On How to Live

Sometimes people seem impressed when I tell them I keep a journal. They seem to view it as a feat of discipline. But the truth is I write in those pages compulsively. It’s how I communicate with myself. Even in middle age, I’m trying to figure out how to live. In between the reminders to meditate and exercise and pick up milk, that’s what I keep coming back to in those entries. How do I want to spend my time?

I wish I could tell you I had hard and fast rules. I don’t. But I do notice that I tend to mark time by the art I interact with. I remember museum shows, or a theater performance, or the first time I see a particular ballet pas de deux. Other parts of my life can be a little bit of a blur — the runs in the park, the morning lattes, the hours spent at my computer editing. But then it is the daily effort on projects that lead to something bigger.

I think my goal for this upcoming year is to balance the quotidian work with getting out to see things. Maybe, too, doing things, like dancing merengue. It all requires effort, and sometimes it seems like making sure I’m fed and reasonably healthy and working is all I can manage. But there is a payoff to both daily effort and making time for the fun stuff. Here’s to trying, at least.

Calvin Royal III is Pushing the Boundaries of Ballet

I had the immense pleasure of profiling Calvin Royal III for NPR. One of the best afternoons I’ve had over the past few months happened at the American Ballet Theater’s studios, where he was rehearsing with Isabella Bolyston. They danced “Bitter Earth” which is one of those pas de deux that just grab you by the heart. I find it so enlivening to be with people who are passionate about what they do and put the hours in to make themselves as good as they possibly can be. To the point where they are the very best in the world.

Here’s Calvin as Apollo.

Photograph by Rosalie O'Connor.

Wintering the Pandemic

More than a foot of snow fell in New York City yesterday. The weird thing is, it didn’t change so much. It looked lovely and we went sledding in Riverside Park. But otherwise, we stayed in, just as we have for the past upteen months. No theater tickets to set aside, no plans to check out an exhibit at the Met. Or to meet up with anyone. We can’t be inside with others, after all, and it is frigid outside.

There’s a sense of stasis. I’ve been writing and reading. I miss being out, though. I realize why I became a reporter: it forced me out, gave me license, even a requirement to do so. I know those days will come back. I just miss them. It’s been a long process of wintering.

One of the Best Parts of NYC: Theater

I saw two plays last week: “A Strange Loop” and “Fairview.” They are both intense nights at the theater. “Loop” is about an African American artist who moonlights as an usher at The Lion King trying to find his place in the world. It was a glimpse into the gay community in the City, and how harsh and racist it can be. Also the scary moment when you are trying to do something creative and have no idea whether you can bring that work into the world.

Near the end, a patron at the “Lion King” gives Usher advice that can resonate with all of us. “Live your life and tell your own story in exactly the same way: truthfully and without fear.”

“Fairview” is harder to summarize—suffice it to say that it confronts the largely white audience and literally asks that we stand in the shoes of the African American cast. Before the curtain call, I was standing on the stage. For real.

There are a lot of things that can be tough about living in NYC. The heat this weekend is unbearable. It’s expensive. Often exhausting.

And then I go to these shows and I think: wow, thank you. It doesn’t just engage me in a way screens never match. I find those evenings stretch me. And I remember them long after I leave the theater.

It's Been a Minute

Wow, Sam Sanders is a really good interviewer.

https://www.npr.org/2018/09/17/648879063/interview-metoo-hits-elite-sports

I think an important part of engaging with someone is being present. Which is harder than it sounds. Particularly when you are simultaneously thinking—would that be a good cut of tape?

As someone pointed out to me once, the ear is shaped like a question mark. Listen before you ask.

Perhaps I should put that on the front page of my journal, as a reminder.

Giacometti at the Guggenheim

Last Saturday I saw the Giacometti exhibit at the Guggenheim Museum. I like going to lifetime retrospectives in part because it is an opportunity to see how artists evolve.

Early Giacometti was very derivative of the surrealists. And then he created his own very unique way of capturing people. What struck me most was how small details--a smudge on a face, a dab of color on an otherwise grey form--gave such a sense of life to his sculptures.

In a video at the end of the exhibit, he described the painstaking effort of trying to capture what couldn't be captured.

He was never satisfied with his art. But he never stopped working.

Heavenly Bodies at the Met

My cousin was in town last week and we traipsed around the city together. It is cool to see New York through a visitor's eyes. He didn't want to leave Washington Square Park. He was so taken with the performers and the fountain and the people milling around.

I did manage to get him to the Met, to see Heavenly Bodies, the costume exhibit: https://www.metmuseum.org/press/exhibitions/2017/heavenly-bodies

Who knew Valentino bridal dresses would blend in so well in the medieval hall.

Seeing The Damned at the Armory

It was a last minute, spur of the moment decision. But in keeping with my "take advantage of being in this city" pledge, I bought a cheap ticket to The Damned at the Armory. I've been an admirer of the director, Ivo van Hove, since I saw "A View from the Bridge" two and a half years ago.

I'm not going to get into great detail about the plot. Suffice it to say that it is about a German industrial family that implodes during World War II. The production is arguably a movie as much as a play: black-clad camera operators swoop around the stage, broadcasting what they capture on a big screen. There are images from it that I thought would infect my dreams. People are ritually led to coffins that line the left side of the stage, where they are in effect buried alive.

I admire von Hove's ability to distill the essence of a play. It's something I try to do in my own stories. I think, in a way, attending these cultural events prods me to contemplate how I can do that better. It's worth aiming for. Because it is when something is brought to its essence that it breaks through.

Returning to New York

I was out of town for a few weeks and just returned to New York earlier this week. It was brutally hot and my apartment felt like an oven. I had a "what am I doing here?" moment. Every denizen of this city tends to be hit with that feeling at some point or another.

But. Then I take stock of all that is here. And it is so much: the energy, the theater scene, the moments of connection on the subway and on the street. When you fall hard for this place it can be hard to imagine being anywhere else.

For the next two weeks, I'm going to catalogue some of the things that make me love this place. Stay tuned.

Summer

I had time today to read a novel for hours, lounging on a sofa. There was a time, when I was young, when I would spend entire days buried in a book. I miss those days. Grateful I was able to relive a bit of that on this summer afternoon.