Knight Peak, sunset. Our adopted mountain in NM.
Deb's school portrait, age 14. We met when she was 15.
Lake Penage, where I spent my summers from age 10-30. Taken from Hill #3. I can't find my images from Hill #5.
Our local mountain range, known as Detroit. The best views are from Windsor.
Stayed tuned for more fun with senses, after a word from these films we recently watched.
My choice last week was Le Amiche, by Antonioni. From 1955, it can be considered a women's picture, though not the way American films would be. The lead is an independent woman who is opening a branch of a fashionable clothing store in Turin. Shot on location, it also follows the lives of four other women, including one who is suicidal. Based on a novella written in 1950, it was updated significantly for the film. An early masterpiece by one of my favourite directors, this film is worth more than a single viewing. Luckily there were lots of Criterion extras to watch, which often almost gets viewers through the film again. One of the extras dealt mostly with the fashions, and how the director uses clothes in his films, even shoes. Quite remarkable, and opens the eyes to so many possibilites and interpretations. And just seeing so much of Turin 10 years after the war is also quite remarkable. Much more Antonioni coming soon.
Showing on Criterion.
Deb's movie choice was called The Juniper Tree, an Icelandic film based on a story by the brothers Grimm. Filmed in b & w, this stark, medieval tale of visions and magic is a mesmerizing account of a young girl's (Bjork, who is perfect in the role) search for some closure with her dead mother. Iceland has never looked so hostile and forboding, so cold, dreary, and archaic. Though the film was made in 1990, it did not gain wide release until restoration of the print in 2015. This is a stand out film, so unique that it cannot be compared to any other film. Weird as it is, Deb says that the original story is even weirder. A must film to see.
Showing until May 31 on Criterion.
I had a wonderfully clear and warm night last Sunday, enjoying spring skies one last time before they change into summer ones. At sunset a finger nail moon sat above tiny Mercury, and they both sat above a bright crescent Venus, now nearly lost as it passes in front of the sun. After it was dark I resumed work on hunting down galaxies. My kind of hunting.
The listening program continues unabated, except when I leave for a night of astronomy. Then it is abated, temporarily. We have one more Haydn symphony left before switching to his string quartets, and one more round of Britten. With Britten we are hearing scattered versions of the many British folk songs he arranged, for both piano and orchestra. We will soon need to find a replacement for Britten. There is still a lot of Brahms left to go.
And speaking of listening, it's time for today's five senses revelation. Today it is hearing, something I do with only one functioning ear these days. Here (no pun intended) are my five favourite things to hear:
Hearing
1) Music (there's a surprise!) Bach, Mozart, Mahler et al, along with ambient music, a favourite piece of which is called "The Lost Day," by Brian Eno, from his album On Land.
2) Matsu Kaze. This is the name of a kata in Iaido, and it means "wind in the pines." The sound of wind in the pines, as heard in the mountains, is like no other sound. It can be as soft as a sigh, or as loud as an express train. We first truly heard it on our canoe trip into Ontario's La Cloche Mountains, and then again in NM. We slept once at 11,600' in NM, on a very cold and very wet night. The wind howled in the pines all night, and you could trace the wind gust path coming from higher altitudes, passing by our forest, and continuing on down the mountain. Memorable, to say the least.
3) Lapping water. Not the ocean kind, but the kind where a small lake washes against rocks on the shoreline. Again, my youth at Lake Penage leaves me craving this sound.
4) A purring cat.
5) Silence. No, this is not cheating, as there is really no such thing as true silence. But I appreciate a quiet environment. Perhaps my years as an elementary music teacher have something to do with this.
Mapman Mike
No comments:
Post a Comment