The Angel in the Stone

Sean and I are working around the clock in anticipation of December 28th. This is our deadline to submit our documentary about Joey, the charismatic driver of the rich and famous, to the Tribeca film festival. Editing is an intense process, which has meant forgoing previously anticipated events like seeing David Byrne ( Talking Heads ) talk about the impact of the digital age on music. But it’s a small price to pay, we are sparking with creative energy and finding inspiration in our own music. Australian composer Matteo Zingales is writing the score for us ( as he did for The Hunter ) and piece by piece we are finding the angel in the stone.

Of course Christmas is also on a deadline, and there was much proof of this at the markets yesterday morning. Wreaths and trees were in abundance – there was green everywhere – a bonus of colour and fragrance to decorate apartments of all sizes. In fact the whole of NYC smells of pine, with netted Christmas trees stacked in makeshift outlets on street corners around the town – like sidewalk forests, glittering with coloured lights and anticipation. I love this time of the year.

The Santa Lucia festival is usually celebrated on December 13th – a Nordic Christmas tradition based on light overcoming the darkness. But I was lucky to spontaneously share an early observance on Friday, when the candles were lit and the songs were sung at Scandinavia House on Park Avenue. There is much to celebrate this year – as always, and while I don’t plan on wearing a headdress of burning candles, I will be happy for the enlightenment. 19 days to go…!

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Gotham glows

Christopher Nolan has written and directed some very imaginative films, including the Batman trilogy, the Prestige, Insomnia and Inception. So when we went to see him talk about behind-the-scenes aspects of Batman, I was surprised to find he was so conservative in dress and in manner. He seemed almost bored – maybe there is so much going on in his head that he has to keep a cool countenance just to be focused. He is English as well – that accounts for keeping calm and carrying on. But while I didn’t find him inspiring, he did make some interesting comments. He talked about casting Heath Ledger for the role of the Joker, and how Heath originally turned the part down. It was only when he was allowed to put his own vision of craziness in the role that Heath became interested, and of course won an Academy Award for it. Nolan also talked about a scene where Heath and Batman were sparring and where the footage was slightly out of focus. But when they tried to recapture the emotion of the scene with another take, it just didn’t have the same magic. So the final cut was slightly fuzzy. I feel so vindicated!

Emerging into Gotham after the event, it was so cold we jumped into a cab for a comfortable ride home. But when Columbus Circle was blocked by a bus and taxi collision, the driver assumed batmobile capabilities and overrode the curb. So we were flying high – until we hit 5th Avenue, where the Rockefeller Center was barricaded bumper to bumper for the lighting of the Christmas tree. What luck to have a caped cabby! He managed to wrangle position just at that electric moment when the crowd said ‘Ahhhhhhh!!!!!’ and there we were, in full view of the most magnificent glowing Christmas tree in the city.

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Gramercy Tavern

The Gramercy Tavern is still my favorite restaurant in NYC. It has been our special celebration spot for years, but I thought I really should try something different for Sean’s birthday this year. Big mistake! If I went against my practice of only writing about the good places we find, there would be some colorful language here about an appalling eatery under the stewardship of Tom Colicchio. The only good thing about it was that it was in walking distance of the Gramercy Tavern, where we were welcomed back with open arms. They take so much pride in their service, and their seasonal displays are works of art. Not only did the birthday boy received a complimentary glass of pop and a very superior chocolate dessert, but the staff came out to show just how much they’d missed us. How could we ever go anywhere else?!

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Macy’s Parade

What a spectacular day for a parade! I rode the long way round through Central Park and was rewarded first with the sunshine and then with the breathtaking excitement of children working their way to the best vantage point. Bleachers would have been packed from an early hour, but the huge ‘balloons’ could be seen for miles, so there were squeals of delight from across the park as superheros floated into view. This could only mean one thing – Father Christmas was not far behind…

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Happy Thanksgiving!

It is a glorious day here in NYC and Thanksgiving is in the air. This is the busiest travel day of the year in the US, as everyone scrambles to get where they need to be. Lucky for me I have a bike, and my family is safely out of the path of bushfires in Port Lincoln. So I needed only to get to the markets today and what a feast there was. If the sheer volume of pies didn’t astonish you the colour of fresh produce did. Red cranberries, purple cauliflowers and black potatoes caught the sun next to orange squash and blue pumpkins. Monster turkeys created last minute envy in those who preordered from the supermarket, strangers chatted to each other about the celebration that would grace their table, and shopping bag philosophy gave us pause…

Many thanks to you all for sharing this fantastic year with me – let’s see what we can do with the next one…!

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Liam Neeson

Last night I discreetly joined a full house of SAG ( screen actors guild ) members to see the film ‘The Grey’ and to meet the director and 2 of the actors – including Liam Neeson. Being without membership, I  felt a bit like a vegetarian at a carnivore’s picnic – a feeling that only grew as the film proceeded. The picture was about a group of men from an Alaskan oil field that survive a plane crash, and then try to survive extreme conditions of cold and snow while being picked off by a fierce pack of wolves.  Not my usual choice of film, and not one that I would have expected to see Mr Neeson act in, but he had an ulterior motive. The character Liam played in the film had recently lost his wife in tragic circumstances and the parallel to his own life when Natasha Richardson died in 2009, gave him an opportunity to work carthartical through the death, the grieving and the subsequent search for meaning. It wasn’t my kind of film, but the personal aspect was so raw, I felt like I had been witness to a very private grief. Liam was playing himself.

When Mr Neeson joined the others on stage afterwards he carried a coffee, which an assistant topped up through the Q&A. He didn’t appear to be 6’4″, spoke quietly without using his microphone, and the stories of the film – shooting in -36*, crew becoming snow blind – were only just balanced with the camaraderie of the actors and some comic moments. Questions from the audience focused mainly on the acting perspective, and others about his personal journey were quickly deflected.

It was a strange but interesting evening and one that I felt lucky to witness. It was an actor talking to actors, and although I was sad to see the spark of the Irishman dimmed, he didn’t get that nose by boxing shy…

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God Jul

I heard about the Swedish Church in New York because of it’s reputation for having the best cinnamon buns in the city. This seemed an unusual claim to fame for a church, but for the Scandis the church is as much a community center as it is a place to pray. The coffee pot is always on but this week the whole place was dressed for the annual Christmas fete, setting the standard of celebration for the season. It was warm and welcoming. Hallowed halls were filled with trading tables of traditional straw horses, mixed bags of sweet and salty licorish, and cute full bearded trolls. Fresh Swedish bread designed to accompany salmon or sausage was on sale next to every variation of cinnamon bun, and the church sanctum was transformed into a busy cafe. Subtle organ music blended into the background as aspirational aromas enriched the body and the spirit – and that was even before we contemplated the glogg. The bottles were a handy purse size – they are usually much larger, and with red wine, dried fruit and spice are a heavenly tipple for the Top end. Or where-ever you may be. One thing, if you take to the glogg before talking to your God, you will still find the Church – just be guided by the nationalistic flags and faucets on 48th and 5th…


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The Frick Collection

I am slightly embarrassed to think I have lived in NYC for nearly 10 years, and it was only on the weekend that I first visited the Frick Museum. I knew of it’s existence, and had occasionally considered their musical soirees and exhibitions, but not enough to encourage my next step towards East 70th and Fifth. What made the difference was the arrival of Van Gogh’s Portrait of a Peasant for a limited viewing. So Sean and I joined the queue on Sunday morning and were pleasantly surprised to find much more than the Dutch master on view.

The fantastic thing about the Frick is that to visit the museum is to visit a private residence, and a very grand one. The public rooms including the library, the dining room and the gallery are splendidly styled after Louise XVI with marble floors, oak paneled walls and gilt moldings. But rather than being ostentatious, it’s more of a refined showcase for the art – everything is about the art. Well, and showing off of course. Apparently Mr Frick was quite determined to make Mr Carnegie’s house down the street look like a shack by comparison. So the minute you walk in you feel you should have worn a cocktail dress because drinks are about to be served. Not to mention trend-setting food – the kitchen below was led by a French chef who set a standard for very superior sup before racing off to fight for his homeland in World War One. Actually I probably wouldn’t have been invited in the day – it seems only men were invited, there were usually 2 dinner parties a week and each was attended by 26 males. No doubt there was serious men’s business to discuss – this was the era of industrialization, making money unscrupulously and avoiding assassination attempts. Frick did all these things, but lucky for us, he not only collected art, but he left it for everyone to enjoy.

The collection of art itself is breathtaking especially when you consider that Mr Frick chose what he liked and then found a place for it on the wall. The Museum has continued this cherry picking since his death. So there is a seaside Monet, a Rembrandt, Degas dancers, Turner, Constable, Picasso, painted wall panels originally commissioned by Madame Pompadour, sculptures and all sorts of treasures. Mr Frick so loved his art that he would have his favorite pieces transported with him to his holiday homes.

What wasn’t on display but is an interesting feature that anyone would be familiar with if they had seen the movie ‘There will be Blood’, is the two lane bowling alley in which Daniel Day Lewis wasn’t very sporting. Similarly the billiard room and the kitchen were off bounds – I will have to join the staff if I want to experience the downstairs quarters. But I will make plans to visit the music room, and I know I could spend many hours enjoying the peaceful inside courtyard, with foliage, fountain and marble meditation. 

No photography was allowed in the museum, so I only have copies to share. If you want the real thing, you’ll have to go the Frick…

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Pumpkin and Pecan

Amy’s Bread on Bleeker Street is a good place to be especially on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays when they bake their cinnamon and raisin twists. But on Saturday after a sunny ride downtown via Washington Square, there was even another reason, pumpkin and pecan bread. Of course it is the season for all things pumpkin – Starbuck’s have latte’s, The Bakery has marsh-mellows, you can even find pumpkin beer… But Amy has the artisanal advantage of being a real almost old-fashioned bakery and you can’t go past this spicy, almost hot-cross-bun tasting alternative. I couldn’t anyway…

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Into the blue

The skies were still blue in NYC this morning – it wasn’t a dream, thanks to the binders full of women! The female lobby pulled out all stops to return a legitimate leader to the White House and even though I couldn’t vote, I know my Grandmother was working the numbers in her celestial sphere…

Leading up to the collective relief of a city in need of good news, was a night of CNN and stairs. The former I was tuned into on my computer and frantically scrolled from Florida to Ohio to New Hampshire to Virginia, back and forth, spirits dipping and diving as the margin swung from almost to not quite. I was counting every vote. In between I ran up the stairs to the roof where the Empire State Building was reflecting the race between red and blue. I was seeing red. There was too much at stake and I really wasn’t ready to move to Canada. Then just before midnight the whoops and yells started. I raced to the roof to see a flourish of blue. Obama was back!

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