THE WEEK: Nov 7-11.

MONDAY:

Paul McCarthy, The Dwarves, The Forests 
Hauser & Wirth New York is proud to present an exhibition of major new works by Los Angeles-based Paul McCarthy, one of America’s most challenging and influential artists. Comprising bronzes, a massive tour de force wood carving, and a pair of fantastical landscape maquettes all presented on the gallery’s two floors, ‘The Dwarves, The Forests’ is the first exhibition of sculptures to emerge from McCarthy’s recent exploration of the famous 19th century German folk tale Snow White (Schneewittchen) and the modern interpretation of that story in Disney’s beloved 1937 animated classic film ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’

AMRAM & CO @ Cornelia St.
David Amram, piano, french horn, flutes, composition & surprises; Kevin Twigg, drums, glockenspiel; John de Witt, bass; Adam Amram, percussion

With Liberty and Justice for Some: How the Law Is Used To Destroy Equality and Protect the Powerful
OCD Lecture Series
Stress and the Individual Litigant: Managing the Practical and Emotional Aspects of Litigation and Exploring Alternatives Zombies Identified – (Re)Considering the Monster #2
Harmony Holiday & Jared Stanley
Abigail Washburn
Evolving Music #5 – Remembering Raphe Malik
Occupy: Presented by n+1 and Housing Works
FALL DOWNTOWN: SEASON PARTY
Robert Graham
LINDEMANN YOUNG ARTIST DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM
League of Professional Theatre Women 

TUESDAY:

Listen to This by Alex Ross
Listen to This—which collects Alex Ross’ finest writing for The New Yorker since 1994—is that rare book that moves across the entire landscape of music, from classical to rock and back again. In this series of lively, erudite essays, Ross tells of his own late-blooming discovery of pop, and of how contemporary sounds relate to centuries of musical tradition. He vividly sketches canonical composers such as Schubert, Verdi, and Brahms; gives us in-depth interviews with modern pop masters such as Björk and Radiohead; and, in a previously unpublished essay, brilliantly retells hundreds of years of music history—from Renaissance dances to Led Zeppelin—through a few iconic bass lines of celebration and lament. Witty, passionate, and brimming with insight, Listen to Thisshows how music expresses the full complexity of the human condition.

The Moth StorySLAM. Theme: Warning Signs
Global Capitalism: A Monthly Update & DiscussionKIRSTIN KAPUSTIK, AMANDA HINCHEY, ALISA FENDLEY, MARI MEADE MONTOYA & FRANCINE ELIZABETH OTT
DANA SCHUTZ “If the Face Had Wheels” book signing and discussion with Barry Schwabsky
Rescue Me!
Balzac’s Omelette
Lonely Dear
CAN MOTHERS STOP TERRORISM?
ICONOMANCY

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Drum School (Part 3) by Erik Svehaug.

()

Life is short, and Art long;

The crisis fleeting;

Experience perilous and

Decision difficult.

Hippocrates, Aphorisms

()

Lucius spoke to Marsyas:  “The Red Galley was at Full Stroke, four lengths off the dock.”

Marsyas nodded.  He turned to the Supplicant.  “How did they know about the challenge?” and he waited, like a cat crouched at the mouth of a gopher’s tunnel.

The Supplicant stared in front of him, trembling.  My bench mates moaned and cried for help.

“Stand up,” said Marsyas.

Involuntarily, the Supplicant rose and said: “You can’t touch…”

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Drum School (Part 2) by Erik Svehaug.

(                    )

In elegant robes, my mother floats

Through the gardens thick and fragrant;

Strong lines of care carve my father’s face

As he scratches for our fortune.

(                    )

Once, during a rest, as we ate some bland slop and tossed a skin of water back and forth, I noticed our Drummer eying me.  I was feeling briefly light-hearted as I watched the swift movement of the water skin above the heads of the crew.  It was our game:  the unwary would catch the goat skin in the side of the head.  The old man stared at me across his meal of soft bread and small fish.  He had apparently noticed my feet tap a song that had been running through my head, a song of childhood.  He smiled.

“Whap!”

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Drum School (Part 1) by Erik Svehaug.


The drum gives me Now; and its silence Then.

Keep the beat and my soul will mend.


My father was a smith.  We lived in tiny Dodona in a house behind the forge.  We lived with the beat of hammer and anvil, and the longer pulse of heating and cooling.  Poor, we embraced the rhythms of starving awhile until we were no longer as hungry, of collapsing exhausted until we were merely tired.    My mother foraged meals from thin air and I worked at the fire from a tender age.

Father made a living selling pins, hasps and latches for a few lepta each.  He taught me how to repair broken tools.  Craning past his massive arm, I watched him steadily beat the ripple pattern of circles on a copper sheet until it became a shapely pot, worthy of Hephaestus, whose hammer icon hung in the forge.

His master was a Guild smith, who died before father could be Journeyed.  Father’s craft sprang from glimpses of techniques he was never taught, leveraged into what he needed to know.

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