NYC Scene: Junk in the Trunk

5th Avenue at Washington Square. Photo: LB

Too much sitting in one place

Isn’t good habit for one’s waist.

It’s a fact, you must agree:

You’ve got flab, - and you’re a tree.

NYC Scene: Bike Share

Rental bikes on LaGuardia Place, New York; photo: LB

If your life has lost its spice,

You should try this new device:

Risk and thrill by Money Mike,

Rent today a Citi bike!

Чем пахнет Пушкин

Onegin, 6 Ave at Waverly Place, New York

Меня давеча спросили, что для меня означала бы следующая фраза, всплывшая в чьём-то сне: «Ты пахнешь, как Пушкин». Тот, кому эта фраза пришла, по-видимому, рано утратил связь с русской культурой, поэтому меня призвали в качестве эксперта по вынюхиванию классиков.

Чем пахнет Пушкин?

Как говаривала Баба Яга, «Чую, чую, русским духом пахнет!», а Пушкин ей вторил, правду говоришь, бабка, «Там русский дух... там Русью пахнет!»

Я подумала, что лирика Пушкина если и пахнет, то природой да положенными розами, а вот поэмы источают разнообразные ароматы, особенно Евгений Онегин. Веет от них жизнью, какой её воспринимал человек с острым глазом, ухом, нюхом и зубом, до этой самой жизни зело охочий. Не претендуя на полноту или даже добросовестность, я набросала шутейный и беспорядочный список пушкинских ароматов, которые запали мне в нос, по принципу «сколько ни говори халва», во рту сладко всё же станет, особенно если правильно говорить, в чём Пушкин был мастер.

Так чем же пахнет Пушкин?

Женщинами

Зимой, морозом, снегом, ненастьем, лошадьми, мокрым мехом и овчиной

Природой, погодой, остальными тремя временами года, влажным климатом, деревней, грибами и ягодами

Городом

Хорошей, недиетической едой

Хорошим алкоголем

Старым домом, хозяйством, чаем, дымом, табаком

Одеждой и парфюмерией

Театром

Деньгами, богатством и бедностью, подземельем, смертью, порохом, адом

Отсутствием запаха

Squeezing the Mongoose

Black Jambhala, Tibet, 13 c., Rubin Museum

No, I haven’t come up with a new euphemism (or have I?). 

I am referring to Jambhala, the pot-bellied deity of wealth in Tibetan Tantric tradition. Jambala exists in five different forms – Yellow, Red, Black, White, and Green Jambhala – and is usually portrayed holding a mongoose in his left hand. Jambhala squeezes the mongoose against his pudgy side, and the animal spews jewels out of his mouth.

The Black Jambhala (or Kubera in Hindu mythology) from the Rubin Museum collection is also accompanied by a snake, a guardian of treasure and a symbol of avarice, and treads on a supine Lord of Wealth, who appears to be quite lifeless. In his right hand, Jambhala holds a Kapala (cup made of a human skull). When worshiped properly, Jambhala’s blessings include freedom from poverty (so that one might practice Dharma), fulfillment of wishes, and good relationships. The correct ritual includes pouring water on his belly (for the Black Jambhala; or head for other forms) and chanting an appropriate mantra.

Tatyana at the not-so-lotus feet
of Mayor LaGuardia

I am no Buddhist, but Jambhala does not look like a jealous god, so I will make up my own appeal to him:

“O Jambhala, 
Teach us how much is enough.

Help us provide for the old and sick.

Allow me to have enough resources

to remain healthy 
and not to let fear and uncertainty

to distract me from doing 
what is important.

But first please give me 
some time and food

to figure out what is important.”

Now, is it me or does the good Mayor LaGuardia have something of Jambhala in his figure and body language? Alas, the mongoose is missing, perhaps due to budget cuts. 

Speaking of providing necessities, the bag of food comes from the tried and true Boyd Thai place (210 Thompson St. at Bleecker St. near NYU).

See more about Jambhala here and a very politically correct description from Rubin Museum here.

Thanks to Tatyana!

Gancho, Tibetan Style

Lords of the Charnel Ground, Tibet, 18th century,
Rubin Museum of Art, New York

Take a look at the double gancho (leg hook) executed by the Tibetan lords of charnel ground, who dance ecstatically to celebrate their joy of being free from attachment. These deities are brother and sister. The brother wears a garland of freshly severed human heads, and the sister wears a garland of dried skulls and holds a staff and a golden vase. They are revered as powerful protectors.

The prayer on the back of this plaque says (according to the Rubin Museum exhibit description):

“Eliminate misery from harmful spirits, fire, water, and lightning, the perseverance of ill-will, robbery, thievery, and harmful underground and earth spirits; in short, protect from outer, inner, and secret adverse conditions from today until attaining great awakening.”

Photo: Tatyana Rector

NYC Scene: Not My Problem

ABC Store, Jackson Heights, Queens

If your tail is flat and bony,

But you wish it weren't as scrawny,

Your defects are yours to hide:
Reupholster your backside!

An Ode to My Body

Hermitage Cat, St. Petersburg, Russia

While watching videos of the lectures by Tara Brach, I came across one lecture titled “The Divine Abodes”. Although dyslexia does not seem to be among my afflictions, I often misread things in creative ways, and every time I looked at this title, I read it as “The Divine Antibodies”.

Then late yesterday I was given a meditation task: “Write – and publish – an ode to your physical body. Be frilly and flowery. Lay it on thick.”

The Divine Antibodies

I am yet to make peace with you.

Every time I look in the mirror, I question how this creature could possibly be me.

I remember the times, eons ago, when you were different, – lean, fit, strong, and male. In those times, I liked taking risks and often put you in danger, but it was a thrill to live in that body. Now you are not as exciting, but I have lost my taste for death.

But now you seem to be as confused as I am. You cannot tell what is yours and what isn’t. You attack what you think does not belong to you, and I am caught in your friendly fire.

I do not understand the purpose of this confusion.

You spite me with those antibodies and rob me of energy. I resent it, but sometimes it prevents me from wasting my energy on things that do not deserve it.

I often create stress, and you get back at me by flooding us both with adrenalin.

Sometimes I eat the wrong things, I don’t let you sleep enough, and I deny you the joy of a better lymphatic flow. You have a million sneaky ways of reminding me that I cannot win against you.

You have a mind of your own. I do not always appreciate the competition.

You are supposed to be a vehicle of my soul. Sometimes I think that you know more about it than I do.

Why are you eating while I’m not looking?

I used to strongly dislike you. But it gets better with age.

Early on your size and shape saved me the trouble of trying to become a dancer. It was not a bad choice.

But you still have ballet exercises hard-wired in you. I am always puzzled about where you got it from.

You showed me what it means to have a natural talent, after I spent quarter of a century doing things for which I have no gifts. Talent is a 50% off coupon: you still need to work, but I have a huge advantage. I can trust you to figure things out.

I do not want you to grow any new things, unless you really, really need them.

I think I am your master. I am probably wrong.

I am learning to appreciate you.

I was taught that it is not good to like things that are not perfect, and you are certainly flawed. But you can still do beautiful things.

Once I dreamed that I died, but needed to come back and work. I made myself a new body out of otherworldly trash. That homemade vehicle was okay for the office, but it was not nearly as good as you, even though no one but me noticed the difference.

You are just what I need.

But please curb those divine antibodies.


Update 5.16.13: "Very well. And now keep writing and rewriting this ode regularly until it ends with an unambivalent 'I adore you!'" 

Ganchos with Pablo Pugliese and Noel Strazza

Thanks to Young Kim

Yesterday (5/12/13) I attended a workshop on ganchos with Pablo Pugliese and Noel Strazza at Dance Manhattan. This was a second time that I took workshops with them, and this workshop only reinforced my initial positive impression. In fact this workshop was calmer and quieter than the first one, which worked well for me. These guys have a good understanding of movement and can articulate it well; they are relaxed, helpful and humorous. Meanwhile the student groups at DM consistently follow the law of Forrest Gump, that is, you never know what you're gonna get. This time the group reflected the typical broad distribution of skills and attitudes.

Pablo has the most illustrious tango pedigree as the son of Mingo and Esther Pugliese (tango - tango - milonga - vals - I intentionally selected videos showing them in their 70s), who were to a large degree responsible for the creation of the modern tango style in the 1940s and 50s and the revival of tango both in Argentina and abroad in the 1980s and 90s. So far I found the most literate and articulate account of their story in an interview with Mingo and Esther for the French magazine La Salida (No. 47, February-March 2006). A Russian translation of this interview, along with several other notable articles, is published on TangoSquare site in Kazakhstan (yes, people, there is tango in Almaty - look it up on the map). Pablo began dancing tango at the age of nine, performing on stage at eleven, and in his teens started teaching tango abroad with his mother, when Mingo was unable travel.

In the Temple of Goddess Louisa

The Cloisters, New York

Once I was given the following meditation task: “Imagine being a minor deity. Create your own cult. Build your own temple. Be as decorative and aesthetically excessive as you wish. Do not edit or judge.”

I was inspired by this exercise, and part by part, quite effortlessly, my temple sprung into existence.

The first discovery that I made was an unexpected color scheme. I have always considered deep jewel tones – burgundy, ultramarine, purple, and emerald green – to be my colors. But my temple began to emerge in a much lighter and more subdued palette of moss-eaten stone, weathered yellowish and gray marble, light purplish pink of heather, deep green of pine needles, and light ochre of sand. A large compound of stone buildings quickly grew in front of my mind's eye, with arches and galleries, spacious chambers and quiet cloisters. Fountains and basins filled with water appeared in many places and filled the space with reflections and gentle sounds.

Sesto Will Make It: Giulio Cesare at the Met

Photo: Marty Sohl/Met Opera

“What do you think, will Sesto make it?” – “Of course, he will. It’s Baroque, only the bad guys die.”

I overheard this conversation in the ladies’ room of the Met Opera after the first act of Handel’s Giulio Cesare on Tuesday (5/7/13). Indeed, in 18th century operas the body count is low and the casualties are suffered mostly by the villains. But when the opera is four and a half hours long, the pertinent question is whether the audience will make it to the end!

Сон: Цитирую Гребенщикова на том свете

Photo: www.russianlook.com

Я нахожусь где-то на том свете, хотя ещё не померла, и вместе с другими обучаюсь всякой премудрости. Нашим обучением руководит Главный Дух, дядька средних лет в голубой рубашке и штанах-хаки, который выглядит как слегка потёртый школьный учитель. Мы, учащиеся, разыгрываем скетчи и сценки, которые должны объяснить нам какие-то мистические концепции на наглядных примерах. Одна из изучаемых тем – это прижизненные преображения души в результате всяких перипетий и испытаний. Главный Дух что-то объясняет по этому поводу, а я его и спрашиваю: “Это что, как у Гребенщикова про йогина, который ночью на кладбище отсекает привязанности, скармливая себя "голодным духам":

Они съедят его тело,

Они выпьют кровь до дна,

И к утру он чист-безгрешен,

Не привязан ни хрена. ”

Главный Дух отвечает, “Ага, именно так”.

* * *

I am somewhere in Otherworld, but not dead yet. Together with others I receive instruction in otherworldly wisdom. The proceedings are supervised by the Chief Spirit, a middle-aged guy in a blue shirt and khaki pants, who looks a bit like a slightly scruffy school teacher. We the students play-act various scenes and sketches that are supposed to expound different mystical concepts using simple examples. One of the studied themes is the transformations that the soul undergoes, while still dwelling in the body, as a result of various trials and tribulations of earthly life. The Chief Spirit explains something about this subject, and I ask him (in Russian), “So, is it similar to what Grebenshchikov wrote about a yogi, who severs attachments at night on charnel ground and feeding himself to the hungry spirits:

They will eat his body,
They will drink his blood to the last drop,
But by morning he’ll be pure and sinless,
Not attached even one bit.”

The Chief Spirit responds, “Yeah, exactly so.”

* * * 

Boris Grebenshchikov is an influential figure in late Soviet and later Russian popular culture, as a rock musician and the frontman of Aquarium, one of the oldest and most prominent Russian bands. Grebenshchikov is a prolific songwriter and frequently includes ideas and images borrowed from Buddhism and other Eastern philosophical traditions into his songs. His songs thus possess certain quasi-profound or mystical charm, which many people find attractive. I have never been a big fan of Grebenshchikov’s art, even though we finished the same high school, so it is all the more curious that I chose to quote his song in a dream.

Shakespeare in Africa

Photo: Richard Temine/BAM

A couple of weeks ago I was lucky to see Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar in a new production by the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) performed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM).

When I arrived at the picturesquely shabby Harvey Theater, the party was already underway: as the auditorium was filling up, on stage a group of actors in African garb were dancing to the music played by a small band. Even though I had seen posters for this production in the city, only then did I realize that this Caesar would be radically transplanted onto a very foreign soil.

This was a big gamble, and so I promised myself that I would leave as soon as I hear the buzz of Shakespeare spinning in his grave. However, not ten minutes into the performance, I completely forgot about my escape plans, because the RSC has won me over with their craft.

Carpe Diem - New York Attractions

Photo: LB

Recently I was asked to recommend places of interest in New York City that are worth showing to out-of-town guests. I started thinking about all those numerous NYC attractions that over the years have given joy to me and my friends and guests. The list was long, and I decided that I was wise to visit these places when I had a chance. Carpe diem seems to be the motto in this case. Here are my places of joy in New York.

Immigration Museum on Ellis Island (reopened after hurricane Sandy, with some exceptions). Inexplicably, all my guests loved it. Excellent free audio tours. 

Museum of Modern Art. Get in for free on Friday after 5 pm, start at the top floor and proceed toward the ground floor. 

Metropolitan Museum of Art. One can live there. My favorite sections are medieval armor, medieval art and Egypt. "Suggested admission", i.e., pay what you wish at all times. 

Guggenheim Museum. Worth visiting for the building alone. Pay what you wish Saturday 5:45-7:45 pm.

The Cloisters. Medieval department of the Met Museum. Irresistible in good weather, can be strangely peaceful. Long subway ride, but rewarding. "Recommended admission", i.e., pay what you wish.

Frick Collection. A small, but very pleasant fine arts museum. My favorites there are Bellini’s St. Francis of Assisi in the Desert, two portraits by Hans Holbein Jr., one of Thomas More, the other of Cromwell, and a charming clock by Lepaut with a terracotta sculpture by Clodion. Pay what you wish Sunday 11 am to 1 pm.

Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Excellent tours: it is one of those places that are more interesting to explore with a guide than on your own.

Riverside Church. Interesting history and structure, excellent music programs, very decent choir (sings every Sunday morning service), organ, and carillon, a gift from JD Rockefeller. Also visit Columbia University campus nearby and Grant's Memorial across the street.

American Museum of Natural History. Fascinating exhibitions, Planetarium, and IMAX theater. "Suggested admission", i.e., pay what you wish at all times.

Greenwich Village and the recently gentrified SoHo. Clubs (e.g., Blue Note), restaurants and cafes (La Lanterna has music nights). Walk in the Washington Square Park. Try jazz at Village Vanguard. Take Free Tours by Foot (pay what you wish). Eat borscht at the Olive Tree (117 MacDougal St.) watching Chaplin movies and drawing with chalk on table tops. 

St. Patrick's Cathedral and Rockefeller Center. 

Lincoln Center: Metropolitan Opera, Avery Fisher Hall (Philharmonic), Alice Tully Hall (chamber music), Julliard School, etc. A heaven for a lover of classical music, opera, and ballet. Rush tickets are now sold for $25 online beginning at noon on the day of the performance. Take a backstage tour of the Met during opera season. Hurry before this place goes bankrupt like the City Opera.

Carnegie Hall, Zankel Hall, Weill Hall. Another must-visit place for a classical music fan. Excellent acoustics for chamber music at Zankel Hall.

New York Public Library. Splendid interior at the Schwarzman Building with the lions on 42nd St and 5th Avenue. Free tours at 11 am and 2 pm (only 2 pm on Sunday). Good exhibitions.

Morgan Library and Museum. JP Morgan's private collection and a small museum, interesting interior, good collection of Near-Eastern seals and cuneiform tablets, fascinating history. Free admission on Fridays 7 pm to 9 pm ought to be taken advantage of. See my story about Morgan Library.

Trinity Church at World Trade Center. Excellent music programs at Trinity and at St Paul's Chapel nearby.

Joe's Pub and Public Theater. Joe’s Pub is a cabaret with an excellent music program. Book seats online. The best seats are the ones close to the stage or at the festooned "bar" between pillars on the slightly elevated second level.

The View Lounge, a huge revolving space at the top of the Mariott Marquis Hotel on Times Sq. Enjoy the elevator ride up there! Order drinks in the lounge, sit at the window and enjoy (also see Kosta's comment below on how to avoid waiting in line). A full revolution takes a little over one hour and the view from the top is exceptional, especially in fair weather.

High Line Park. This place was built around an old elevated rail track remaining from the olden days. Very pleasant way to spend an hour or two in good weather. 

Circle Line Sightseeing Cruises, boat rides in a circle around Manhattan (2.5 h long) or along a horseshoe around the southern half of the island (1.5 h), very enjoyable in good weather. Leaves from Pier 83 (42nd St., next to the Intrepid). On the Semicircle Cruise outbound loop, park yourself outside on the left side of the boat and snap great pics. Alternatively, take the Staten Island Ferry (free, 25 min trip), East River Ferry ($4-12), or water taxi ($5-30). 

Pearl Theatre. A small theater with offbeat repertoire.

The Noguchi Museum. Museum and sculpture garden of Isamu Noguchi in Queens. Pleasant way to spend a couple of hours when not in a hurry to do anything else (open Wed-Sun, closes early). 

tkts booths for discount tickets to Broadway shows. The one on Times Square is worth visiting for the cool red steps above it, a great place to take photos. I am allergic to musical theater, but some people consider it to be quintessential NYC form of entertainment.

Rubin Museum of Art, Art of the Himalayas and South Asia, interesting building, a small collection that cannot compete with the Met Museum, but focused and therefore educational; music programs on Wednesdays 5-7 pm. Free on Friday 6-10 pm.

Neue Gallerie. German and Austrian XX c. art in a small mansion on 5th Ave and 86 St. A nice place to visit in good company when you've seen it all in NYC. Free 6-8 pm first Friday of every month.

Intrepid Museum. Great fun for boys of all ages and sexes.

Brooklyn Academy of Music. BAM offers a diverse program of music, theater, and cinema, but for me it is a place to get a dose of Shakespeare. Easy commute from Manhattan.

Bronx Botanical Garden. Beautiful grounds and excellent exhibitions. Grounds are free all day Wednesday and 9-10 am on Saturday. Exhibitions require tickets.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Free on Tuesday and 10-12 am on Saturday. 

Kyukit (K-EYE-kit), the Rockefeller Estate in Tarrytown. If you go there by train (about 40 min ride from Grand Central, Metro North Hudson Line), on the way there, sit on the left side and enjoy spectacular views of the Hudson River. Also visit the Union Church with Chagall and Matisse stained glass windows. Very good dining on the main street in Tarrytown. See my story about Kyukit.

Bargemusic, a chamber music concert space on an old barge under the Brooklyn Bridge. Easy commute from Manhattan, excellent program. Half-price tickets for students. If you are prone to motion sickness and cannot tolerate occasional noise from the river, stay on terra firma and go to Zankel Hall or Alice Tully Hall instead. Spectacular view of lower Manhattan from near the Barge. It's also a good place to stop before or after walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Princeton University. The campus (virtual tour) is pleasant to visit, especially in the fall. A little over 1 hr train ride from Penn Station (Northeast Corridor). Catch a free concert at the Chapel. Several ok eateries on the streets just outside the campus.

TimeOut New York, a good source of information about various NYC events, including free ones.

Get this list in PDF with links.

Photo: Empire State Building illuminated in honor of the World AIDS Day (December 1, 2012) 

Сон: Чапаев на пляже

Я стою на пустынном пляже, руки в боки, и, щурясь на солнце, оглядываю окрестности. Со мной ещё двое. Наконец кто-то из нас троих произносит: "И на фига этот идиот Чапаев снова распахивает Куршскую косу на своей тачанке?"




I am standing on a deserted beach, arms akimbo, surveying the seaside. There are two other people with me. Finally one of us says, "Why the heck is this idiot Chapaev plowing the Curonian Spit on his tachanka again?"

* * *
Vasily Chapaev is a historical character turned cult figure of the Soviet era folklore and a hero of numerous off-color (but many of them very funny) anecdotes. The Curonian Spit used to be a border zone, and during the Soviet rule its dunes were indeed regularly plowed by tanks, in order to expose any tracks crossing this strip of land.

Finding Balance

After a dance workshop, a good woman gives a thank you hug to the genius loci of two Manhattan dance schools (one and the other). The genius says, come on, let’s dance, takes the woman by the hand and leads her back to the dance floor. The woman weakly protests, because she has already changed into her street shoes, a pair of athletic flats, but cannot resist the chance to dance with a good leader. I watch the two of them dance for a few seconds and realize that the woman moves with much more grace and confidence than usual. It occurs to me that all this time she has been fighting her dance shoes, struggling to maintain balance. I get very excited about this discovery and point out this metamorphosis to our teacher. The teacher agrees with me and suggests to the woman a model of low- and broad-heeled shoes and where to buy them. I will not be surprised to see a dramatic change in this woman's dancing. A series of trivial discoveries, small mitzvahs, and a little bit of mindfulness goes a long way.