Even in a week where there isn't a whole lot to report, there is always
time for art. I slipped out in the middle of my workday Thursday to
visit the Andrea
Schwartz Gallery again, to look at Philip Buller's paintings. It took
a moment to take a breath and allow the work to start growing on me, as
it seemed a little too corporate-office for me at first. However, as I
stood in front of the largest painting in the gallery it suddenly clicked
into place for me, the patches of bright orange, warm torchlight
reminiscent of Rembrandt's light sources at the same time that the
smeared canvas called Richter to mind. Buller's figures are almost
certainly medieval, and a few of them might even be angelic. They stand
just beyond reach, serene and composed.
It was a gorgeous day on Saturday as I made my way to Crissy Field to see
my mom model old Pan Am stewardess uniforms as part of the park's
celebration of 100 years of flight. If I look half as good as Mom does
at that age, I'm going to be a very happy woman. I don't know if it
could possibly be as much fun to fly now as it was when my mom did. I
love hearing her stories, and I grew up in a house filled with booty she
procured (legally and no) from around the world. And then there's the
sporty red Volkswagen Notchback that she shipped over from Germany,
perfect for zooming around San Francisco as a single girl (her, not me).
But I digress. When I wasn't watching my mom kick ass on the catwalk I
was checking out the replica of the Wright Brothers flyer and the old
photos from the heyday of Crissy Field and the vintage advertising
posters and watching the classic planes do flyovers overhead. All in all
it was way cooler than Fleet Week.
Later that evening I popped in High and Low, a black-and-white
Japanese film I knew absolutely nothing about but which soon had me
firmly in its grip as it told the story of a kidnapping and the subsequent
investigation. Hollywood does movies with the same basic plot points all
the time, but they're usually half as long and not nearly as good. All
the way through I kept thinking, my goodness this is so beautifully
directed, I must find out who did it! The director? Kurosawa. The lead
actor? My love, Toshiro Mifune, who I didn't recognize out of a topknot.
Boy did I feel like a dork.