The House that Blues Built

Sometimes I forget how important music is. Besides a commute, it can be difficult to find the time for it. And despite the fact that it makes things like doing dishes, folding laundry, and cleaning the apartment more pleasant, I forget to put it on. All. The. Time.

But honestly, is there anything that Ray Charles, Amy Winehouse, and B.B. King can't make easier? No, there really isn't. Like the powers granted to super heroes through such bizarre instances as being bitten by a radioactive spider or getting trapped in a gamma explosion, good music can make light work of anything. Put on an excellent playlist and run a marathon. Play Taylor Swift and get over a breakup. See what I mean? Super powers. Of course there is more to it than that, but finding the right inspiration -- and one that can get stuck in your head and help you battle back against any obstacles, at that -- is an excellent first step.

So where is the best place to get this experience in Boston? The House of Blues, of course. Even in a packed house with a standing room only ticket, everyone gets a great view. Actually, standing room only is, to me, a richer experience than sitting in this particular venue. And though I am not an expert in anything acoustical, I think the House of Blues sounds good from every location I have stood in. Maybe this just means it's loud, but in all locations and in all ways, I have always been very pleased by the sound.

Last week, my fiancee and I saw Matt Kearney at the House of Blues. On tour to promote the release of his new album Just Kids, Kearney's show was a sell-out. It was also spectacular -- drawing on the right balance of known hits and newer releases. If you are a fan of his, I would recommend his new CD, and if you haven't heard of him, why not give it a try?

The building itself, though, is a mainstay of Landsdowne Street. Clearly the street's primary and most well-known occupant is Fenway Park, but it is a testament to the House of Blues that Landsdowne would be greatly lessened in character and culture if ever B.B. King's venture were to move. The decorations, details, and adornments within create the same sense of cultural mix and clash that the venue experiences weekly with the variety of music and sound it hosts. In the same way that Fenway Park brings everyone together in one Red Sox uniform, the House of Blues hosts people whose love falls under the banner term of music, but it is a venue wholly without uniform. Fenway and the House of Blues are two sides of the same coin. And, not coincidentally, they are the two sides of Landsdowne. 

Til next time!

Much Adieu About Really Important Things

Much has been said about the recent anniversary of the Isabella Stewart Gardner heist. Trimming all of the developments, investigations, and news stories down into one skeleton of a sentence is not an easy thing to do, but here is the gist: Twenty-five years ago, in 1990, thieves disguised as police officers entered the museum, bound the guards, and stole works by some of The Greats: Manet, Rembrandt, and Degas. And they still haven't been returned.

Art such as the pieces housed in museums -- the Isabella Stewart Gardner chief among them -- are cultural property. What would a lesson on the Renaissance be without its artists? What would the world's history look like before the invention of the camera? And, most importantly, if our shared experience of time and place isn't safe behind the thick, stone walls of a museum, then where is it safe?

In The Judgement of Paris, Ross King makes a compelling argument that the history of a European middle class cannot be separated from the rise of Impressionism. And a recent exhibit on Impressionism at the Museum of Fine Arts made it clear that the city of Boston was deeply moved by the rise of the Impressionist art movement. That pieces have been stolen from the Gardner Museum and not seen again is a crime against more people than just the museum's management.

But all of this has been said before, and all of it has been stated more skillfully by better writers. So allow me to direct you to them; I will even arrange it all by cost of entry.

For free, you can read about the anniversary of the theft in this retrospective from The New York Times. Written by Tom Mashburg, a former investigator on the case, it is a good summary of events, but also a genuine reflection on the search for the missing art. Also, the museum itself has put together a great website in partnership with Google Art Project that is very informative. Find it here.

For under ten dollars (on Kindle or the Kindle App), you can read The Gardner Heist: The True Story of the World's Largest Unsolved Art Theft by Ulrich Boser. Or, if you prefer a fictionalized account, you can read The Art Forger: A Novel by B. A. Shapiro.

If you would prefer the latest release, Stephen Kurkjian recently wrote Master Thieves: The Boston Gangsters Who Pulled off the World's Greatest Art Heist. It has a list price of $26, and is even available as a signed copy at the Harvard Book Store in Harvard Square, Cambridge.

And, of course, you could just visit the museum itself. Find all of the necessary information on their website.

Til next time!

Another Set of Panoramas

Well... as described. Have a look-see at another set of Boston panoramas.

Commonwealth Avenue

Public Garden

Til next time!

Panoramas

Truth be told, I was seriously considering titling this post with some kind of pun about the song "Paradise City" by Guns'n'Roses. That is, until I realized that "Panorama City" is, in all likelihood, a joke that has been made countless times in photography circles. And -- add it to the list, I guess -- I don't even like that song.

Without further adieu, here are the aforementioned not-associated-with-Guns'n'Roses pictures of Panorama City. Or, in this case, Boston.

Til next time!

Maya on Exhibit

Though the Museum of Science has been closed off-and-on due to the blizzard conditions (the fourth in four weeks... not bitter... not at all), it has a climatologically-distinct exhibit currently on view. If, amid these swirls of snow and whiplashes of cold air, you have found yourself dreaming of the Yucatan, then you are in luck.

I guess what I'm saying is that if you are interested in utterly immersing yourself in a time and place as far away from the Northeast in 2015, then you'd be hard-pressed to find a better opportunity than the Maya's classical period. And if it can make you forget about this snowy Boston February, even for a little while, then why not?

There are better reasons, though, than forgetting the weather. Remembering and understanding that the Americas were once dominated by non-Europeans is important, and equally so, that civilizations native to this continent were complex, advanced, and sophisticated beyond what our grade school (even high school) textbooks intimated is, too. This is an enlightening, engaging experience that challenges commonly held assumptions and patterns of belief regarding the rich heritage of this nation and the others with whom we share the continent.

For example, it is largely understood that Mayans were one of the few civilizations to have developed the concept of the zero. But, did you ever ask - did they use the zero the same way we do with our Arabic numerals? The answer will surprise you. Using a zero in a number with Mayan numerals has an exponential effect that is not proportionate to the mathematical system we use of tens, hundreds, thousands, etc. I am not enough of a mathematician to say this with authority, but I would have to conclude, then, that this challenges the idea of math as some sort of universal language - at the very least to the point that we may say it has "regional dialects." Brain-rattling, right?

There is, however, a lot of math that is lost on me. History and mythology, on the other hand, are languages I understand a bit more readily. That said, the special exhibit itself seems more geared towards a younger crowd, so if you have kids, they will get quite a bit out of it. There are stations where you can print a Mayan name or bookmark in hieroglyphs, create architecture, decipher a wall painting, etc. Though informative and interactive, it seemed a bit shorter than previous exhibits that used the same space. 

The real star of the show was the planetarium presentation. (The omni show, like others that have been featured, will likely arrive on Netflix at some point, and was not remastered for a curved IMAX screen - human beings and straight lines were quite susceptible to distortion.) Tales of the Maya Skies, however, was a fantastic, original presentation that was well worth the price of admission. Something that it did particularly well was its representation of mythology overlaid onto Mayan architecture. For example, in one segment it explained how Mayan step pyramids were constructed so that the shadow of the pyramid's zigzagged corner would be cast on the large stone "railing" beside its central staircase. As the sun went down, this zigzag would shift, waffle, and wave. Because the base of the staircase's railing was a giant carved serpent's head, this created the appearance of the serpent slithering down the pyramid, literally descending from the heavens. (You can see the reality of this process on YouTube here; the planetarium shows more of a "mind's-eye" experience of it.) It was a fascinating and welcome take on how architecture can be modeled on mythology and used to create a magical, meaningful experience of it.

As far as special exhibits go, I would highly recommend this one. One of the joys of living in Boston is the way in which our museums go to great lengths to inform and educate us. Particularly in history and culture, the Museum of Fine Arts and the Museum of Science have created fantastic opportunities like these. It is very nice to see that tradition continue. Kudos to the Museum of Science for creating not just a fully immersive Mayan environment to explore, but also the excellent Tales of the Maya Skies. Stop in while you still can!

Til next time!

A Really Good Deal

This is not the world's biggest secret, but it is good information to know (especially if your back is aching from all of the shoveling that the past three weeks have required): When a parking ban is declared by the mayor in Boston, parking garages throw open their bay doors to residents. And this is the best part -- it is for a reduced rate.

The best accommodation that I have encountered in the past few years is the parking at the Landmark Center in Fenway [Brookline Street]. For a mere $5 a day, you can avoid an extended shovel-out session for each storm. I avoided this past storm for a three day stay at the Landmark, saving almost $100 off the regular rate! All you have to do is show proof of residence. To find restricted streets and reduced-rate parking, head over to the city's page.

Having been on both sides of the dilemma, I would certainly recommend cracking out the wallet rather than the shovel -- especially with this winter's brutal storms.

Til next time!

So. Much. Snow.

At this point, I think it is something like day 17 of Snowmageddon. I am not completely sure; I just know that it has been snowing, and it has been snowing for a long, long time. And at this point, I don't even know what the full local impact is. Buses are delayed, trains are not running, some cars will be unrecoverable until May, and many two lane roads have been halved, causing large (but not uncomfortable) delays due to the typically patient New England turn-taking approach to sharing one lane on a two way road. Har har.

In a few weeks, we will hear from the various news outlets that this surge of storms cost X amount of dollars, Y number of hours of overtime, and Z amount in lost profit for local businesses.

It's that Z that is the most troubling, I think. We all know someone with a tie to a local business, and we have probably all seen the various ups and downs of its ownership. If you are lucky enough to work from home or have a snow day, it might be worth it, then, to boot up, parka up, scarf up -- whatever it takes -- to brave the great outdoors for a block or two. Get a cuppa from a nearby coffee shop. Have a pastry from a close-by bakery. Grab a slice from the local pizza joint. You'll probably enjoy a little bit of fresh air, anyways. It hasn't been easy being so cooped up!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying move mountains; if walking outside in this weather is reasonably safe, comfortable, and seems genuinely pleasant, then go for it! And remember, common sense and directives from the mayor and governor supersede any recommendation that I might make.

If you are stuck inside, then try to make the most of it. Start up that Netflix, enjoy whichever locally-sourced treat you may have picked up, and spend some time resting your feet on the couch (you work hard!). If you're feeling a bit inspired, make some art, read a new book, or call a family member you haven't spoken to in a while. Or, if time has gotten away from you in the post-Christmas season, catch up on some cleaning.

Just because it's Snowmageddon outside doesn't mean it has be a lost day inside.

But don't forget about those things you may have left out. ;)

Til next time!