The Firebird

Memories: when I was an undergraduate I would cruise the sale bins at record stores (Record stores! Philip Glass, who I will sort of meet again tomorrow night, was the son of a record store owner in Baltimore. We bought and played LPs then! L'ancien régime.) looking for new musical experiences. I remember buying a box set of the three early Stravinsky ballets. The Firebird was accessible yet invigorating. Petroushka was a stretch. The Rite of Spring was impenetrable, not the pinnacle of art I hear it as today. 

The association came from a work in the summer show at the Missouri Botannical Garden, Garden of Glass. (Mulit-level, no?) It features the work of artist James Mitchell Smith, mostly on display in the Climatron, mentioned in Tuesday's post. It is best seen illuminated by colored lights at night as here. Unlike a lot of art glass, the pieces are fused, not blown. How else could these feathers be created?

All contemporary art glass is inevitably compared to the work of Dale Chihuly. Several pieces of his work are scattered around the garden on permanent display. Once, while chatting with an artist friend, the subject of Chihuly came up. I asked the artist's opinion. "Too easy," he answered. I get it.

Big weekend on tap. We're taking Madeleine on her first trip up the Arch this afternoon. Tomorrow night Opera Theatre of St. Louis presents the American premier of Philip Glass' opera The Trial, based on the Kafka novel. The composer will be in attendance and there is an open reception afterward. I'm planning on bringing a small camera.