Nimble Tread

Back in Time

I made my way over to the V&A yesterday for a workshop in Wet Plate Collodion photography conducted by the legendary (in certain circles) couple, France (Scully) and Mark Osterman.  It was a supremely interesting day, and I came away from it with a tin-type portrait of yours truly and the intention of taking up yet another time consuming pursuit.  It's amazing what a little ether, alcohol, silver nitrate, and cyanide will produce, and at some point I'll get around to starting the process and scanning some of the results.  In the meantime, why not pay a visit to the Osterman's website and, if you can, sign up for one of their workshops.  You'll learn a lot, no doubt about it.  If you'd like to pique your curiosity a bit, have a look at the documentary made about Sally Mann and her take on the world, titled What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann.  Here's a preview:

Incidentally, there's a Sally Mann show titled From the Family and the Land on at the Photographer's Gallery that will run through to September 19th. 

Piotr the Hammer

I never realised Piotr Anderszewski was such a heavy-handed pianist, but then again, I've only ever heard him play on his own.  Placed side-by-side with Henning Kraggerud (one of my great favourites, as you all know by now), as he was at the Wigmore last night, he sounded a bit like a child having a temper tantrum, and I doubt that's the effect Janáček was going for when he sat down to write his violin sonata.  Henning's playing was, as it usually is, terrific, and full of all kinds of subtleties that were virtually drowned out by Anderszewski, and I found myself wishing they'd do us all a favour and put the piano to half stick.  No such luck, I'm afraid.  Incidentally, Kraggerud isn't exactly a retiring milksop where sound projection is concerned.  He produces some pretty significant volume, so it takes quite a lot to overpower him.  Anderszewski managed the trick, but I don't think he meant to, which is a sort of backwards way of saying he's not used to accompanying people.  He's a soloist by nature, and perhaps one accustomed to fronting orchestras in large concert halls where projection is of the essence.  I certainly never noticed any great defects in his playing when I've seen him perform concertos, or even when I've seen him on his own in smaller venues, and last night's concert's second piece, Szymanowski's Metopes for solo piano, was fairly pleasant to listen to, provided of course you like Szymanowki, which I half do.  There were a few moments in the first movement where I'd have sworn someone had tipped a box of dishes down a flight of stairs, but they were short-lived, and quickly supplanted by a nice sonic richness.  This was especially true of Anderszewski's playing in the second and third movements, where his big sound actually contributed to the music's character, and I began to suspect order had been restored to the proceedings.  It hadn't.  The last piece before the interval -- and the last one I stuck around for -- was Schumann's sumptuous Märchenbilder, which brought Kraggerud back on stage, viola in hand, to fight another round with Anderszewski.  He lost, and so did the rest of us.