When I started my nearly 50 mile journey downtown this afternoon, my intent was to see the Matisse special exhibition at the Art Institute. Unfortunately, just as on my first attempt to visit the Shedd Aquarium, the exhibit along with the entire new modern wing (which I have never seen) was closed for a private event. Over two years ago, I saw the older part of the museum. While it is quite fine, I did not want to pay admission without seeing the Matisse works.
Instead, I walked around downtown Chicago yet again. My roommate was right when she told me I would regret not taking my camera. While I wandered around the spectacular Millennium Park, I was sorely wishing I had it with me. Night had not yet fallen and I could have easily gotten some spectacular shots without a tripod. When darkness came, I still felt quite safe. The Loop is generally considered safe even after dark. Besides, there were people around.
I have got to point out that it is easy to get terrific photos in Chicago. The place is so photogenic. It's often rated as having one of the best skylines in the world.
The park was filled with gorgeous spring flowers and flowering trees. The lakeside area is often cooler in Spring than the more inland area where I live. Here, some of the plant types blooming downtown are already fading.
Yet some tender plants had already reached 18 inches in height. There was one flower I could not identify, which bothered me a little. I think it was a late blooming Helleborus species. It at least superficially looked like one and had a Ranunculus family type flower. Just like buttercups. But I may be wrong here. It has been too many years since I studied the anatomy of flowers.
The beds were ablaze with tulips, daffodils and narcissus blossoms. The park is filled with unusual and fascinating modern sculptures, following the tradition in Chicago for vibrant public spaces. I did not want to leave, but nature was starting to call.
I knew I should return to the car so I could get back on the Kennedy expressway, a non-toll section of I-90 that switches to a toll route near O'Hare airport. Soon after entering the expressway, there was a sign noting that the drive to O'Hare was 20 minutes. I thanked God because on I-90, near O'Hare, is the Des Plaines Oasis. Restrooms!
When I see signs for Des Plaines, I am reminded of the long ago show "Fantasy Island." The side kick to Ricardo Montalban always opened the show with "the plane, boss, the plane!"
How appropriate that Des Plaines should be near O'Hare.
At the first toll plaza, I was tempted to take the side detour to the cash toll plaza. Just to have someone smile at me and say "have a good evening, ma'am." I've had the very cool I-Pass for at least a month now, so I can proceed through the overhead detectors without having to slow down. Given the urgency of my bladder situation, I opted to forego manual payment.
On much of the trip, in both directions, I was listening to Beethoven's Missa Solemnis. I am not a huge fan of Ludwig's choral writing, at least not when I compare his sung works to those of Brahms. Johannes was a master writer of songs and his large choral work, Ein Deutsches Requiem has extremely fine choral writing. I keep in mind that Beethoven was deaf when he wrote this transcendent piece.
Beethoven's monumental mass is wonderfully moving and I felt like I was transported, almost, to another dimension. I got so close to extra-dimensional travel that I needed to rein things in. I was driving, after all
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I also find the very difficult choral sections finely written and appreciate them more than those in the last movement of the Ninth Symphony. There are certainly recognizable traces of the slightly later symphony in the mass, though.
All of this music made me realize how much I miss my piano. When I practice, especially for several hours, I start to get my own original musical ideas. When I play the piano or pipe organ, I am part of the artistic process. I simply don't get quite the same result when listening to music. I try, though.
In part because I am considering taking up again something I have wanted to do for many years. That is, compose my own music. I have dabbled in this over the years and have arranged some of the hymns I have played in church.
This longing to create is, perhaps, one of the curses of being a Myers Briggs type INFP. Although I am much less of an introvert than before I transitioned nearly two years ago. INFP's typically seek to be 'their truest selves.' Indeed, this can become an unattainable life goal. To 'be' completely and totally express every aspect of one's being. By transitioning, I've certainly gone a long way along that path!
Anyway, curse or obsessive compulsive disorder
, I was listening to the music with an intense concentration, trying to pick apart the construction of Beethoven's mass. Particularly the Credo third movement and especially the lead in to the Et incarnatus est section. I have the orchestral scores for a few symphonies and I would love to have the score for this work.
The music leading up to this is quite energetic and loudly exhuberant. It ends fairly abruptly on an unresolved chord, followed by one or more flutes alone left holding a single note before 'and is made flesh' begins very quietly and with exquisite beauty. I suspect it is a solo flute that leads into this section because it is barely discernible.
This extended rambling may be the result of that coffee I had late this afternoon.
Anyway, I long for an outlet for my creative energies. There was a time when I could play passably well Beethoven's last piano sonata (#32). I cannot pretend that I ever had this wonderful piece of art ready for a recital, but I could play through it with energy and sensitivity.
Then there is his piano sonata #30, my absolute favorite. It is easier than #32 but still quite difficult. I first heard this performed by the late, great Beethoven interpreter Ruldolph Serkin at Carnegie Hall in New York City. I was blown away by the performance.
I gave my first organ recital at an Episcopal cathedral in upstate New York. Several members of the church choir I directed, and where I was also the organist, attended. This experience was a high point of my life. I had practiced for several months and I pulled off the recital, on a four manual pipe organ, without a hitch. Including a difficult Bach chorale prelude.
Through all this writing, I am sharing more of what it means to be me. That is all.
In other matters, I did not run into 't' in the dating chat room. Perhaps tomorrow night!
