Frau Kolb – Page 5 – TalkingGrid

Posted on July 29, 2014August 10, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 6 Comments

Meeting The Muse, Ms. Crane & Frau Kolb Paris Before Midnight

Evening slowly wraps itself around the glowing Eiffel Tower in a cloudy shawl of sunset orange, royal blue, and burnt electric gold. Tourists, girls in their pretty flower print dresses, sway in a stiff clean breeze sweeping across the Seine, looking up at the bright lights, many sights. We return to our room for showers and a change into less comfortable and more stylish attire. (I put on my travel socks, designed to squeeze the swell out of my foot. They look presentable with my silver 1920’s style beaded mini-skirt, velvet bustier, and white tux jacket.) My male half, HC Kolb, also adorns himself with a good hair brushing and other gestures of appropriate fastidiousness in manly grooming. He arms himself with a high tech camera lens and we are ready to GO!

This meeting with Ms. Crane, The Muse, is a momentous occasion. For those of you regular readers of Talkinggrid, that are familiar with The Muse and our art adventures in Los Angeles, California, remember that The Muse VANISHED into Europe months ago, then suddenly she was spotted making waves and causing excitement, first in Dublin, Ireland, then all over Europe! The Muse has now deigned to perch in Paris for a spell. Who knows how long the city will continue to enchant her? Questions regarding the mysterious and alluring Muse, abound. Frau Kolb is on the case, giving chase to The Muse, across the North American continent and The Atlantic Ocean, Frau Kolb is almost re-united with the one and only, Ms. Crane in Paris, France!

Blessed are those mortals that witness the splendor of The Muse in the exciting embrace of the midnight summer dazzling linguistic and material luxury, of long Parisian nights filled with wandering Lovers, Seekers, and Other Dangerous Folk.

We arrive at the appointed spot. I sit. My husband snaps an phone photo of me anticipating the arrival of The Muse. However, she is graciously waiting, having found a perfect table, downstairs in the sexy red velvet bar where “American Style,” cocktails are served to a rushing cascade of crashing notes in a bellicose serenade of frenzied cat-fight piano playing, in the “American Style,” I assume… just the kind of playing one imagines happens in the snug, tight, sexy space of “Harry’s American Bar,” a joint straight out of countless literary and cinematographic fantasies I’ve harbored since birth.

I felt as though I was slipping into the pages of a well wore book, a beloved fantasy. Yet, not exactly, since I was at my wits end! Where exactly was The Muse? I took the initiative. I marched downstairs. She was there LOOKING FANTASTIC! Could a human be more beautiful? More well proportioned? More striking without lifting a finger? NO! NO! NO! Ms. Crane, The Muse, is perfection embodied. She is. In Paris, France, where Beauty most routinely lounges in every corner of the city, Ms. Crane is the most superlatively at home being. She outshines The Eiffel Tower. I can attest to the intensity of her charm, being that in Los Angeles she ruled my world and her effect is clearly not based on location, location, location. Paris suits The Muse, just fine.

Posted on July 28, 2014July 28, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 1 Comment

The First Steps: Walking in Paris

After our first Parisian Cafe Lunch, we walked. All over the world, walking is NATURAL! Walking is FUN! I love walking, on sidewalks, in Paris, in New York, and London. Frau Kolb walks everywhere. We hit the streets, for a few hours, of neighborhood window shopping and mental preparation for THE MAIN EVENT!!!

Yes, I admit it. Frau Kolb has an agenda. Frau Kolb is on a special mission in Paris. Frau Kolb has flown across the United States of America and The Atlantic Ocean to see HER, The MUSE. Well, there are three embodiments of femininity that are now associated forever to Paris in Frau Kolb’s mind. The first is La Tour, the Eiffel Tower. She is beautiful, beyond belief. A perfect structure, calling out to visitors from every corner of the round planet, she beckons and they come in droves and have for well over a hundred years! She is entirely delightful, worth every effort and amazing, as a source of pride and a point from which one can see all Paris from her busy heights. She offers the best perspective over Paris. Presenting the entire city for eager eyes to take in. But one can never forget the fleeting, shifting, ever-changing glamour and thrill which is being high up, over Paris. What a perfect structure! Absolutely, my favorite tourist attraction, in the world.

The Mona Lisa, queen of the Italian Wing in the Louvre Museum, Paris. She is, after all, the attributed work of all-time-genius Leonard de Vinci, the time-traveling Master of Scientific Creativity in Art. She, too, like the tower, pulls in visitors, cameras clicking, maniac desperation for a glimpse of her famously enigmatic smile, grips the public. (I pay homage to Mona’s marvelous appeal in coming posts… and pending pages. You must only return to Talkinggrid to witness the coverage of La Giaconda’s madding appeal.)

Paris's Italian Draw, at the Louvre, behind glass...Tourist hordes & Frau Kolb pay paparazzi homage. — Paris’s Italian Draw, at the Louvre, behind glass…Tourist hordes & Frau Kolb pay paparazzi homage. However, in the words of the one and only chief, living MUSE of Talkinggrid, Ms. Crane “Fuck the Mona Lisa!” What a refreshing position! This option had not occurred to me! Talkinggrid’s Instant Expert on all things Paris, Ms. Crane was brimming insight into the necessity of avoiding the hordes, the “selfie girls,” among the ravaging armies of tourists coming from ALL OVER THE WORLD to snap a picture of her little tight lipped, butter won’t melt, is-it–smirk (?), FAMOUS smile. According to Ms. Crane, “She’s not worth it.” She is rather, “small.” Mona is closely guarded and behind glass. This painting is the ultimate untouchable object. (Who can resist?)

Ms. Crane in Paris. What could be better? Now, Frau Kolb had a real reason to rush, to arrive, to be in Paris. Her glowing presence, more important to me than the mystery of the Mona Lisa’s smile or the breathtaking sparkle of the Eiffel Tower. Muse Crane’s unique radiance, fuels Frau Kolb urgency to visit Paris in July 2014, for the first time, and not sooner or later. One simply must see the most beautiful living MUSE ever known, in the city most famous for its beauty. It had to happen. There was no choice. Ms. Crane’s pull is so strong. Her soul, her AMERICAN sense of FREEDOM, is so beautiful, one would gladly fly across the ocean to witness her bloom in the ancient center that is Paris, France and listen to her thoughts on life, love, and business in this magnificent city. Wise beyond her years, Ms. Crane, inspires thought, action, and admiration wherever she goes. Thus, Frau Kolb follows the Muse, wherever she may frolic.

As we walked around, performing a quick inspection on the pretty surface of marvelous, manicured, Paris, taking our first steps and photographs to share, Frau Kolb was anticipating the pleasure of communing with THE MUSE in her new perch, Paris, a worthy pedestal for Ms. Crane’s world class appeal.

Posted on July 27, 2014July 27, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 1 Comment

Upon Arrival in The Paris of Frau’s Dreams!

On Thursday… I think this is the first day I was here. I arrived early and exhausted, having guzzled entirely too much Champagne on the plane and barfed several times before landing. I even left my hot pink mobil on the plane and had to turn around when I was already on line to customs and the man, my seat mate, travel buddy, who may have kissed me on the lips, after my first few glasses, departed leaving me his telephone number scribbled on his plane ticket.

Fortunately, I got my phone back, took a taxi, and made it to sleek and immaculate Hotel Pullman, in view of the Eiffel tower. At first the room looked tiny; the balcony, a joke. I began to unpack and put my swollen right foot (which ALMOST caused me not to travel, to chicken out on this seminal voyage… which would have been really terrible) up. In contrast to my expectations, I waited for Hartmuth to arrive before venturing out. As I rested the room grew bigger, unfolding into a lovely well-furnished space to spend a few days. I read one of the many guide books, short stories, and novels I’d hauled cross country and the Atlantic Ocean. I floated off into jet-lagged sleep and when my husband arrived I was dressed and ready to venture out.

Frau Kolb Loves Paris — Frau Kolb is in bliss/shock to arrive in Paris!

Slipping out of the Hotel Pullman, onto the Paris street, “Gustave Eiffel,” we walked like jet-lagged in love zombies, hand-in-hand to the monument. Seeing it up close for the first time is quite the shock. It is so beautiful. She is perfect. I love grids and she is the grid going to town. She is divine. She. “La Tour,” they call her because she is undeniably a lady, a lady that loves her visitors, and welcomes all from every corner of the planet to drool over her long and lovely legs. We did not have the strength to climb La Tour immediately. Our bodies demanded nourishment. Thus, we pushed forward a few steps and went to the Cafe Champs de Mars.

We ordered, “Deux Coupe Champagne,” pate, and escargot. Tears of joy, washed down my face as I took my first sip since barfing on the plane to Paris. I was HOME. I was living the dream, inside the picture, which I’d carried in my head of Paris, made complete by the handsome French waiter, in white dress shirt black vest and neck tie, everyone dresses better in Paris…. even the homeless show so traces of style. My husband squeezed my hand and kissed me. I relaxed and took a sip of sparkling water, feeling blessed to finally be an American in Paris. I’ve dreamed of this very thing, my entire life. So far, there was nothing but bliss in being here. Puking and swollen foot aside… Frau Kolb has arrived. Paris embraces. Frau melts into a happy pat of Parisian sidewalk joy, nibbling on a chewy (delicious) snail (thank you snail for giving me your LIFE) in butter and herbs.

Merci!

Posted on July 26, 2014September 6, 2014 by Frau Kolb

On the Flight to Paris, France, July 2014

Newark Airport and The Flight to Paris Business Class Seat and a glass of Champagne or sparkling wine upon boarding, followed up with another and another and… well one thing led to conversation with my new seat mate, a married man on his way to work. This man, however, was very different than Claus, the American Executive on the previous flight from San Diego to New York was, friendly but not… flirty.

“To ensure the safety of our passengers,” droned on the Stewardess in the bored tones of stewardesses everywhere, and then she switched to FRENCH and it was marvelous smooth sounds and rolling words, soothing to my brain, I sipped my bubbles and thought, “I don’t understand what she’s saying, but I dig it.” I realized that the French language was as promised, better. Sexier.

I don’t remember what he said to me but I am certain that he and not I started our conversation. He asked lots of questions. One or two Bubblies into the flight, I was feeling open enough to answer his many questions and having conducted an informal interview of Claus, in his black running attire, on the first leg of the flight from monstrously bright and ever-sunny Southern California, to the perpetually charming and mysterious OLD WORLD, I felt I owed the universe to subject myself to questioning with the same easy going grace that Claus demonstrated, hours before.

“First trip to France?” he asked me. “No, actually, this is to be my first trip to Paris but, I’ve been to France before. I visited the South, Cote d’ Azure and St. Tropez.” He smiled and said, “It is nice in Nice, but what is truly lovely is Biarritz.” He went on, “It is where the tourists do not go and it is just as fine, the dining is divine!” He looked convinced, certain. I promised myself that I’d look into his statement. I had my notebook on my lap, so I was going to make myself a note, but I wasn’t sure how to spell, “Biarritz,” so I asked him to write in my journal.

He took my pen, looking at it said, “What a nice pen!” Then he wrote in my book, commenting, “What very excellent paper!” “Yes,” I agreed with him. “I bought this diary years ago, and it is a treasure to me. I saved it for this trip. The paper is handmade Japanese rag with threads of gold tossed in for good measure.” At that he laughed and he asked me, “So… what do you do?” “I write.” I said. “Actually, I blog. I’ve got a blog. It is called, “Talkinggrid.” He positively snickered at that one. “What do you write about?” This is, the obvious question, I answer this one a lot, but only recently (thanks to the note worthy contemporary artist Nobel Sounds of San Diego) I have a set answer for this common question. “Well,” I said with a sip and feeling rather important, I was giving an interview, after all, “I write about culture, life… food, art history, art… and spirituality. In other words, I’m a Cultural Commentator!” He looked at me like he did not know what I was talking about, so I said, “I recently wrote about Othello, and the actor Blair Underwood’s smashing performance in the Bard’s best tale,” or something like that. Now, he was impressed.

“OH OTHELLO!” he exclaimed and told me of how much he loved Shakespeare’s most famous play and how well it was put on, in France. He was aglow over the thought of Othello. I know the feeling. I feel much the same about this classic play on race and envy. I watched and enjoyed his pleasure. I commented on what a joy it was to witness the beautiful Underwood strut his manly stuff in the role. His appearance… skin dark and gorgeous, smooth, a father-god kind of perfection brought a lot of value to the production that I enjoyed twice at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego.

“Did you know that Othello was a real man? His story that of a Moor… of course with some adjustments… it was a warning for black men everywhere!” He laughed, with a very naughty sparkle in his eye. Curious, I asked him of his ethnic background, but I could see that he was like me, a happy child of mad colonialism, a mix of captured Africans and free booting Europeans, perhaps strands of golden everyone… Asian, perhaps… or not… he was like me. We laughed, discussing our respective features and color as only two people of very similar looks can. We talked of his freckles and how very French they were. I’m in some way, clearly Spanish. This is a fact that is redundant to those that know. Between us there was no reason to be guarded since we have a very similar sense of self and history. I’d found another type of instant rapport. This one a little steamy. The bubbles kept coming, the friendly Stewardess having decided that she “LIKED,” me and that I was funny, and that… well… she kept pouring, we kept talking, and that I got sick on the plane is no surprise.

That my seat mate proved friendly when I emerge from my voyage to the W.C. was a good outcome, everybody knows it is a BAD idea to imbibe Champagne on the airplane, I was grateful he didn’t think me an idiot. This interaction, left me feeling optimistic about the pending arrival in Charles de Gaul Airport. He made sure I was, “Ok,” before departing, into the crowds.

(Thank you HM for the editorial support. You are the very best!)

Posted on July 24, 2014August 17, 2014 by Frau Kolb

ASML Executive, Thunderstruck by Malaysian Plane Tragedy

On a flight out of San Diego, I spoke to Claus, first, I’m sure. I don’t know what precisely about him said to me that it was OK for me to break the ice with a little conversation. He had a friendly air, even though he appeared engaged with work on board the cross-country flight to Newark, New Jersey, where I would was to connect to my flight to long awaited, romanticized, and idealized PARIS. He was busy being productive, clicking screens, texting with the air of business drive. We were seated in the business section, after all. So I felt compelled to write about my departure and surroundings, noting every fluctuation in group mood and seat mate’s work flow. Charts and graphs, very important looking, lit up his lap-top screen. I watched him work with growing fascination. Taking a few notes about, “productivity,” and “dynamic people,” inspired by watching Claus blaze from file to file, taking in what looked like highly complex information, at a super quick rate. I’m always curious about fellow travelers. Yet, I don’t always engage others in conversation. This was special.

He was wearing the black sports uniform of an affluent man. He looked ready for a run in any of San Diego’s frightfully exclusive neighborhoods. I felt an instant kinship with this man. He being a “Road Warrior,” as I am well acquainted with his ilk of being constantly going, moving, creating, leading, and facing the ups and downs that life hurls at us all. My husband is such a man and this man’s energy was much like that of my beloved Dr. Hartmuth C. Kolb.

In our initial banter, Claus made the following comment: “The stock market is where the world decides what is important.” He was referring to his company’s performance as a world leader in high-tech semi-conductor business (forgive me if I failed to understand Claus’s business exactly, I’m sure that there will be corrections made to this initial draft, thank you for understanding). His savvy comment really got my full attention. I enjoy (for conversations sake) a good, solid blanket statement! I thought to myself, “What an interesting person! I’d like to know more about him,” Thus began an unofficial, off-the-record interview with this tall, fit, senior executive at ASML.

I asked:

“How old were you when you built your first computer?”

In a blink and with a boyish smile, “Eight!” He answered and then his grin broadened and he said, “but it did not work!” with a laugh, he continued… “I just loved building things, taking things apart.” We both laughed appreciating the beautify of assembling and disassembling, creating and erasing.

Then I asked Claus,

“So how old were you when you built your first working computer?”

“Over 18, in college, it was an assignment or something… but that was easy, by then I really had a sense for how these machines worked.” Listening to him a felt a familiar rush of admiration, because I have nothing but affection and respect for intelligent people, the ones that invest their youth in learning, becoming social leaders and thereby providing jobs, products, and services to the world.

So, feeling this way, I asked him, “What three acts define you?”

Easily he answered, “One is building machines, the second is exercise/sports/fitness, the third is fuzzy… but clearly, his relationship to wife and child… filled the plane with warmth for his work, recreation, and family. I felt myself to be in the company of a man much like my adorable husband. Therefore, I mentioned to Claus, that he reminded me of my Dreamboat. They have much in common since my husband built his first working computer at age 18, while in the army, inside his private locker, for relaxation. Ha!

Then I asked him, on a lark, “IF you were to get a tattoo what would it be?”

“I’d want a crude dagger henna tattoo, noting permanent!” We both laughed again at his quick reply.

Then he gave me a HOT San Diego Tip: Go to Whole Foods in Del Mar at 1pm on Saturday, during the Del Mar racing season, which is now, and prepared to be amazed by all the BEAUTIFUL WOMEN!

Being that I love looking, I made a note of that and everything else Claus said. He was funny, entertaining and then he went on, “These are not first wives…” Hah! “This are the second and third wives, the Mistresses, they are AMAZING!” I thought, “WOW! I really have to make a point of seeing this spectacle of fine females on parade while organic grocery shopping in one of Souther California’s most desirable locations.

“You know how you can tell that they are second and third wives, not the first time around?” He asked me. I answered, “Because they are way too beautiful to be affordable by young men, these are the trophy wives of the triumphant males.” He seemed even more amused that I was not under any illusions about the facts of youthful beauty and its exulted status among those that can command dreams and shape the world to fit their fancies. We laughed a little more, savoring the fact of knowing a thing or two about life and yet not feeling cynical about our own lives, observing the patterns of others. Then he went on, “They say that the first wife is for love, the second for hope over experience, the third is a choice between rental and retail.” Again we chuckled, because we have in common knowing these facts to be true for many, yet not having fallen for the social traps, since we are both happily married to our one-and-only first spouses with whom we have our respective children, a source of pride and outstanding joy.

Thus, he told me of his son’s computer building antics and the boy’s delight at bossing father, Claus, around.

I enjoyed every second of our jovial conversation. Yet, just as we were parting, having turned on our phones to communicate with the world, Claus’s entire demeanor changed. The Malaysia Airlines flight had some of his companies’ employees on it. Claus was immediately crushed by the news. I was there to witness his sudden encounter with life’s bitter, cruel, edge… taking notes and talking come naturally to me. This person’s pain hurts me, too, and brings home the fact that we are all connected, involved, and politically intertwined ONE people of the world, wherever our location our lives are intertwined with those of others, around the world, through commerce and culture.

I send condolences to the Dutch people (I have family in Amsterdam). I send condolences to all those affected by this senseless tragedy.

Posted on July 18, 2014September 6, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 2 Comments

Le Grand Art Adventure: Frau Kolb in Paris

Paris! Strange to be on a plane, going to a place so familiar from film and literature, that it feels more like a homecoming, instead of an arrival at a new destination. Paris, weirdly, is tremendously familiar, it is almost another home.

Does everyone feel this way, arriving in Paris?

So many have visited Paris before me, before us… Paris is a city that dwarfs the biggest ego. Considering who I am, and what interests me most (Art and History!) it is strange that I’ve before never visited famed Paris before, today. It is a momentous occasion in the history of Frau Kolb!

Have you been to Paris?

Indeed it is odd to think, that I, Frau Kolb, experienced globe trotter, am a bone-fide virgin to Paris. Paris, old and self regenerating center, holds unique appeal. Yet, Paris is a virgin to Frau Kolb. A ripe and fertile beckoning. The dynamic, conquest driven, Frau Kolb, cannot resist the call of legend. One more big goal checked off the bucket list. Ah!

The murmuring of the Seine, snaking around the watery core of an ancient multi-layered city.

So… here I am loaded with guide books and ready to add my experience of it to the wealth of history which defines this rich old dame. She dazzles, I hear. “The City of Lights,” They call her! I listen to her name, whispered, shouted, co-opted. A wistful nostalgia for other times grips me. I feel one with Josephine Baker, mistral performer and emblem of beauty. Her banana peel dress forever revealing, appealing. This trip has, is a dream come true and I am delighted to be able to share my observations and discoveries with you. Thank you for reading.

I am applying my sacred SEVEN BOOK RULE. Yes, this is the key stone of Frau’s success in many aspects of life, not being perfect, yet being certain… confident. Paris, is wondrous to read and apparently to write about. So many books are available about this city. Paris is a city that has inspired artists, architects, writers, and others without professional claim to aesthetic understanding. Paris is a Grand Muse, so much is written about her, she is famous, beyond measure.

I’ve arrived! Behold the legions of tourists! I am among them. Camera clicking, what has been photographed countless times, but never before by me. I’m so happy to be here, realizing a life goal.

On the plane, I dealt a serious blow to TIME by reading, a tidy little hard-back full of simple colorful images, stark in its naive and charming comparisons between the two cities, “Paris Versus New York,” by Vahram Muratyan. I am a New Yorker. Born and Raised in Manhattan, I know the grid and its ease, the speed with which one can traverse worlds, any day in Manhattan. I know about bagels, yet baguettes were always an option. The beginning of his book works much like the beginning of this post. He introduces us to Paris as a woman, an individual of unique strengths and mysterious, enduring, character. Seductive, Paris, is even to those that call her home. She is like New York, only older. I storm through that picture driven book, soaking up a few of his impressions, and moving on, but not before asking myself about that book I was reading yesterday and last night, “Paris, Paris.” by David Downie, until I passed out, exhausted from PACKING FRENZY and FRENCH STUDY, went… I pick up a thick paper back, I’ve hauled a number of books with me onto the “Business First,” seat my Dearest booked for the trip. The book I chose is… not high brow, not an elegant seemly tome but a door-stopper, heavy in page weight and light in content; Edward Rutherford’s, “Paris,” pops into hand. Now, I don’t know if you know about Rutherford’s work. You might. It is likely that you know it like I do, as a secret passage into the annals of history light. He weaves a pleasant tales into the fabric of known history often placing his characters as witnesses to the great events of a historical epoch. I started reading Rutherford when I was a girl. “Sarum,” was the first book of his I read. I enjoyed it very much and followed up by reading others of his books. Eventually, the formulaic style of the author wore out my interest and I’ve not read one of his books in almost a decade. This, too, is a type of return to the known, the familiar author, with his soothing uncontroversial, light writing style fits the mood of this maiden voyage to picturesque Paris!

Posted on July 17, 2014July 22, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 2 Comments

Wilkomen to the New and Improved Talkinggrid!

It isn’t everyday that a dream comes true. Today, you are witnessing a little arrival, a taste of fulfillment uplifting Talkinggrid and creating a site where we can exchange ideas and laugh together at the madness. The position which Talkinggrid holds dear is that each perspective matters. Yet, the artist’s understanding of the world is one of particular interest. Thus, we interview artists, engaging in intimate art chat. Yet, we don’t stop there. We continue.

Posted on July 16, 2014July 16, 2014 by Frau Kolb

OH! Othello! Bewitched by The Bard’s Blackest Hero! Blair Underwood ROCKS!

So… What do you do when you see a great actor, Blair Underwood, in San Diego for a limited engagement, for example, perform one of the world’s great plays? Well, IF you are Frau Kolb then you GO BACK and see it again. Of course!

The second time I saw Othello, last week, at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre, I had my children and a Mystery Muse in gentle tow. We floated into our seats, rather high and dead centre upon the stage action. When, I saw the production, two days earlier, we had third-tier seats closer to the musicians, which I loved because the musician closest to me was a pleasure to behold. He banged the big drum, tapped the silver cymbal and scratched the violin strings to create an appropriately throbbing and eerie sound, thereby supporting the cast in their Friday night rendition of the play. His golden red mop, flopping in time with the well chosen musical accompaniment.

With no further ado, two actors jump on stage and again, the cycle of intrigue and deception was springs again. Roderigo, storms in, brimming with frustration, accusing Iago:

“Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly

That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.”

I took it in as much as I could, without drowning, as the words washed over me. I was even further afloat. I was buoyant, buoyed by The Bard’s Words and I was lost. Castaway. The sea of meaning enveloped me and I lost my bearings. I forgot about my children. Fortunately, they were next to me, tucked into their costly seats for their very first experience of TRAGEDY, Comedy, Drama! Ah! We soared together touching the clouds, visible above our heads, outside… an occasional horn honk.

I wish I could tell you that I arrived at t better understanding of the play having seen the same production with the same actors, TWICE in ONE WEEK. Yet, I can not say that. In fact, I’m more confused about the story and about Shakespeare’s intention. The lines that stung the first time, clung to me now like algae clings to those that intend to swim. Othello went by so fast the second time. Perhaps, I fainted! Perhaps I wasn’t there.

It was strange, but I remember more clearly, that…

We met a little early, as though by chance, in the

Garden before the Globe, and we strolled around

And into our seats we fell and were transported.

Oh Othello! What a pleasure to witness, Mr. Blair Underwood, chest exposed in crucial scenes, thrilling the audience with his mighty acting muscle. This was a play I had to have my children see. They had to witness Underwood, in his prime, strutting the glorious metal of a seasoned solider of the stage. He plays the military hero with August POMP, all blistering with hot pride and JOY at having captured Desdemona’s heart, he crumbles at the, powerful implanted by Iago, suggestion that she deceives him. Death ensues.

At THE END: “Not everybody died!” Said my daughter (Ever the optimistic).

My son, older, wiser, said, “Yes, but Iago, will have to live with his crime, alone, forever.”

How deep is that?

If you haven’t made time for Shakespeare, lately, get to it. It might remind you, how that the vital waters of eternal undoing rage without stopping to check with Time’s compass. Let the winds of curiosity whisk you from Caliban’s secret Isle to Othello’s marital demise.

Thank goodness for Underwood’s powerful performance which anchored my interest. The iron core of his skill maybe more than an onyx six-pack of charm, which motivated me, to take the children, A Mystery Muse, and myself to San Diego’s Globe Theatre, to see Underwood in Othello, Twice in ONE WEEK!

Incredible!

Frau Kolb

Posted on July 16, 2014July 16, 2014 by Frau Kolb

“Who’s NEXT?” A Barber Shop with Class in La Jolla, California.

You can judge the quality of a community by its Barber Shop(s). Take for example, actor Seymour Cassel’s, memorable rendition of the ideal Barber/Father to the young genius, Max Fisher, astutely played by Jason Schwartzman, in Wes Anderson’s brilliant film, Rushmore. In the film, Rushmore the Barbershop is portrayed as what is should always be, a place of comfort and paradoxically of stark revelation, transformation. It is where the beloved actor, Bill Murray, playing a whiskey drinking, divorce-bound Sad Dad, is transformed, redeemed, rescued by the honest embrace of a thickly padded Barber’s Chair, a pile steaming hot towels, and the razor’s ready edge.

In fact and fiction, good traditional Barber’s Shops are a refuge for men. Seeking this ideal experience we have, at times spent BIG MONEY. For example, there was a periods of years during, which we paid for Honey to have his haircut at The Shave in Beverly Hills. After a while, we stopped it because we realised we were being fleeced. A haircut for a half-bald Honey should not cost $$$$! No way! Yesterday, at “Who’s Next?” which is a welcoming little nest for shaggy fellas, we confirmed our experience. Hartmuth got a quick haircut. By a beyond efficient, masterful Barber. Haircuts with clippers, buzz cuts with stubbly edges, all the fuzzy feelings of joy that do with good grooming! We can all agree: men LOOK so Good, after a fresh haircut!

Have you ever had the pleasure of hanging out in a classic Barbershop?

Have you ever met a refined, sensitive, highly educated Barber? Well, meet Mr. D. He is the most friendly, competent, immediate confidant, trustworthy man with a sharp tools, I’ve ever met!

An excellent Barber listens, laughs, and, he treats each guest with the respect he clearly has for himself, if a perfectly groomed Barber is to be taken as proof of good training and self mastery. His easy, earnest conversation is a soothing example of how humans are supposed to connect and confide, confer and create bonds which sustain others and the self. After visiting, “Who’s Next?” one is left with a sense of excellence. In meeting a man that clearly values his connections to family and friends, his fiancé, his son who also clips the hair of men of others, part-time, as he prepares for college. In this way, father passes on to son, an honest trade which is always and forever in demand, thereby reveals the core of masculine strength, nobility, passed from one generation to the next, which inspires. Ah!

Return to the comfort of “Who’s Next?,” a quality barbershop in San Diego’s upscale paradise, La Jolla. It is a real place.

Small. Cosy. Friendly. Prompt. Service! I love good service.

Former Navy Man,* Florida native, happy San Diego transplant success, Mr. . runs a tight ship. The shop is immaculate. Two giant scissors decorate the wall, evoking crossed swords in a symbol of chivalry. In an informal interview Mr. D revealed that “Who’s Next?” is a family business. He inherited the skills and the passion for creating a quiet, manly retreat, from his uncle. He says, “My Uncle always knew that I would continue working with hair, that I liked it.”

Mr. D’s smile, speaks volumes about his standards of conduct. The great haircut my husband received proves that Mr. D. is a no-nonsense small business owner, the kind of man whose conduct and true character shine brighter than the best and most sparkly, stiff, pomade.

*(Correction: in an earlier published draft I wrote that Mr. D was a Marine, not the case, I made that up. Sorry.)

Ah! To be transported to the living age-of-chivalry, yesterday in a cute little barbershop, via good-old-fashioned slow and thoughtful conversation we arrived at that place outside time, where everything slows down, allowing for a few ernest moments of sparkling laughter. Served fresh, humour is the best medicine and laughter is the most potent health tonic.

Take time, My Friends, to connect, to arrive at the small pleasures. So… I advise you go get a haircut. Go to a neighbourhood spot, where you are recognised and treated like a close and cherished friend upon arrival. If you happen to be in San Diego, I highly recommend that you visit Mr. D. at “Who’s Next?”

Big hug,

Frau Kolb

Posted on July 16, 2014 by Frau Kolb — 1 Comment

For the LOVE of Underwood! Actor Rocks role of Othello in San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre

For the LOVE of Underwood! Actor Rocks role of Othello in San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre, July 8th, 2014

Thank you, regular readers of Talkinggrid,

I can’t get over how happy I am, how much gratitude I feel for all those that continue supporting this wacky, homespun, and about to massively improve, alternative art news and cultural commentary web-site. In gratitude I will tell you of LAST NIGHT’S DELIGHTFUL theatrical experience. Yes! I will share with a fast glimpse, a peek into the pure pleasure witnessing actor, Blair Underwood rock the role of Othello in San Diego’s one-and-only Globe Theatre.

The hunky-super-handsome actor was beyond dreamy, in a driven and moving enactment of Shakespeare’s blackest of black comedies in three acts. Underwood embodied the most tragic of British Literature’s, arch tragic heroes, the-one-and-only, Othello . Underwood, a powerhouse actor was supported by a tight, vivid, and on-point performance by Richard Thomas as Iago, whose lucid demonstration of evil, calculating revenge, and pure malice evoked chills of recognition, fear, and excitement from the audience. The two lead actors pushed the story forward with their muscular acting talent. They delivered The Bard’s oft quoted lines with the light lips of a lover’s undying sincerity.

Last night, I shared a blanket with my best friend, near the orchestra pit. I watched the skilful musicians beat out the rhythm of Shakespeare. I let the music of the words sink into my soul and the stars above added the needed sense of connection to a larger world, placing this FEMALE FORWARD reading of Othello in the world of today. Every act, played upon the other, and led brilliantly to the inevitable demise of the protagonist and his intimates. Yet, actresses really brought the play home with a smashing, intensely womanly understanding of what it is to submit to, and what it is to resist, male domination. Kristen Connolly plays a striking Desdemona, no cowering flower, she faces scandal, paternal wrath, and death with chiseled dignity. Yet, it was Angela Reed as Emilia that most intensely captured the voice of the abused and betrayed woman. She dies for and with her mistress in a visceral representation of loyalty, delivering her final speech with the fearless passion of total understanding.

Barry Edelstein’s Othello is refreshing and inviting into a renewed intimacy with the simple mechanical and emotional perfection that is Shakespeare’s later work. Edelstein, author of two books on Shakespeare, has succeeded in creating a memorable departure from prior stagings and to arrive at a noteworthy addition to the world’s perpetual fascination with the violence, the passion, and the innocence that Othello ensures.
In short, Bravo!

>Special thanks, to the wonderful staff at the Globe Theatre and even more special WARM & FUZZY Thank you to E. and her Crew of Lovely Ladies.

AND, a GIGANTIC THANK YOU to ACTOR, Blair Underwood, for allowing us to take his picture, signing a birthday autograph, and assisting celebrating my best friend’s keynote birthday! His warmth and open-hearted, easily approachable demeanour, made it a snap to create a little memorabilia of the marvelous evening. Visiting the theatre was never more meaningful, than last night surrounded by my friend and her friends, which are now, thanks to the bonding experience of seeing and meeting such a marvelous specimen of human perform, are my friends, too. But more than anything, thank you, to all that have gone to hell and back, to bring to life the glorious Othello.

Thank you for continuing to visit this lowly wayward self-spun masterpiece of self discovery: Talkinggrid. Years ago, Frau Kolb changed her personal art web-site into this wordy mess you keep returning to, a feast for some word hungry souls, requiring contact with another ravenous appetite. I understand, because I’m addicted to blogging. It is true that I have neglected to sleep, at times in my bunny’s desire to hop to it and write-right-now!

The intense need to express one’s self, as an artist (painter/music player/noise maker/performer) renders communication the unwavering focus. We read. Often we write. Many of my best friends have their own blogs which I support. Yet, my entire life, I’ve preferred the small-homespun look of transition and unfinished experimentation. I shun much of what is POPULAR Culture today. The slick hard look of music makers, their tattoos all in order and SHINY… Yuck. Sorry, but commercial television, mainstream Hollywood films, junk foods, and other less than wholesome advertising rich sources of spiritual pollution leave me looking for the bookstores, the good museums, off beat and curious art galleries, the analogue, the antique, the unchanging enduring SILENCE which is the core of enjoying life in the long term. Ah!

Yesterday, one of my on-line buddies made a comment that hit home. He said that gardening is a “positive addiction.” Well… I like that. I have a number of “positive addictions,” which make my life sweet. I dig walking, talking, reading, writing, laughing, loving, learning, music, and DANCE.

I love the movement of the sea. I am “positively addicted,” to life near the ocean, the beach, the sand. Of course

Loving LIFE is my hobby and I’m becoming an Expert on being at ease in the turbulent crunch of TODAY.

Merci,

Frau K.

Re-Thinking Talkinggrid

Dearest Readers, Contributors, and Supporters,

I’d like to thank you for your attention and donations. You have given me reason to write and get out looking for art adventures on which to report.

You have shared the links and sent in money. You comment and you help me edit this blog. I appreciate your help very much and really you have encouraged me. I’ve become a person that writes, regularly, fluidly, thanks to the knowing that you might read what I wrote today. I find that prospect alone very exciting. Moreover, when you click the DONATE button on the side bar you send Frau Kolb soaring, literally! I’m always planning my next trip, the NEXT big art adventure!

I confess: I am an ambitious woman. Yet, my goals are private, personal. I don’t want to be a politician or an attorney. I don’t want to be a judge. I’m happy doing what I do best which is caring, loving, and living in awe of all that is. I’m lucky that I can see the sunlight and feel its warmth on my skin. I’m blessed that I can read and write and share with you some of my quirky ideas and perspective. You inspire me.

Thank you for reading and please be aware that I’ve a long term vision for Talkinggrid and that your donations, contributions, comments, LIKES, and shares all give Talkinggrid reason and the means to continue.

Best regards,

Frau Kolb

“Positive Addictions,” Time for a NEW Attitude Toward Being

Darlings, Lovely Humans,