Two hands better than one

It's a one man show and a mix of choreography and visual art installation performed live.

Tony Orrico is an accomplished dancer and visual artist who performed the exceptional feat of drawing symmetrical mesh of fine lines on canvas for four hours, three days in a row while standing against the lobby wall of the Dance Workshop Theatre. His back to the audience, with a black pen in each hand he traced an evolving circumference. His arms outstretched on each side in the likeness of Leonardo's classic Vitruvian Man, he drew lines in shades of gray and black symmetrically from the center to form what might be two halves of a brain on a giant canvas.

It is a work of art and a feat of endurance. Part of a series of his drawings called Penwald Drawings this one is entitled Penwald 4: Unison Symmetry Standing.

It's not the same as being there live and watching, but here it is for us to experience.

Watch the livestream of Penwald 4 Unison Symmetry Standing.

Sails and artillery

I'm no sailor by any stretch of the imagination but I felt I had to be there. The TASCAns invited me to their annual picnic by the Lake once again which is a sad reminder that we are nearing the conclusion of the outdoor life here in the East as the Labor Day weekend arrives.

A chain link fence encloses the makeshift boathouse on the other side of the Meadow Lake as the old one is being renovated and won't be open for two years. All of the Club activities and classes still proceed as if nothing is happening and of course that includes the yearly Labor Day blast.


Talk about a dull life, the pot luck lunch is the highlight of my day at the Lake. I safely secured or so I thought, save for those mosquitoes and whatever crawlies there were, a place under the shade for my chair and a book to read. I was hoping that after my fill of barbecued chicken, salad and an assortment of desserts, I could just kick back, relax and enjoy the tranquility of the park. Not so. Two pages into the book and I was so totally distracted by the passers-by.


From cotton candy and kite peddling to quadri-cycling, or simply wandering shirtless in the park, everyone seems to be expending some energy except me. If aging is in your mind, you're so on target. Sometimes I just like to sit around and take it all in.

After dock mastering for a good half hour Marsha and Maria decided to sail. These two have become masters at abandoning their nautical duties with the Club and why not? They too are entitled to have some fun at the high seas (they wish). Yeah sail fast, downwind at twenty knots while I stood behind just people watching.

I'm a glaring contrast to my friends. The extent of my athleticism is pointing at a subject and pressing the shutter button to take some blurry shots and my idea of hiking is grabbing some food as I circle the picnic table. So what do I know about knots? Nothing, except maybe to untangle them? I happen to know a thing or two about weeding or pruning if that counts as a competitive, skillful and entertaining physical activity to you.

The Labor Day festival was capped off with a 7-gun salute that was fired from a yachting cannon. So real, it casted a haze of gun smokes on the dock. Although the picture might suggest otherwise. Sorry Walter, from my vantage point all I could take was your behind.

Walter's toy, a 16-inch reproduction of the Herreshoff Saluting Cannon, boomed out the 7-gun salute. It's made of bronze, rides on a teak carriage, loads and fires 10 gauge blanks. Loud it was that I was told to wear earmuffs as I get closer to the dock. The Russian picnickers were spooked out while Walter's baby twins just slept thru the ritual. It was fun.

Now let's examine this picture more deeply.

Piracy on the high seas! It looks like there's some serious and stern reprimanding going on here. Hey Petra Pan, it's not like there's some crocodiles that got a taste of Hook here that will resurface from this murky lake.

Back off Barbara. No one dies of excessive joie de vivre which Walter possesses. It's a toy for heaven's sake. Who cares if the Russians complained to you about the noise? They were pissed, so what. The cops knew about the gun-firing and if these people can't take a little bit of noise let them go ahead and rally their troops.

Hey Walter, you should've taken Maria's challenge to fire a 21-gun salute instead! That would've been a blast.

Newton's bronze

While Fashion Week is in full swing at its new venue at the Lincoln Center, there is an even greater show going on at the Shelter Rock Art Gallery. The following are sculptures by one of Chong's students in sailing class, Mark Newton. Twenty of these pieces are on display at the gallery.

These works define a prolific artist such as Mark.

Awesome. How else can I describe them?

Convocation IV

Convocation III

Sail

Lovers

Fluid Plurality

(welded steel)

Devotion

What a perfect backdrop - the grounds of the church

Devotion
Mark's Bronze Statement

The Social Hall of the Unitarian Universalist Church where the gallery is housed at Shelter Rock

A view from the outside

Picture windows

Hues of bright orange peeking through the glass blend with the dark green frames and the ivy climbing on the stone walls

Models twirling and looking phenomenal are definitely no match for Mark's sculpture.

Convocation IV retails at $15,000. Wow!

I first encountered his work , another bronze piece entitled Torso, at the Water Mill Museum near the Hamptons last year.

It must be love

The blazing summer day with heat peaking above 90 was enough reason that I almost backed out of my date at the US Open with my nieces. It was not an option. Melissa and Nina would be disappointed. It's not so much that Issa paid a fortune for our tickets which she didn't because she got an unbelievably cheap deal from Fandango, but that Auntie won't be there to take lots of their photos and then blog about their experience.

Nina is in town for a few days en route back home to the Philippines from Ohio. An admitted city girl shopaholic, she badly needed an antidote to her boring two-week business trip to sleepy Cincinnati where a strip mall and the company cafeteria are the best that P&G could offer. In New York, she and Issa paired up shopping all over town and outside too, barely making it to our meeting time at the gate to the Open.

Waiting didn't bother me. I was chatting away with some folks who are in the same predicament as I am. Only difference is that their tickets are in the hands of a friend who's already engrossed watching an ongoing match inside at the Louis Armstrong Stadium. Some friend, I thought, leaving these people out in the cold. I was also busy watching the mass of what could be part of New York's racket-toting preppy population as they march down the flyover from the #7 train all looking very eager to watch top-seeded Nadal and the skillful and glamorous Sharapova in today's first round draw, separately of course.


Camera on one hand bubble tea on the other, here they come. I got my ticket and we all started walking thru the gate. But hey, where's Issa? Right behind us. But what's that she's squirting all over her arms? Oh, the girl was busted. Her aerosol sunscreen can was tossed at the entrance. Better get used to this. Sweet Melissa is known for her nonconformist behavior always trying to sneak in prohibited items thru any security checkpoint and often successfully. How does she do that? Cleverly.

And I stay out of it. Words of wisdom culled out of memories of my youth I try not to offer. If they want advice they can get it from YouTube or their Facebook friends. How do I get along with my young ones? I catch myself before throwing that piece of outdated advice and try to resist saying "when I was young" or "during my time." That seems to work in bridging that pesky generation gap.

After some photo shots, they both charged into the USTA shops. I forgot my hat so I myself was forced to buy one against my will. It was pricey. You could walk in those shops with $1000 in your pocket and come out with but a few coins. Bottled water is $5.50 a pop and don't ask how much we paid for lunch. It was highway robbery.



Under the punishing midday sun we watched in Ashe Stadium the number 3 seed Novak Djokovic's victory over friend and fellow Serbian Viktor Troicki. The grueling match took 3 hours and 40 minutes. Asked how he felt to see the sun disappear, Djokovic's hot analogy was, "It was great. It was like sleeping with my girlfriend." How did I survive that heat you ask? It Must Be Love - love for my sweet nieces. They're half my age, nothing bothers them, not this heat.

The next match was Maria Sharapova against Jamila Groth. At this point I left the kids. They moved further down the stands stealing some other folks' seats and stood there for a long while transfixed at the tall, break- your- neck-when-you-talk-to-her-tall, and gorgeous Sharapova. I love that she stuck with the more sedate tennis outfit that's rarely seen on the courts these days. Hers is something like Coco Chanel could've designed, colors never clashing with the color of the court.

I would learn later that she won the match.

Well, it's time for me to let you loose, kids. It's getting late, I gotta go. I wouldn't be there to thwart your plans of going wild, so can I trust you to behave yourselves? I love you guys but I can't stay.

Bye, bye, enjoy but don't steal the sparkle from Sharapova.

Golfstruck

Partly blocked by a bazooka-length photo lens, I watched Tiger tee off on the first at yesterday's finals at The Barclays. I didn't think that the stellar first round was merely blind luck for this fallen golf icon and yet I wasn't sure if he will come out victorious after last week's announcement that he is now officially single. Whatever mess he got himself into, I'm still rooting for him.

I'm no golf junkie and certainly not big on stats or standings in this sport. I was just there for Tiger and for the scenery as usual, nature walk if you will. Watching him tee off up close and later hit some good shots was enough excitement to last me for a long time.

No, I didn't scour the freebie section of Craigslist for tickets to the Playoffs. Our golf nut friend Pachu called our head nut Chong and offered us free tickets to the tournament. It's not every day that such good luck comes along so she grabbed it and since golf is all about friendship, yeah, yeah, yeah - I tagged along.

For the first time The Barclays tourney is being held at The Ridgewood Country Club in Paramus, New Jersey. Paramus isn't such an appealing draw for me since I've known the place to be just another premium outlet shopping district, but to my surprise it's a most desirable upper class neighborhood.

Well, we found the place after following the lousy signs to General Parking which led us circling the area a couple of times. This time Lady Jane was not to blame. It's a given, it's a curse! You are in New Jersey so you MUST spend half your life looking for whatever it is you're going to.

Chairs in tow, we boarded the shuttle at the Bergen Community College parking lot where I felt cheated having to pay $10 for parking. That's ludicrous. Not even at the US Open at Bethpage did they charge for parking.

When we arrived, lo and behold, Tiger was practicing his putting and every putt either went in or just short of the hole. Awesome. Other players strode by. I was golfstruck! (Does the word even exist?)

After wandering the grounds checking out the 18th hole grandstand and the concessions area of course, I told Pachu and Chong to leave me and just go ahead follow their favorites on the course. I have to stay put. I can't ignore this sciatica flare up and risk being incapacitated for the rest of my non-golfing life, ha. Plus it didn't get out of the 90's and I'm allergic to the sun. It was downright hot.

The two ladies took pity on me and for the most part sat by me as I took shelter under the giant London Plane tree by the 18th hole. Perfect spot. I saw a lot of good shots.

What about that Rickie Fowler with his blinding all-orange gear? He said it's a salute to his school color Okie State U and not an endorsement deal with the Florida citrus folks!

And when Tiger and the other top seeds played, fans stood four or five deep. After they finish there's mass exodus. Tiger did not end up with victory at The Barclays but still proved himself to be right there with the leaders and with a huge following. Matt (Kooch) Kuchar won.

Thanks Pachu. I enjoyed The Barclays watching successful golf, not frustrating golf. I hear enough of that from my golf nut friends!

Promises fulfilled

It's always the same stuff every year, a sleeve of golf balls or sailing gear. Boring.

Rather than take her to the Pro Shop I decided to surprise Chong with a different birthday gift this time. We hopped on the train and headed for Broadway for a matinee show.

A veteran bargain hunter that I am, in case you haven't picked up on that, it took only a few seconds for me to reverse plans as soon as I spotted the TKTS discount booth. Rather than go to the box office and risk depleting my ATM withdrawal allowance for the day, I dragged Chong to the TKTS line. At this time the line-uppers are on the third loop around the block for the 11 am opening. What the heck; at half-off prices I see you have a great pair of legs, if you can drag your golf bag for hours and still sail till dusk, you can do this. I'm treating you and I'm cheap ( a $65 discounted ticket isn't exactly peanuts), so get over it. It's not always best to be the first on line anyway, you won't get the best shows.

It was a toss between Wicked and Billy Elliot. Bummer. The posting didn't include them. And the winner is Promises, Promises at 2 pm.

After a light lunch at John's Pizzeria as we walked towards the theatre, the fancy lobby of Bank of America across the street called out to me like Emma's gimme your tired your poor legs. It's an hour away till curtains up I'm shameless so I grabbed that comfy sofa seat and napped! Surprised? I got news for you - old people take plenty naps!

It was worth the wait.

Promises, Promises is a comedic little time capsule celebration of the 60s and the prevalent sexism in those days. It was a joke fest filled with pure talent and perfect comic timing. Sean Hayes showed a bit of his character Jack in the TV series Will and Grace but in no way did it ruin his exceptional performance. He was at his impeccable comic best.

Katie Finneran rocks as she performed the role of of a woman of loose virtue, the inebriated owl lady Marge MacDougall. She certainly stole the show in the second act, the audience agreed. Her timing was spot-on and that Tony award-winning owl "hoo" was just hilarious. Katie's time on stage was very short but memorable. I would've preferred to see more of her explosive act.

The music of Burt Bacharach/Hal David filled the air with some of my best memories of the 60s. I Say a L'il Prayer. I'll Never Fall in Love Again.

The verdict: this Broadway revival fulfilled its promises and I'm sure Neil Simon will be pleased.

What happened in 1907?

In 1907, Albert Einstein formulated E=mc2, Theodore Roosevelt served his second term, Rudyard Kipling won the Nobel Prize in Literature, the US first transatlantic radio transmission occurred, a loaf of bread cost five cents, eggs cost twenty cents per dozen, the average worker earned $12.98 for a 59-hour week, Ford Model R was first produced and sold for $700. Some of the great inventions include the washing machine, the vacuum cleaner, paper towel, the first canned tuna, color photography but most importantly........ my mother was born!

She shares the same birth year with Katharine Hepburn and Frida Khalo. She possesses some of Katharine's good looks but not quite the talent of Frida to earn herself a Google doodle design. Still looking good for her age, keeping those silver locks immaculate, and always dresses her best for Sunday church.

Again? was the remark of Mao as he was told by his father George to join and celebrate his great grandma's birthday. Yup, all of 103 years and counting. Coming from a good stock of Filipino-Spanish ancestry, she lived to see five generations of her family. Imagine she even outdid my grandmother who lived only till her mid-90s.

And there's no sign of slowing down. Inang's mind is still sharp as a tack. Often asked what her secret is for long life, she has no answer. But I do. She doesn't stuff her face with food, quits eating when she's full. She can survive on veggies and a dinner of rice and milk. Best of all she loves life. She's a fighter and a survivor. But you better watch out, she can be bull-headed.

Nothing big, it was an intimate family celebration. This year is special since my sister is with us and everyone is thrilled with the announcement of a new little addition to the family - Barbara is expecting! Another cute apo for Inang.

It was a very good year 1907.

Beauty they say fades with age but it's hard to argue with genetics. Inang still looks great so maybe there's hope for me, ha..ha..ha..if I even reach 75.