The etchings of Scott Kieffer, currently on exhibit at Expressions Graphics, are beautifully detailed. The etching process creates a grainy black and white image similar to newsprint, which serves to accentuate the artist's interest in texture. He's particularly fond of rendering trees, often in wintertime, when he can really capture the texture of the bark and the crooked, tangled lines of tree branches.
The Aviator gets my vote for Best Picture Oscar. Of course, I don't have a vote, but if I did, I'd cast it for Scorsese's film?#34;even though I enjoyed Sideways more and found Million Dollar Baby more emotionally satisfying.
I'll say up front that it's a challenge to discuss the new show at Open Door Repertory Company with readers who haven't seen it. The plot involves a couple of major surprises that shouldn't be revealed for the play to have its full effect. Bee-Luther-Hatchee, by Thomas Gibbons, is a fascinating mystery that peels away, layer by layer, raising many provocative questions.
What does it mean to be a man? I've been giving that some thought since my son turns 21 next week. Part of being a man is figuring out what it means to be a man?#34;and not letting society impose its version on you. Besides, the guidebook is no longer in print.
Some people just can't help messing with your mind. Take Chicago a cappella, the nine-voice group that sings?#34;as you'd expect?#34;without instrumental accompaniment. The name will stay the same, but for the first time this Saturday evening at Unity Temple, the singers will have some non-human company.
Striving to stay current with the latest trends in cooking can become tiresome, especially for a cook long dedicated to the view that truly satisfying cuisine is usually uncomplicated, always consistent and always excellent. It's what I call classic. I never tire of it.
Perhaps you recall a television show called Meeting of Minds where Steve Allen would interview actors playing famous figures from history. Most often Allen's "guests" lived in different periods and places and couldn't possibly have known one another during their actual lifetimes.
Everybody plays the fool ... sometime. Last week was my turn. I ran what I thought was a very dramatic tsunami photo from the Internet with an article about a disaster relief effort by an ex-Oak Parker in Indonesia [The village trustee, the explorer, and the tsunami, p. 19].
When you're single, the marketing of holidays seems a cruel ploy to amplify your loneliness, your sense of being detached. Just when you thought it was safe to crawl out of hiding after the one-two punch of Christmas and New Year's Eve, along comes the final February blow.