Thursday, February 24, 2011

Art - Theatre

I love the way John Lithgow began his recent one man show at the Taper. He looked at the audience and said what are you all here for? All you eager faces out there? What are you doing here? You want to be told a story. And he went on to tell how his favorite P. G. Wodehouse story revived his ancient father when he went back to help the old man who had become so ill. He began to read him his favorite story and then he acted out all the characters for us, there on the stage.
Touching. Immediate. Bigger than life, yet simple and real.
Such good theatre happening in LA now. Last weekend it was Jane Fonda in 33 Variations. Wow, the precision of the acting, the inventive set and the words that flowed through me and made me think, which is what the theatre is for..thinking, feeling, all the colors of life

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Food as ART, Campanile Restaurant

 Campanile, still as good as it gets.
Located in a sunlit Italian-style building built for Charlie Chaplin in the 1920's, it is a Hollywood landmark. Chef Mark Peel is right there watching over things, creating remarkable and innovative dishes. The lights are on and he is home.
From the bibb lettuce salad to the prime rib, which of course I cannot eat because the cholesterol is waaaaaay out there, so I eat the sauteed trenne with bolognese sauce & peacock kale & shaved parmesan. A bottle of red wine, of course. Dessert? Flourless chocolate cake, can't eat that either, but I do, I have to live. Ok, so when I die and go to the heaven that is MY heaven, I want to go to Claridge's, and eat the food that is from Campanile......AND Gino, and sleep on Anichini linens, and read the great fiction of the world, beginning with Proust, makes sense, I'm in bed, and it's MY heaven. Turner Classic Movies has to be on the flat screen with Bette Davis or Humphrey Bogart which I watch in my pegnoir set. Ah, heaven.

Monday, February 7, 2011

my LA

Here we are, driving the streets, with funny little things that appear. Cash cows, tiny cars, and the rhythm of a city that constantly moves east to west, north to south, and the tires are blowing and the hum of the motors is going, and whatever car you are driving is being torn up by the pot holes on Wilshire Blvd., constantly. Ever think about the dirt that accumulates in your house from all these cars?

Still....I love LA.