Skip to main content

Two ladies.

I went to see Cabaret: Le Musical de Broadway.
Of course it was amazing. Although I was not able to get any photos to blog and share. When I walked in they searched bags and I was forced to coat check my camera, for free so it wasn't too bad. Although this seemed a bit strange since there were quite a few people who had smuggled in cameras and were using them (with flash even) during the performance. But then again cell phones (which I have been told is a complete Americanism in the English language) have progressed far enough that they are like good cameras.
In the end I bought the CD for the show with the songs being sung in French. A souvenir and perhaps a lesson in translation.
So many of the scenes were so amazing. The simple little things that they did. I wish I had been closer to catch more of the smaller things, but front row center for our price bracket was amazing still. In their rendition of 'Two Ladies' one of the ladies was actually a man dressed up as a lady. It made for some fun grey areas of sexuality and perhaps changed the balance of the song into two men, but instead I think it was more just about the idea of three people being in a sexual situation with one another where actual sex doesn't matter and it is all about the perceived.
And the ending was just amazing. Heart wrenching. Slow clap and holding back tears.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Birth.

Hey. C'est moi.  It has been a few years. Since I last discussed into the void here I attended grad school for architecture at the University of Washington, finished the Master's program by the skin of my teeth, graduated into a global pandemic (I would not recommend this), gave away most of my worldly possessions, and am now flâneur-ing around Europe on the slim budget of my life savings. Allow me to reintroduce myself : I am the artist, Gaston. My interests include ; architecture, sustainability, art, vintage fashions, antiques, and flâneries. All while consuming massive quantities of tea. “I know where I'm from, but I don't know where I'm going.” I recently heard this line at a video playing at the Tate Museum in Liverpool, and it rang strong in me. In the film Casablanca, when Rick is questioned on his nationality he responds that his is a “drunkard,” insinuating that he has renounced his American nationality for that of someone who owns and runs a bar. From ...
1 comment
Read more

Windy Coffee. [part 1]

Fulya was looking at my sketchbook the other day and remarked that she liked the random sketch that I had made of some girl that I saw walking along with a little plastic cup of coffee during the wind storm a few weeks past. As I still have some small pieces of very good watercolor paper [that I had sized to be used for some small frames I had collected but did not have anything to put in them yet], I thought that perhaps I could transfer a little sketch to a little piece of paper to play with techniques. Namely the layering of water colors. Something that I know I have been working on a lot, but practice makes perfect. I also wanted to see how using my new mechanical pencil filled with blue graphite would work in hiding my lines as I initially worked. I forgot to take a picture of the transition between not having the girl inked at all to inking her and starting the background. I was having a hell of a time trying to figure out a setting in which to put her. At first I was th...
Post a Comment
Read more
French underworld tattoos at the turn of the century. The man sports a tattooed mustache intended to foil the prohibition of facial hair in the Foreign Legion. The World of Tattoo by Maarten Hesselt van Dinter. I can only dream of being anywhere near that combination of badass and crazy. Though at that point the Foreign Legion was probably still the best place for criminals to get their record cleaned so perhaps he is as well quite legitimately scary upon all of that. I find myself flipping back to this page time and time again to romanticize the French underground from around 1900. Give him an accordion, a beret, and some braces. Prostitutes who could easily kill you if you ever come up short and tattoo the names of their ‘actual’ lovers between their breasts, close to their heart. Tattoo ‘Je mother fucking t’aime’ in a tattoo cursive along my collar bones.
Post a Comment
Read more