Tilting at Windmills: Amsterdam, Part 3

Timing is everything.  And our timing with respect to Amsterdam's famous tulip season was just a bit off.  I had been looking forward to seeing the flowers in bloom at the Keukenof Gardens outside of the city, but when we learned that we were a couple of weeks out from tulip season, we decided to go with Plan B.  Of course, we first had to figure out what Plan B was!  After scouring our guide books, we decided that a visit to the village of Zaanse Schans with its working windmills and clog workshop sounded like fun.   

I was a bit concerned that we had fallen into a tourist trap when we arrived and saw tour buses in the Zaanse Schans parking lot.   The second I saw the windmills, though, I realized that we had made a good choice.   The village has eight windmills in total, and three of them were open for viewing that day.  Our first stop was the windmill pictured here, De Kat (the Cat--difficult translations such as this one convinced Andrea that she could read Dutch!), which is thought to be the last wind-powered dye mill in the world.  The mill was really cool, and there was a couple selling hollowed out eggs that had been colored with dyes produced at the mill.  (Suffice it to say that I have a new Christmas tree ornament.)    

We wandered around the village for a while, stopping in at the other mills and shops and enjoying the beautiful afternoon.  One mill produced spices and a variety of tasty mustards.  Unfortunately, those pesky restrictions on the size of bottles containing liquids and gels that you can bring on an aircraft prevented us from bringing any mustard home.  Then it was time for our visit to the clog workshop!    

One thing that I can say about the Dutch is that they take their history seriously.   When you enter the workshop, you pass a great collection of clogs with information about their history.   There were hand painted clogs and clogs made for ice skating and clogs that had been converted into violins.   There were wedding clogs and patent leather clogs and clogs that Lady Gaga would be proud to wear.  And of course there were shopping opportunities.  Andrea was tempted to buy a pair to bring home, but she ultimately decided that it wouldn't be the most practical purchase.  

Our last stop at the village was Catharina Hoeve, a cheese place.  There were lots of great cheeses to taste, and I brought home three different types--a two year aged Gouda and two types of hard goat cheese.  Yummy!

Our outing to Zaanse Schanse turned out to be quite an excellent Plan B, perhaps all the more enjoyable because it was a late addition to our itinerary.  

From Starry Night to The Night Watch: Amsterdam, Part 2

Andrea and I have traveled together a lot over the years and we used to pride ourselves on being able to tour any reasonably sized city in one day.   So having three full days to explore Amsterdam actually created a bit of a dilemma--what would we do to fill all that time????  Luckily, there was plenty to see, and we decided to start with the Van Gogh Museum.  First off, a word about how to pronounce Vincent's name.  Americans say "van go" while Brits say "van goff."   Both pronunciations are incorrect as it is a much more guttural sounding "goch"--sort of like you are clearing your throat.  This was just one of the many confusing things about the Dutch language that we encountered on our trip, but I digress from the point of this post--our visit to some of Amsterdam's museums.

Most people are familiar with bits and pieces of Van Gogh's life and his paintings, especially his Sunflowers (which we saw) and Starry Night (which lives at the Museum of Modern Art in New York).   Did you know, though, that he was an artist for only ten years of his short 37-year life, creating over 2100 works in that period?   Vincent was deeply religious in his younger years, and turned to art to leave "a certain souvenir to mankind in the form of paintings [that were] not made to comply with this or that school but to express genuine human feeling."  His early work was surprisingly dark, and reflected the influences of Millet, Daubigny, and Rousseau.  Over time, though, with the influx of Japanese woodcuts to Europe (which Vincent liked for their "decorativeness, bright colors and daring compositions") and his association with artists like Toulouse-Lautrec and Gaugin, Vincent developed his distinctive use of color and space.  Van Gogh's dream was to create an artists' colony, and Gauguin was one of his few contemporaries who signed on to this vision.  Their alliance was short-lived, though, and the infamous incident in which Van Gogh cut off his ear occurred after his falling out with Gaugin.  (The picture is from a trip Andrea and I took to Arles--where Van Gogh was institutionalized--many years ago.  I'm sure that you'll agree that my re-enactment is quite tasteful.) 

We also saw a special exhibit of works from the Van Gogh Museum's collection entitled "Beauty in Abundance" that celebrates the development of graphic arts and posters during the period from 1890-1905.  I enjoyed this exhibit tremendously, perhaps even more than Van Gogh's own works!   During that period, artists throughout Europe were experimenting with color lithography, etchings and woodcuts, and the result was fun and visually exciting.  The exhibit featured some wonderful works by artists such as Toulouse-Lautrec (including some posters and programs that he created for the theater and cafe concerts) and Henry Gabriel Ibels, whom I hadn't heard of before (including the poster pictured here.)

No trip to Amsterdam would be complete without a visit to the Rijksmuseum, the home of the Masterpieces of the Golden Age.   The Museum is being renovated, so we were not able to view the entire collection.  I have to admit that, while I understand that Rembrandt was a key figure in the evolution of art, his work isn't really my cup of tea, so I wasn't too disappointed that we only got the highlights.   Rembrandt's Night Watch was displayed in all its glory in the newly furnished Phillips Wing that uses LED light to illuminate the work.  We also saw Rembrandt's Syndics of the Amsterdam Drapers Guild aka The Sampling Officials (a detail of which is pictured to the left).  This painting shows a group of men performing the task of checking the quality of a certain type of cloth.  I'll admit that Rembrandt's use of light was striking and that the study of his paintings yields interesting historical tidbits (like the fact that the guy standing in the background must have been a servant because he isn't wearing a hat), but I was still happy to make my escape after an hour in the Rijksmuseum's galleries.

The final of the big three museums in Amsterdam is, of course, the Anne Frank House.  Seeing the place where Anne wrote her famous diary (which has been translated into over 70 languages) was an incredibly moving experience.  I was particularly struck by the humanity in the rooms where the Frank family, the van Pels family and Fritz Pfeffer lived.  There were hash marks on one wall where Otto and Edith Frank measured their daughters' growth during the two year period they were in hidiing.  Pictures of movies stars and postcards were glued to the wall of Anne's bedroom, and a copy of a stock market game that Peter van Pels received on his 8th birthday was on display.  It was clear that these people were trying to live as normally as they could under impossible conditions.  The exhibit includes a number of powerful videos featuring Otto Frank (the sole member of the family who survived Auschwitz), Mies Gies (who worked for Otto and assisted in hiding the family), and Jacqueline van Maarsen (Anne's best friend).  The black-out curtains on the windows give museum-goers a small sample of the sensory deprivation that Anne and the others experienced day after day.   Visiting the Anne Frank House was an experience unlike any other I've had, and one that I won't forget any time in the near future.

The last museum that we visited was The Museum of Bags and Purses.  We went on a lark, expecting to look at pop art purses and bags that were carried on fashion runways.  The Museum actually chronicles the history of the purse over the last 500 years and was much more interesting than I expected.  We saw bags designed to carry relics and coins and love letters.  We saw Limoges wedding purses from the early 18th century with portraits of the bride and groom painted on enamel.  We saw "charletains" that hung from a woman's waist and to which she could attach items such as an umbrella (although we didn't think that would be particularly comfortable).  We learned that men carried purses until the 17th century when some bright designer figured out that it would be handy to have pockets in clothing to carry items while leaving your hands free.   The museum did have its share of silly bags as well, such as the bag shaped like the cruise ship "Normandie" which first class passengers received on the ship's maiden voyage from LeHavre to New York in 1935 and (my personal favorite) the crystal-laden bag shaped like a Diet Coke can. Looking at this bag reminds me that I'm feeling a bit jet lagged at the moment.  Time to head to the frig for a Diet Coke to help me through the rest of my day.  

"Toto, We're Not in Kansas Anymore" - Amsterdam, Part 1

Amsterdam.  A city synonymous with canals, tulips, bikes, and cheese. Yet when I mentioned to people that my friend Andrea and I were heading to Amsterdam for a few days, the conversation inevitably turned to whether we were going to hang out in a hash den and visit the Red Light District.   So, while our trip gave me lots to blog about,  I thought I would lead with the tawdry.  

Yes, prostitution is legal in the Netherlands.  And yes, there are women who sit in windows in Amsterdam's Red Light District whose services are available for purchase.  (As an aside, the few we saw all seemed to be texting while waiting for customers--"love" in the 21st century!)  The streets in the Red Light District reminded me of Bourbon Street at its worst with the hordes of half-drunken men and tourists (not that the two groups are mutually exclusive) checking out the merchandise.   I felt like I needed a shower when I got back to the hotel, and that was before I did some reading about the link between prostitution in the Netherlands and human trafficking.

The Netherlands also has a non-enforcement policy of its laws with respect to the use of "soft" drugs like cannibis.  This has led to the proliferation of "coffee shops" throughout Amsterdam where you can get a cup of coffee and a joint and have a smoke with your buddies.  Mellow Yellow was on the main street by our hotel and was a landmark for us in our travels.  (While the bright yellow sign was like a beacon, we could have found Mellow Yellow by the "skunk" smell alone if push came to shove.)  If you're interested in checking out this part of the Amsterdam scene, get there this year because new laws prohibiting the sale of pot and hash in coffee shops to foreigners will go into effect on January 1, 2013.  (The rationale of letting Netherlanders imbibe while preventing foreigners from doing so is a bit unclear but the government seems to feel that the ready availability of drugs in the country is attracting an undesirable foreign element.  Perhaps stopping the practice altogether might be a better policy, but who am I to say?)

For people who are more back to nature, you can buy cannibis seeds at one of the local head shops and grow your own dope.   (Production of cannibis is technically illegal in the Netherlands, but this law also apparently goes unenforced.)  The shops also sell a wide variety of bongs and pipes for your smoking pleasure, some of which are quite utilitarian and others of which are beautiful pieces of blown glass that you wouldn't be surprised to see in a nice craft shop or a museum.

Speaking of museums, if you're interested in learning more about walking on the wild side, you won't want to miss the Hash, Marijuana and Hemp Museum.  Sadly, our schedule did not permit  us to learn about the history and use of cannibis around the world.    I have no doubt, though, that it would have been an interesting counterpoint to the works of the Old Masters that we saw at the Rijksmuseum.

Florida Repertory Theater Presents Red

About ten minutes into Florida Rep's production of "Red," I put my notepad and pen away and settled in to watch the show.  There was so much to think about that I didn't want to be distracted by trying to jot down lines that I particularly liked.  When I got home that evening I did something unprecedented--I ordered a copy of the play from Amazon to read on my brand spanking new Kindle Fire.   What a treat to read this incredibly exciting and thought-provoking play and have the chance to consider it at my leisure after having seen Florida Rep's outstanding performance.

Rothkos' Four Darks in Red (1958)
Currently hanging in Whitney Museum in NY

Going into the play, all that I knew was that it was about the artist Mark Rothko.  I assiduously avoided reading the reviews of the production (which was fairly challenging since that week's edition of Florida Weekly covered both the Florida Rep AND the Asolo Rep productions!)   The play is set in the late 1950s over a two year period when Rothko is painting a series of murals for the soon-to-open Four Seasons restaurant in New York.  The entire play takes place in Rothko's studio and consists of an on-going conversation between Rothko and his new assistant, Ken.

The play opens with Rothko introducing Ken to one of his paintings.  "... Let it wrap its arms around you; let it embrace you, filling even your peripheral vision so nothing else exists or has ever existed or will ever exist.  Let the picture do its work--But work with it.  Meet it halfway for God's sake!  Lean forward, lean into it.  Engage with it!... These pictures deserve compassion and they live or die in the eye of the sensitive viewer, they quicken only if the empathetic viewer will let them. ... Now, what do you see?"  These have to be some of the most intimidating words ever first spoken between an employer and employee.   And I could only imagine that Rothko might have been just a wee bit disappointed with Ken's response:  "Red."   And so, the play began.

Rothko then drills his new employee a bit for good measure, asking him, "Who is your favorite painter?"  "Jackson Pollock."  Rothko obviously sees Pollock as a rival--notwithstanding that he's dead--and pursues the conversation, asking Ken if he'd read Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy.  "No."  How could Ken possibly appreciate Pollock if he hadn't read Nietzche???  Was Ken familiar with "Freud?  Jung?  Byron? Wordworth? Aeschylus? Turgenev? Sophocles? Schopenhauer? Shakespeare?. .. Philosophy.  Theology.  Literature.  Poetry. Drama.  History.  Archeology.  Anthropology.  Mythology.  Music.  These are your tools as much as brush and pigment.  You cannot be an artist until you are civilized.  You cannot be civilized until you learn.  To be civilized is to know where you belong in the continuum of your art and your world."  (It might be worth mentioning at this point that Rothko was quite an intelligent fellow with a liberal arts education from Yale.)  Ken later reports to Rothko that he's read Birth of Tragedy (which is a tale of two Greek  gods, Dionysus and Apollo) and that he thinks he understands why Rothko wanted him to read it.  "Dionysus is the God of wine and excess; of movement and transformation.  This is Pollock:  wild; rebellious; drunken and unrestrained...Apollo is the God of order, method and boundaries.  This is Rothko:  intellectual; rabbinical; sober and restrained.  The raw experience leavened by contemplation...  He splatters paint.  You study it." Rothko scoffs at the simplicity of Ken's views, telling him that Dionysus and Apollo in fact have a symbiotic relationship and that it's the balance between the two approaches that one must strive for in art (and, by extension, in life.)

Yes, Rothko was pompous and egomaniacal, ultimately resigning his mural commission for the Four Seasons because the restaurant was crassly commercial and he wanted his work to be contemplated in a chapel, "a place of communion," not treated as an "overmantle."  (As in, "Honey, let's get a painting to put over the mantle.  It has to have some blue in it to match the sofa.")   But Rothko was also smart, and he was appropriately concerned about being displaced as Pop Art and the likes of Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein were coming onto the scene.   There's no doubt that modern art is hard to understand, and one of the things I enjoyed most about "Red" was the way it put Rothko's work in the context of art history.   Throughout the play there's a great discussion of this continuum.  "We destroyed Cubism, de Kooning and me and Pollock and Barnett Newman and all the others.  We stomped it to death...  The child must banish the father.  Respect him, but kill him..  Courage in painting isn't facing the blank canvas, it's facing Manet, it's facing Velasquez.  All we can do is move beyond what was there, to what is here, and hope to get some intimation of what will be here."  

Rothko and Ken also talk about the role of the viewer in appreciating abstract art.  Ken mused that, "Representational pictures are unchanging; they don't require the active participation of the viewer.  Go to the Louvre in the middle of the night and the 'Mona Lisa' will still be smiling.  But do these paintings [Rothko's] still pulse when they're alone?"  Rothko's response:  "A picture lives by companionship.  It dies by the same token.  It's a risky act to send it out into the world..." He later says that, "Selling paintings is like sending a blind child into a room full of razor blades."

The title of the play comes from a scene when Rothko asks himself aloud what one of his ongoing paintings needs and Ken responds, "Red."  Outraged by what he sees as an unsolicited comment from his employee, he throws quite the fit.   The two men end up in a heated back and forth about what the color red represents.  "Red is heart beat.  Red is passion.  Red is wine.  Red roses.  Red lipstick.  Beets. Tulips.  Peppers."  "Arterial blood."  "Rust on the bike on the lawn."  "And apples...And tomatoes."  "Dresden firestorm at night.  The sun in Rousseau, the flag in Delacroix, the robe in El Greco."  "A rabbit's nose.  An albino's eyes.  A parakeet."  "Florentine marble.  Atomic flash.  Nick yourself shaving, blood in the Barbasol."  "The Ruby Slippers.  Technicolor.  That phone to the Kremlin on the President's desk."  "Russian flag, Nazi flag, Chinese flag."  "Persimmons.  Pomegranates.  Red Light District.  Red tape. Rouge."  "Lava.  Lobsters.  Scorpions."  "Stop sign.  Sports car.  A blush."  "Viscera.  Flame.  Dead Fauvists."  "Traffic lights.  Titian hair."  "Slash your wrists.  Blood in the sink."  "Santa Claus."  "Satan."  "So...red."   Brilliant.  

The play keeps coming back to the relationship between art and its viewers.  Notwithstanding Rothko's rather oversized ego, his greatest fear seems to have been that he would not find an audience with the capacity to look at his paintings in the way that he wanted them to be viewed and considered and treated as significant.  Rothko associated black with "Belshazzar's Feast," a painting by Rembrandt.  It's a painting representing the story of Belshazzar, the King of Babylon, who blasphemes at a feast of which he is the host.  A divine hand appears and writes on a dark wall the words, "You have been weighed in the balance and have been found wanting."   Ken tells him, "..in your heart, you no longer believe those people [who can "appropriately" appreciate his work] exist...So you lose faith...So you lose hope...So black swallows red."  You have been found wanting.

There's no doubt that "Red" isn't for everyone.  The gentleman sitting next to me asked me how I would rate it on a scale of 1-10.  "12" was my enthusiastic response.  He was a bit taken aback as he and his wife rated it a "6".  I also overheard some people on the way out saying that they thought it was boring.  In some ways, "Red" is as abstract as one of Rothko's paintings.  Most of the action goes on between your ears.  If you don't love art and have enough art history under your belt to summon up the works of the artists who are mentioned, I can see that it would be not be very interesting (much as David Auburn's play "Proof"--a story about math and madness--held no appeal for me).  I will be the first to admit that I am not sufficiently well versed to understand all of the references made in the play to philosophy and theology and the like.  But the challenge to understand the impact of these disciplines on the creation of a work of art is incredibly exciting .  If you have any interest at all in modern art, don't miss seeing this play while it's in our area.  There's no doubt that it will linger with you long after the curtain drops.

Live Model Class at the Visual Arts Center

As I've gotten older, I often catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or a shop window and think, "Who is that person?"   Like many people, I envision myself about 20 years younger and as full of life on the outside as I feel on the inside.  So it was an interesting--if not ego-boosting--experience to see myself through the eyes of several artists when I sat as a model for a class at the Visual Arts Center last week.

You might wonder how I ended up perched on a chair in the front of a room feeling a bit like a piece of furniture or fruit as artists peered at me from all angles.  My friend Susan takes art classes at the Visual Arts Center when she is here for the season.    A few weeks ago, Susan was asked by Margaret Egli-Thomson, her instructor, to model for a class.  Susan agreed and really enjoyed the experience.  When I asked her how it went, she told me that they were in need of additional models and wondered if I would be interested.  Why not?   

The class was held in the Salon des Refuses at the Visual Arts Center.   Just a few days before, the gallery had been filled with works from the National Art Exhibit; the works on display had not been selected for that show.   The "Salon des Refuses" moniker is a reference to the exhibitions in 19th century Paris of works that had been rejected by the jury of the Paris Salon.  The most famous Salon des Refuses was in 1863 and included Manet's Dejuener sur L'Herbe (Luncheon on the Grass) and Whistler's Symphony in White:  The White Girl.  During the 1870s many Impressionists exhibited their works in the Salon des Refuses as a protest against the art establishment.  Their objective was to let the public draw their own opinions about the art rather than be dictated to by the "experts."   But back to the present day....

John's rendition

Not surprisingly, I felt quite self-conscious as the class got underway.  It is a strange experience to have a group of people peering at you without any interaction.  I became aware of how much I was blinking as I tried to sit still in my seat.  There was a lamp directed at the left side of my face that became quite warm as the afternoon progressed.  Margaret was very considerate, though, and gave me a break every ten minutes so that I could move around and see what was happening in the class. 

For someone who is intimidated by the mere thought of picking up a paintbrush, it was quite impressive to see these artists at work and a lot of fun to see the works progress. It was interesting to see the process behind the creation of a painting.  The class was first asked to prime their canvasses, and the students chose a variety of colors.  There was bright yellow and purple and all different shades of brown.  I neglected to ask the students what they were thinking when making their color choices (but am hoping that the people who chose darker colors weren't responding to some sort of dark vibe in me!)  The students were then told to do a bit of sketching to get a sense of where they wanted to go with their work.  Some people sketched directly onto their canvas and worked from there.  Others did pencil sketches on scrap paper and then began work on their canvas, using their paint to draw the outlines of the figure.  Margaret encouraged the students to think about the "values" of the subject--the contrasts between lights and darks (which is probably why I had a light directed at my face).    They were encouraged to step away from their canvasses periodically to get some perspective on their work.  As the afternoon progressed, Margaret  roamed around the room to help the students make adjustments to their work.

Margaret's final product

It ended up being quite a fun way to spend an afternoon (even if I did come away with a checklist of items to look for at the beauty counter and a resolve to get a hair style that doesn't show off my high forehead!)   I also came away with a greater appreciation of what goes on at the Visual Arts Center.  During the course of the afternoon, there were four painting classes and one photography class filled with students working on their craft.  (I suspect I missed a pottery class being taught since I didn't wander back to that studio.)  Some artists were collecting their works that had been on display for the National Art Show; others were stopping by to drop off works for the upcoming Student-Teacher show.  And of course the gift shop was doing a bit of business.   The Visual Arts Center is a vibrant part of our community, with something for everyone who is the least bit artistically inclined.    If you haven't done so in the past, you should definitely check it out.

Venice Theater Presents The Music Man

When I was growing up (long before the days of Tivo and Netflix), one of the local TV stations aired old movies on Sunday mornings.  My father and I would often watch together, and one of our favorites was The Music Man starring Robert Preston as con man Professor Harold Hill and Shirley Jones as Marian the Librarian. So when I saw that The Music Man was in this season's line-up at The Venice Theater, I really couldn't resist, and I decided to get tickets for when my high school friend Sarah was visiting.

Nobody I talked to had ever been to the Venice Theater, so I had no idea what to expect.   It turns out that it is a very high level of community theater.  The theater itself is quite nice and has two performance spaces, the Main Stage (where we saw the show) and the "Little" Venice Theater for more intimate productions.   When perusing the playbill before the show, we learned that the annual budget for the Theater is over $2.5MM, that the Theater is putting on 14 theatrical productions this season in addition to a concert series, and that the Theater has been in existence for over 60 years.  Clearly not your run-of-the-mill amateur theater group putting productions on in a church hall.  With this information in hand, we settled in to our seats for the show.

The curtain rose and I smiled for the next 2 1/2 hours as I listened to some of the most fun--and recognizable--movie music of all time.  The show starts with "Rock Island," a clever song with amazingly complicated lyrics that is performed by several traveling salesman as they are being jostled on a train on the way to their next station stop--River City, Iowa.  (Sarah observed that the song was almost like an early version of rap music, and she's right!)  We heard Doug Landin as Professor Hill sing "Ya Got Trouble [right here in River City, and that starts with a 't' that rhymes with 'p' that stands for 'pool']" and  "Marian the Librarian" and listened as Hill and the townspeople performed a rousing rendition of "Seventy-Six Trombones."   Laurie Colton as Marian (the Librarian) sang "Goodnight, My Someone" and nine-year old Nathan Oss belted out "Gary, Indiana"  in his role as the lisping Winthrop.   These were just a few of the 23 numbers during the course of the show.

The sets were well done, and the costumes were outstanding.  I particularly liked the costumes for the ladies' dance group that was formed at Hill's suggestion by the Mayor's wife and her cohorts.  The costumes for the scene when they dance with Grecian urns on their heads were particularly good (and the scene was pretty darn funny.)

My friend Andrea has accused me of the equivalent of grade inflation in my blogging.  In my defense, I only choose to write about the things I do that I really enjoy.  There's plenty of time outside of my blogging to dwell on the disappointments in life.   But in the interest of being honest here, I will say that the acoustics weren't fantastic in the theater, that the mixing was a bit uneven, and that the performers were not Broadway caliber.   I will also say that these facts didn't detract from our enjoyment of the show one bit.  It was great fun to watch music transform the lives of the citizens of River City.  And it was equally fun to experience the pleasure that both the actors and the audience clearly took from the show.  It was a reminder of how powerful a contribution the arts make to our community, be it a community theater such as the Venice Theater, an artists' cooperative such as the Visual Arts Center, or a professional symphony such as the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra.   Southwest Florida really does have it all!

Charlotte Symphony Orchestra Presents Scandinavian Night

Rules are made to be broken.   And the typically well-disciplined Charlotte Symphony Orchestra audience did just that last night when many concertgoers broke into applause after the completion of the first movement of Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg's Piano Concerto in A Minor, Op. 16  featuring 17 year old pianist Alex Beyer.    I'm not talking a spattering of applause either.  I personally wanted to jump to a standing ovation but that definitely would have been over the top (and quite visibly inappropriate from my seat in the front row where I had a bird's eye view of the keyboard!)

 In his pre-concert interview with Katherine Caldwell, Alex shared that the concert would be the first time that he played the Grieg Piano Concerto in a performance, and I'm betting it won't be his last.  Caldwell asked him what he liked about the work and his response was quite thoughtful (especially for a 17 year old kid.)  He said that the concerto is "flashy" and therefore "accessible" to the audience (spot on on both points!) so that the challenge is bringing it to a new level and finding the "edge between the poetic and atmospheric."    He told us that when he plays the second movement, he visualizes the beautiful scenery in Norway that inspired Grieg to compose this piece and tries to "create moments of vast expanse."  I understood what he meant as I listened to the second movement of the concerto with its relative serenity after the flourish of the first movement.   It was truly a wonderful and exciting performance by both Beyer--whose fingers both flew and flowed over the keyboard--and the CSO.

But the Grieg Piano Concerto wasn't the only excitement last night.  The first half of the evening featured Finnish composer Jean Sibelius' Finlandia, Op. 26 and Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 43, and they were incredibly stirring and powerful.  Finlandia was dramatic with its crashing cymbals and blaring trumpets and ascending strings.  I learned from Caldwell's program notes that Sibelius composed Finlandia in 1899 for a political demonstration in Helsinki at a time when Russia was tightening its grip on Finland, and it continues to be one of Finland's most important national songs.  Interestingly, this music was included in the score for Die Hard 2:  Die Harder (so perhaps I wasn't the only one who felt a massive adrenalin rush from this piece!)   At the end of this piece (which opened the concert), the audience gave the CSO a standing ovation.  Yes, it was just that kind of night!

Sibelius' Symphony No. 2 rounded out the evening with its four movements.  Once again, it was a dramatic and exciting piece of music and it showed off the depth of talent in the CSO.   The second movement started with an unusual pizzicato "conversation" between the cellos and the basses, and the bassoons had a section of their own.  The third movement was my favorite, though.  As a Phantom of the Orchestra (the CSO's volunteer organization), I was able to attend part of Saturday afternoon's rehearsal for the concert, and the musicians were working on the third movement.  It was really fun to see them fine tune their performance and to hear Maestro Wada's words of encouragement.  (Among other things, he said, "Let's play cool" in the heat of the lights on the barely air-conditioned stage.)   It was tantalizing to hear little snippets of the movement, and I was thrilled when they played it from start to finish before their break.  The music was amazing and sounded straight out of a movie soundtrack.  (Stephanie, who attended the concert with me, wondered how many movie music composers were inspired by this work, and Caldwell commented in her pre-concert talk that it sounded like a John Williams score.  Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that John Williams' music sounds like Sibelius' Symphony No. 2!)    As the Symphony came to a close, my heart was pounding, and I wanted more.

It's hard to imagine a better ending to this season's classical concert series and to Maestro Wada's tenure as conductor of the CSO.  (Happily, I am jumping the gun a bit because we still have the April Pops concert with the Kruger Brothers, but this was the Maestro's last classical concert.)    The musicians of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra have shown us time and time again that they can rise to any challenge put in front of them.  This knowledge and confidence will put them in good stead as "our" symphony orchestra moves forward to a future without MaestroWada at the helm. Like everyone else, I will sorely miss the warmth and enthusiasm and creativity that Francis has brought to the CSO.   His selections as musical director over the past two years have made me--someone without any background in classical movement--passionate about the symphony.  Filling his shoes is going to be a big job, but I'm confident that the CSO has a bright future,  and I am looking forward to many more exciting symphonic experiences in the years to come.