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Birmingham – The City of 2009?

Liverpool has been the European capital of culture in 2008. But astrologically, the year 2008 was the year of Rat. I never actually checked if any world city has had a rat as its symbol. Having visited Birmingham recently for the first time, and seen this lovely sculpture at the Bull Ring Shopping Centre, I think I have found my symbol (and definitely a city to come back to) for the year ahead.

You see, back in Russia I have got a collection of soft toys, all in the guise of one or another character of the Chinese calendar. There is a pretty pair of Sheep, a faithfully looking Dog, an impressively pinky Pig, and a very old and blind Lion, among others (the Lion is the same age as me, and has lost both his green eyes to the Time).

I don’t have this collection with me now, and generally I have done well without it all this time. However, 2008 being a lean year and not entirely enjoyable one for me, I am hoping to brace myself well for 2009 with the help of this ox that looks very determined. Instead of drinking potions offered by MacCartney and Jackson in their famous video, I will look at this photo in the hope that the sculpture will give me “the strength of a raging bull”.

…I can just hear Sir Paul pronouncing “the strength of a raging bull” in that video. What? You don’t know which one?? Oh don’t say, say, say!..

Slava Polunin: The Monologue of a Clown – 4: Theatre

Theatre

Sometimes they ask me, if I would like to talk on stage. It’s too late now. At one time I realized that life possesses some fascinating mysteries that you cannot express in words. There is much more I can say without words. There are plenty of artists besides me whose inspiration is Gogol, and they are in perfect command of these techniques. Why should I concur with them when I can embrace that part of life which is no less impressive and which will remain unknown without me?

Generally speaking, I do not like modern dramatic theatre, there is little joy I get from it. That’s why I try to visit it as seldom as possible. That kind of acting does not possess you, it doesn’t flow over the footlights. It tickles, yeah, but it doesn’t inspire. I wonder why, but it seems the modern drama theatre still walks on one leg. For some reason Meyerhold, Tairov, Evreinov, Radlov, the stage reformers of the 20s, had so quickly realized those magnificent opportunities of plastic art and began using them. Meanwhile, today’s directors just spit on it.

At the Theatre Olympics I haven’t seen a lot, due to a lack of time. But there were some things that I liked very much. The Zingaro’s Horse Circus, e.g. It wasn’t the best performance of Bartabas, its director, but generally he is a great horse trainer, and his feeling for the horses is fantastic. The Streller’s Harlequin is a great play, and I liked it although I’ve seen it before. The Dreamplay by Wilson is an example of visual performance that I love to bits. Sure, maybe, Wilson is a director for directors. Yeah, sometimes he is boring, dull, but he went so far that it inspires. I learn a lot from his performances: careful attention to the light, the minutiae, the change of colours, the objects’ rhythm… His artistic world for me is a feast of ideas.
May one say that modern dramatic theatre is surviving crisis? I know not. It only seems to me that the dramatic theatre forgot where it had begun. The stage directors have desperately crippled upwards and eventually lost their base. They were possessed with the analysis of a synchrophazotron, but they forgot about the theatrical spirit. I would love to try and turn everything back to the beginning, where the magic of theatre and the aesthetics of it were the one, where the theatrical ritual conjoined us to the Space, to Time, to our destiny, to our contemporaries and predecessors. The moment of truth had importance not as itself, but as a touch to Infinity. What about the dramatic theatre then? – It has to wait for a caravan that walks behind. It is a wrong situation when the audience doesn’t understand the language of director. This language must be readable, at least in some respect. A spectator comes to the theatre, where he is to undertake a certain voyage during the play. The task of the director is to prepare him and to give him all he needs for this trip: a bag, a stick, and details of where to go. And only after that can the director take the spectator to the woods, saying: “You’ve got to search for it somewhere there”. And then he’ll be doing it on his own. But he won’t do so otherwise; instead he’ll let the grass grow under his feet.

Translated from Russian by Julia Shuvalova.

 

A Tiramisu Expert, or A Dinner at Villagio

Villaggio - Tiramisu Yes, I think I am becoming a tiramisu expert. I love this dessert so much that whenever I visit an Italian restaurant I order it. And even if I am tempted to order something else, I still see myself ordering a tiramisu. Why? Why does Art influence us? Nobody can explain, and such is also the mystery of tiramisu. To be indulgent and delicious, it has to awaken the sublest senses of your tongue, it has to please the eye, and above all, it has to melt in your mouth, leaving you wanting more. Having once had two tiramisus, I now try to bridle my seemingly well-developed gastronomic faculties. But nothing can stop us from enjoying Art, especially when it is the art of making a perfect tiramisu.

I have just found out, in fact, that tiramisu as a “standard” recipe is not too old, and it may even be younger than yours truly. The Washington Post 2007 article on the trail of tiramisu tries to age the recipe by dating it back to the First World War, but the Italian authors claim that the first documented mentions of this recipe appear possibly in the 1970s, but most probably already in the 1980s. At any rate, the story of this layered cake still seems to be in the making, and the good testimony to that are the numerous reverberations on the standard recipe theme. There is a traditional recipe from Heston Blumenthal @ The Times Online; then there is a Lemon Tiramisu from the BBC Recipes… and then is a Beeramisu, an intriguing twist on the traditional recipe, found at 101 Cookbooks. If you want to know my opinion, I’d go with Beeramisu: not only is it still quite new, but there is also a good chance to try and use some of those continental beers that you can buy at a Christmas Market. So, instead of drinking those beers from plastic glasses in the cold, see if you can buy enough to cook a beeramisu at home.

And… back to our sheep. Villaggio, the Italian restaurant in Manchester’s Canal Street, has long been recommended to me as a good place to eat, but I have only very recently visited it – to my great pleasure. Thanks to the regular clientele, the restaurant is getting by even during the credit crunch, although like many other venues in the Gay Village it has felt the impact. The good news is that the crunch did not seem to have impacted the quality of food. The food (without drinks, but including a dessert) is likely to be about £20, to which you can add a glass or a bottle of wine, and a liquer coffee. I will not go into more detail on what I had at Villaggio, because you can see and read short descriptions from the menu in Villaggio’s Flickr set. The venue is located on two floors, and on the ground floor you are to be seated either in a compact bar area, or in a trendy lounge, entertained by modern music and colour lighting.

Most importanly, I had a delicious tiramisu there. With a brandy coffee. Recommended.

 

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