heavenly Father. God waits patiently, with loving compassion to restore us when we return to him with humble hearts. He offers us everything in his kingdom, restoring full relationship with joyful celebration. He doesn’t dwell on our past waywardness, provided our repentance is genuine.

Happy Father’s Day!

MUSIC SATURDAY - ZDENEK FIBICH

“Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.” - Napoleon Bonaparte

Zdenek Fibich (1850-1950) is the third of the so-called “Big Three” of 19th century Czech composers (the other two being Smetana and Dvorak). That Fibich is not as well known as the other two is not because his music was in any way inferior, but simply because he lived during a time of extreme national consciousness and unlike Dvorak and Smetana, he did not choose only to write in a purely Czech idiom. Although his music exhibits Slavic elements, it is rather more typically Central European in sound. This reflects his background. One of his parents was Czech, the other an Austrian German. His education was at both Czech and German schools. 

He studied at the famous Leipzig Conservatory then spent a year in Paris. Hence Fibich, in contrast to either Dvorak or Smetana, was the product of two cultures, German and Czech. His instrumental works are generally in the vein of the German romantics such as Mendelssohn, Schumann and Wagner.

Here is a Quintet, which dates from 1893, performed by the Ensemble Villa Musica. This is one of the most original sounding chamber music works because of the unusual tone colour effects that Fibich creates. Clearly, in its original version for piano, winds and strings, the nature of the instruments, by themselves alone, creates the stunning and rich effects. Because of the unusual combination of instruments Fibich selected for the original version, his publisher, knowing not many copies would be sold, asked for a version for standard piano quintet. This he produced and yet, such was Fibich’s genius, that it in no way sounds like an arrangement and often even gives the feeling of being an altogether separate composition. The version for standard piano quintet benefited immeasurably because Fibich strove hard to maintain the wonderful tone colour of the original.

The main theme to first movement, Allegro non tanto, is warm-hearted and presents a colourful reflection on the peacefulness of nature with a somewhat rustling quality in the background. There is a brief orchestral call to attention before the music seamlessly drifts away. The second movement, Largo, has for its main subject a melody which is serene and dignified but also capable of tremendous passion. A Schubertian Scherzo, with two trios comes next. Fibich gives the instruction “to be played with wild humour”. The finale, Allegro con spirito, is bright, joyous and festive.

I. Allegro Non Tanto - 00:00

II. Largo - 10:10

III. Scherzo - 20:15

IV. Finale - Allegro Con Spirito - 27:16

FOOD FRIDAY - BEAN SOUP

“Beans are such a nice, neutral canvas, you can make a big, basic pot of them and then play around with them differently every day.” - Crescent Dragonwagon

Here is a hearty bean soup from Greece, perfect for Spring or Autumn (depending on which Hemisphere you live in!).

Bean Soup
Ingredients

2 cups butter beans
1 potato
1 large onion
3 sticks of tender celery with its leaves
2 carrots
2 ripe tomatoes, peeled and grated
2 tablespoons fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon thyme
1/2  teaspoon marjoram
1 bay leaf
4 cups stock
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt, pepper

Method
Soak butter beans overnight, drain and cook in fresh water until soft. Drain and reserve the beans.
Chop the carrots, celery, onion and potato. Sauté the onion in the oil then add the vegetables and tomatoes. Cook until the celery has wilted.
Add the beans and herbs, and the stock and bring to the boil.
Cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes. Serve hot with crusty bread.

Add your favourite recipes below using the linky tool: