I was going to write “that was easy,” but realised that while it was “easy,” it wasn’t easy. “Clean” more appropriately describes the procedure: surgical, “that’s it, then,” as they put it. I just deleted my flickr account.
Now I’m off to the theatre. Am going to see something called [storm], by battery opera of Vancouver. It had a terrible review in the today’s local paper, but then a friend of mine insists that this reviewer knows nothing of dance. We’ll see.
Oh well.
PS/Update, March 15/07: Alas, Grania Litwin’s review (see above) of [storm] was only too accurate. It was not a compelling experience. I thought the choreography was best during the “aikido” sequence, which really didn’t involve dance as much as it involved copying the moves of an ancient martial art. The rest of it was repetitive, and I kept wondering how it was supposed to resonate with, or amplify, either the accompanying music (sea shanties, for the most part, accompanied by an amplifed saxophone fixated on the basso range) or the narrated bits. “Narrated” is actually the wrong word entirely — spoken text, perhaps, conveys it better, as the emphasis was on surrealistic juxtaposition of specific anecdote with universal meaning and complexity. (You know, surely! Don’t we all vaguely recall some old canard about surrealism as the meeting of an umbrella and a …what was the other thing?, on a sewing machine? Well, yeah, something like that…) The whole thing was thin, but really pretentious.
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