Archives for September 6, 2005

I’m on the road today, freshly embarked on a week’s worth of wandering in Wisconsin, reviewing plays and visiting buildings designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Right at this moment, I’m sitting in the Schwartz House in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, one of the three Wright houses available for short-term rental to the general public. To be exact, I’m sitting at the built-in desk in the nook shown in the top two photos, listening to Appalachian Spring on my iPod, clicking away at my iBook, and trying to persuade myself that I really do need to go to bed. It didn’t occur to me when I arranged to spend the night here that I might find it too exciting to get any sleep….

I’m writing about this trip for The Wall Street Journal, so I mustn’t give the whole show away for free, but I’ll share a little taste with you: contrary to anything you may have heard or read about Wright’s houses, this one is comfortable. Incredibly so. Who knew?

I think I’d better sign off now, since I have a very long day ahead of me. I’ll do my best to check in tomorrow night, but don’t be shocked if I drop off the scope for a day or two.

Yes, I’m having fun yet.

I’m on the road today, freshly embarked on a week’s worth of wandering in Wisconsin, reviewing plays and visiting buildings designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Right at this moment, I’m sitting in the Schwartz House in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, one of the three Wright houses available for short-term rental to the general public. To be exact, I’m sitting at the built-in desk in the nook shown in the top two photos, listening to Appalachian Spring on my iPod, clicking away at my iBook, and trying to persuade myself that I really do need to go to bed. It didn’t occur to me when I arranged to spend the night here that I might find it too exciting to get any sleep….

I’m writing about this trip for The Wall Street Journal, so I mustn’t give the whole show away for free, but I’ll share a little taste with you: contrary to anything you may have heard or read about Wright’s houses, this one is comfortable. Incredibly so. Who knew?

I think I’d better sign off now, since I have a very long day ahead of me. I’ll do my best to check in tomorrow night, but don’t be shocked if I drop off the scope for a day or two.

Yes, I’m having fun yet.

I’ve written quite a bit in this space about Brian Friel’s 1964 play Philadelphia, Here I Come! Currently being revived off Broadway by the Irish Repertory Theatre, it’s the raucously funny, intensely poignant story of an angry young Irishman, his talkative alter ego, and the aging, uncommunicative father who can’t put his feelings for his son into words.

If you live too far from New York to see the Irish Rep’s superlative production, there’s an alternative: Friel adapted his play for the screen in 1975, and the film version will be telecast Sunday, September 18, at 10:30 a.m. EDT on Trio. The effect is very different from that of the stage play: film, being an essentially realistic medium, lends itself less well to the portrayal of such fantastic devices as an imaginary alter ego visible only to the audience. Still, the essence of the play remains intact, and the fact that the film was shot on location in Ireland lends a different kind of “authenticity” to the results.

For more information on the telecast, go here. To order Philadelphia, Here I Come! on DVD, go here.

I’ve written quite a bit in this space about Brian Friel’s 1964 play Philadelphia, Here I Come! Currently being revived off Broadway by the Irish Repertory Theatre, it’s the raucously funny, intensely poignant story of an angry young Irishman, his talkative alter ego, and the aging, uncommunicative father who can’t put his feelings for his son into words.

If you live too far from New York to see the Irish Rep’s superlative production, there’s an alternative: Friel adapted his play for the screen in 1975, and the film version will be telecast Sunday, September 18, at 10:30 a.m. EDT on Trio. The effect is very different from that of the stage play: film, being an essentially realistic medium, lends itself less well to the portrayal of such fantastic devices as an imaginary alter ego visible only to the audience. Still, the essence of the play remains intact, and the fact that the film was shot on location in Ireland lends a different kind of “authenticity” to the results.

For more information on the telecast, go here. To order Philadelphia, Here I Come! on DVD, go here.

– Weekly salary paid in 1927 to Bix Beiderbecke for playing cornet in the Paul Whiteman Orchestra: $200

– The same amount in today’s dollars, courtesy of Inflation Calculator: $2,092.32

(Source: Jean Pierre Lion, Bix: The Definitive Biography of a Jazz Legend)

– Weekly salary paid in 1927 to Bix Beiderbecke for playing cornet in the Paul Whiteman Orchestra: $200

– The same amount in today’s dollars, courtesy of Inflation Calculator: $2,092.32

(Source: Jean Pierre Lion, Bix: The Definitive Biography of a Jazz Legend)

“I thought, on the train, how utterly we have forsaken the Earth, in the sense of excluding it from our thoughts. There are but few who consider its physical hugeness, its rough enormity. It is still a disparate monstrosity, full of solitudes & barrens & wilds. It still dwarfs & terrifies & crushes. The rivers still roar, the mountains still crash, the winds still shatter. Man is an affair of cities. His gardens & orchards & fields are mere scrapings. Somehow, however, he has managed to shut out the face of the giant from his windows. But the giant is there, nevertheless.”

Wallace Stevens, notebook entry, 1904 (courtesy of Paul Moravec)

“I thought, on the train, how utterly we have forsaken the Earth, in the sense of excluding it from our thoughts. There are but few who consider its physical hugeness, its rough enormity. It is still a disparate monstrosity, full of solitudes & barrens & wilds. It still dwarfs & terrifies & crushes. The rivers still roar, the mountains still crash, the winds still shatter. Man is an affair of cities. His gardens & orchards & fields are mere scrapings. Somehow, however, he has managed to shut out the face of the giant from his windows. But the giant is there, nevertheless.”

Wallace Stevens, notebook entry, 1904 (courtesy of Paul Moravec)