In the Opera.

It is always interesting to go to the Opera and Ballet Theatre – the building itself, small unexpected additions to the classic, people watching, chatting with people – it is an experience. Today they performed “Traviata”. It was quite nice overall and the guest singer from Ukraine did have a very strong voice, borderline ultrasonic at times, but who impressed me the most was Azerbaijanian mezzo soprano, Sabina Asadova. Her voice is all depth and velvet, and she certainly has the presence on stage, which was a bit unfortunate for the leading lady. It will be interesting to see Ms. Asadova in some other production where she will have a bigger part.

Sitting and looking around the theatre made me want to tell you about this building. I like the story of its construction because it started not with a well thought out plan but with hurt feelings and desire of revenge.

Somewhere around 1910 one of the famous folk singers of Baku purchased a beautiful house for himself and decided to throw a housewarming party to celebrate this occasion. And it was the occasion to celebrate because this building (it houses SOCAR headquarters nowadays) considered to be one of the most beautiful ones in Baku at that time. Guests came from near and far, champagne was flowing, the music was playing, and laughter echoed in the night. But, two Bakuvian millionaires Daniel Mailov and his brother didn’t receive the invitation. Affronted by such an insult they brooded over revenge. Concluding that a duel wasn’t an option and being the businessmen as they were, they decided to build something just to outdo the offender. But what should they built?

Meanwhile a famous opera singer Antonina Nezhdanova came to visit Baku. She gave several concerts at various clubs, all with a great success. After finishing her tour she was invited to return to Baku but swiftly declined naming as a reason the lack of an opera house in the city. Daniel Mailov who was fond of Nezhadnaova’s wonderful soprano, immediately realized what he was meant to build. The Opera Theater, what else? Being a decisive man, he immediately invited the singer to return to the City of Wind in a year for the opening of the Opera House.

To construct a building in less than a year was quite a daring project especially since it had to confirm with many safety regulations. (A wise practice that should be reenstated here.) One of the millionaires of Baku, Zeynalabdin Taghiyev, who happened not long before these events to sponsor the construction of another theatre (present day Musical Comedy Theatre) doubted that time allotted to the project would be enough. Knowing men’s competitive nature it should not come as a surprise that Taghiyev and Mailov brothers made a bet – if Mailovs didn’t build the theatre on time, it would be given to Taghiyev as a gift; if the theatre was to be finished by 1911, the latter would have to cover all the building expenses. The Opera Theatre was finished in less than 10 months.

The theatre was opened in February of 1911 and Nezhdanova performed at the opening ceremony. Guests came from near and far, champagne was flowing, the music was playing, and laughter echoed in the night; all Bakuvian elite was present except ....– can you guess who didn’t receive the invitation?

And here, ladies and gents, some views of the theatre.

Outside

And Inside

Gurban Bayrami (“Eid-al-Adha”, Festival of Sacrifice)

Gurban Bayrami (“Eid-al-Adha”, Festival of Sacrifice) is celebrated in Azerbaijan this weekend. Eid-al-Adha, or the Festival of Sacrifice is celebrated in commemoration of the willingness of Prophet Ibrahim to sacrifice his son Ismayil on Mina Mountain as an act of his love and obedience to Allah. As Ibrahim was about to sacrifice his son, the knife didn’t cut and Allah instead provided a lamb as the sacrifice. This is why today all over the world Muslims sacrifice an animal (usually a goat or a sheep), as a reminder of Ibrahim’s obedience to God. The festivities begin 70 days after the end of Holy Ramadan and last for three days. The meat of the sacrificed animals is divided into three shares, one share for the poor, one share for relatives and neighbors, and the last to keep for oneself. In the evening people usually get together for a festive meal with family, friends and neighbors. It is customary then to remember all deceased relatives and friends. Since it is a deeply religious holiday, there is a special Holiday Namaz in mosques on that day.


A few days before the holiday we started to notice small herds of sheep along the highway and on the street that leads to a butcher shop. Some of these sheep were marked with red paint or had red ribbons tied around their horns. I was told that our neighborhood butcher shop will be very busy these days and I am torn between the desire of taking photos and inability to witness slaughter of the animals.
Speaking with various people I gathered that there are very specific rules on how to sacrifice an animal and how to divide the meat. A knife for sacrificing must be sanctified by a mullah; thean animal is supposed to be positioned between East and West, the points of the sun rising and setting; the blood of the animals is used for marking children’s forehead with a small red dot as a reminder of Ismayil.

Since not everyone can afford to buy a whole sheep, people often buy it together. The meat is divided in such a way that each person receives every part of the sacrificed animal - – i.e. if there are 10 people who share a sheep – each of them has to receive a part of a heart, liver, etc . It is sinful to sell meat of sacrificial animals; it has to be shared, and it is forbidden to drink alcohol during the feast of Eid al-Adha.

With all its layers it is a fascinating holiday – it’s essence is deeply religious; it satisfies physical hunger with a traditional feast; it provides a sensory overload with visuals of sheep being slaughtered; and it is deeply humane – it encourages people to share their riches with the less fortunate. It has the same spirit with Thanksgiving – giving something to others, be it in thanks or in food.

Along the highway

Neighborhood Butcher Shop

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today is Thanksgiving. We have a lot to be thankful for this year – our new house in a new country feels like home; the kids and us develop new friends and are blessed with the old ones; everybody in our close and far away family are in good health. But what I would like to focus on today are small and fleeting details that make life special – silence of the house in the early hours of the morning, unexpected “I love you, mom” from my boys, outburst of silly jokes coming from my usually serious husband, radiant splash of sun rays stretched across the sky, amazing discoveries that await me at every corner as long as I keep my eyes open.


Wishing you all a wonderful Thanksgiving,
Yours,
VC

A Day Off

"Shut up and be quiet," was written in red ink on a calendar for today. Having a day off in the middle of the week usually means that I pile all sorts of errands and social obligations there and as a result those days are eaten away by mad rush from one place to another. Not long ago I vowed to fill those off days only with things that bring pleasure and that phrase was my reminder.

After leisurely morning of catching up with emails I headed for the National Art Museum. The older building of the complex had some problems with electricity so I opted for the newly renovated building instead, which is located slightly higher up Niyazi Street. Besides its permanent exhibition it houses now a wonderful display of Central Asian Ikats brought to Baku by Victoria and Albert Museum. Centuries old, the ikat technique is a complex sequence of tie-dyeing silk threads to create elaborate patterns in striking colours. And those colours combination are really striking. I am deeply convinced that though these textiles reached a high point in production and popularity in nineteenth century Central Asia, they became inspiration to hippies all over the world. Just take a look....

Woman's dress with purple, pink and yellow design on an orange backgroundsize. Central Asia after 1900 Central AsiaAfter 1900 From the Rau collection; Image © V&A

Jokes aside this collection of ikat robes and hangings provide a great introduction to the inventive and colourful ikat fabrics of Central Asia.

The rest of the second floor is devoted to the works of Azerbaijani artists. There were many interesting paintings there but vibrant blue images of Sattar Bahlulzade's works and wooden sculptures of Omar Eldarov were among my favourites. The first floor I had to skim since I was running out of time but the collection of Russian artists there was surprisingly impressive. (They have Kuindzi there, and Aivazovski, and Tropinin and, amazingly. Brulov, to name just a few.)

My next stop was The Tea Party at the Turkish Embassy. And what a treat it was! There was a wonderful dance and music performance by the kids, a short documentary about Turkey, plenty of delicious finger food and hand on demonstration of traditional Turkish drawing/printing technique. OK, I am not sure if it can be called drawing because it is more like drawing on water except it isn't water but some mix of water and oil (?). It is said that picture costs thousand words so .....

At first it looks like this,



Then you carefully place paint here and there trying not to disturb the surface too much;


After you come to conclusion that it is enough colour, you take a long needle and draw, lightly, very lightly, whatever you want, using the needle as if you are using a wand.

Now, cover your creation with a list of paper and carefully pull it towards yourself...

Voila, your "print" is ready!



Of course,professional results look like that...

The "Shut up and be quiet" reminder has obviouslybeen ignored today, but all the things I did were a pure delight.

The Look of November

I cannot get over the fact that here in Baku we have palm trees and + 15 C in the middle of November.

Another Day, Another Bazaar.

The German Bazaar did took place on Sunday. And, it had more Christmasy things than IWC bazaar but... the place was way too small for a big crowd and the prices were too steep for most of the offerings. A tad disappointing, truly, but I managed to snap a few festive photos.

Christmas Bazaar (IWC)

Here and there at certain time of the year Christmas bazaars are being organized. Today the International Women Club of Baku had its 15th Annual Charity Christmas Bazaar at Landmark, Rotunda. Let me tell you, it was packed. There were representatives from every art and craft field imaginable - dollmakers and quilt makers, dressmakers and soapmakers, jewelry designers and bakers, visual artists and florists. If you were looking for something to buy as a souvenir, you certainly would have found it there and if you were not looking for anything, you would have bought something anyway. So, what they had there:

Books and DVDs

Exquisite dolls,

Handmade quilts,

Lush plants,

Irresistible sweet confections

And this is just a minuscule part of what they had to offer.

What's that? You regret you have missed it? Well, next Sunday there will be a Christmas Bazaar at the German church, why don't you stop by?

A White Tent

Going to the store I saw a white tent sitting in the middle of the street. A wedding, was my immediate thought.


When I talked with a man standing outside he told me that the occasion wasn't joyful at all - the tent was erected in memory of his much loved and respected uncle who passed away. After the funeral people will come here to pay their respects. He let me took a glance inside and explained that tea and halva would be served there for all those who will come. This day is called hatir hedjasi and literally means a day of free visits, implying that no invitations are needed. The funeral repast will take place on the third, seventh and fortieth days after the death and on the first anniversary. There is a belief that on the third and the seventh day after death the soul of the deceased is still not gone and only after forty days it finally leaves. Since he seemed to be eager to talk I asked him if the mirrors were curtained in his uncle's house and he confirmed that it was indeed done because otherwise the soul of the deceased could be trapped inside. I asked him what was his fondest memories of his uncle. He was silent for a moment. "He was the best storyteller", he said, "I'll miss it the most."

The Great Wave

A card arrived today from a dear friend of mine. Such a wonderful surprise! Hand written notes are rare these days, especially those that aren't tied to any particular occasion. For me they are quintessentially altruistic - there isn't any pressure for a timely reply (it takes about a fortnight for a mail to reach us from the States) just an acknowledgement that someone was thinking of you.



I read the card, closed it, glanced at the image on it and smiled in delight. "The Great Wave" was greeting me.

The Great Wave at Kanagawa (from a Series of Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji),Katsushika Hokusai (Japanese, 1760–1849)

About a year ago I developed an obsession with Japanese art and constantly talked, read and drew on the subject, thus the choice of the card wasn't accidental. The full title of this painting by Katsushika Hokusai is "Mt. Fuji seen through the waves off Kanagawa" but it is better known as "The Great Wave".

He was quite a character this Katsushika Hokusai, which by the way wasn't his real name. He was quarrelsome, aggessive, and absolutely brilliant. An artist through and through he left more than 30,000 works behind.

Hokusai started the series "Thirty -six Views of Mt. Fuji" when he was already seventy-two. He experimented with new blue - Prussian blue there, which was quite an expensive novelity at his time. He marveled at the clarity of the colour and searched for the new ways of expressing shades and depth. "The Great Wave" became one of the most recognizable images in Japanese paintings and its impact reached beyond the visual arts - Debussy was inspired by it to write his three "symphonic sketches", La Mer, and it said that Rilke used it as an inspiration while writing "The Mountain".

I'll leave you with these words of the artist:

"From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs. but all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy five I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At a hundred I shall be a marvelous artist. At a hundred and ten everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokosai, but today I sign my self 'The Old Man Mad About Drawing." -- Hokusai Hokusai (1760-1849)

Image courtesy of http://www.metmuseum.org/

Images

It is warm here (+15C) but overwhelmingly grey, so every splash of colour attracts my attention. That's how I came upon the images below. All of them are the paintings of Azerbaijanian artist, Elyar Alimirzayev. I like their dreamy quality but find the first image especially captivating. It is simply luminous.

Unfortunately, when I tried to investigate, there wasn't any information available about the artist, not even the years or titles of his work. He seems to be doing books illustrations also, but I can be mistaken.

Untitled

Going through predictable and recurrent phase of self doubts I stopped by Google Analytics and noticed unusual activity in the referral sites. I investigated it closely and discovered that Changes and Colours, the blog of mine that you are reading right now, was mentioned in the FS Journal. They did an article on blogging in the context of Foreign Service and listed my blog among many others. This discovery perplexes me to no end because though I know that I have an audience, I also know that it is a fairly small one, so how I got into that list is a complete mystery.

I'll let this puzzle to remain unsolved because what pleased me the most is the timing of my discovery. Just about a week ago I was confining to one of my friends that I lost zest for blogging. “There are so many wonderfully written, astonishingly talented blogs, why breed mediocrity”, was my exact wording. (Yep, I have a flare for melodrama.) My friend being a friend told me all the right encouraging things including a little pearl of wisdom, “Some blogs are products, and some are process, why go against your nature?” Few days later while discussing completely different subject my other friend said, “Don’t you worry about the results - enjoy the process.” Then I wandered into Google Analytics and you have already read the above.

The universe is trying to tell me something. Now, what can it be?

Hey, there! Hoop-la! The circus is in town! Have you seen the elephant? Have you seen the clown?*

Some families go to church on Sunday morning, some - go to circus. Our family belongs to the second variety. The Russian and Ukrainian circus came to town and I bought the tickets. How I got them is a frightening story involving an argument with the scariest ever ticket seller, a lot of convincing on my driver's part and charging me a bit more than a ticket price at the end.


And so we went to the circus and didn't regret it. Yes, it isn't the Cirque du Soleil and not even Moscow Circus but it was enjoyable and predictable. Perhaps, part of the enjoyment was in predictability - it created a bridge between my memories of visiting circus as a child and introducing it to my own kids.


As expected, they had a ringmaster who was introducing the artists and spoke to the audience - we were even able to follow his commands - it's hard not to guess what to do when everyone around start to clap their hands or raising them up. As expected, they had acrobats and gymnasts, two hoopers, sort of a juggler, a unicyclist, six tightrope walkers, a magician and two delightful clowns; some animals were present - two monkeys, poodles, a lonely lama, five or six goats, a small dog that looked like a hedgehog and a pack of playing soccer bulldogs. Unexpected part was the most touching - after each act small kids ran onto the arena with bouquets of flowers for the artists.


It was basic but it was nice. So, buy your tickets in the ticket booths downtown in order to avoid unpleasant encounter with the wicked ticket lady; take taxi - parking there is a screaming murder; don't get spooked by kids wearing little masks, after all we have cases of H1N1 in the city, and go see the clowns.


Baku State Circus, 68, S.Vurgun str.(across from Taza bazaar)


P.S. I've discovered that funambulist isn't a synonym for a clown (the "fun" part is deceiving) but for a rope walker. Isn't it fun?


*"The Circus" by Micheal James Dennis

When Colour Goes Wrong Nothing Goes Right (Extremely girly post)

In the life of every women comes the time when the visit to a colourist cannot be delayed any longer. Motivation can vary from necessity of covering gray to desire for something new or simple urge of self pampering. My reason wasn’t the necessity.

In the city of Baku one can go to a colourist or she can come to your house. I chose the second variant just because I started a new job not long ago and could not find my rhythm yet, plus I used her before and she did a decent job.

Today she came armed with an array of colous; her head a walking advertisement to her skills - she recently turned into redhead and it suits her splendidly. We discussed the options and she suggested going slightly darker with some highlights around the face – ok, I said because it sounded like something new and “slightly” indicated that it would not be a leap but just a bit of a change. She started to work, we chatted; while I was waiting for colour to develop she dealt with my sons’ haircuts. Then it was time for washing it off and blow drying. All was done at last. I went to a mirror and stepped back in horror -Cruella De Ville starred back at me. (Damn, why couldn’t Halloween have been this weekend? It would have been perfect).

A slightly darker shade took almost black turn on me and the highlights looked ghostly white. Can we do something about it? I pleaded. Thankfully, we could – after yet another hour I returned to my golden brown tone and though the highlights do appear a tad harsh, I can look at myself without cringing again. I guess I found my comfort zone – slightly lighter I can handle, slightly darker is a no-no.

Any hair related disasters you want to share?

The Time of Indifference

Browsing through the shelves of the school library, I came upon a thin volume of "The Time of Indifference" by Alberto Moravia.

Time of Indifference, what an incredible title. It is even more extraordinary if you know that the man who came up with it was only eighteen at the time of writing his first novel. Yes, he followed it with such titles as "Boredom", "Contempt", "The Conformist" but "The Time of Indifference" holds its ground.

It is often said that fifty or so years ago people matured much faster - this novel is a great illustration to it. It is so full of disillusions, so calmly unkind, so unusually indifferent to its own characters.

Everything what you see there isn't what it is; everyone say one thing and think another. Five characters bound together by genetics, lust, past, resentment, loneliness, and financial woos, exist in perpetual state of loud arguments, pulsating sexual desires and dramatic events but underlying emotion of their existance is indeed indifference. Like a surface of water regains its calm after the stone sank to the bottom; the high emotions in the novel remain just that passing feelings, failing to initiate real change.

This novel is often called the worst of Moravia's work, while in fact it shows how talented and observant he was even at the young age.

Colours

I love colours and always look for the new ways of incorporating them into my surroundings. Silk curtains with butterflies have been a part of our house for nearly five years now but unusual parameters of the windows here prevent me from using them in a proper curtainy ways. Pity, really. But they are so beautiful and the thought of putting them away for the next year and a half is so depressing so I am thinking of hanging them up on two opposite walls, a la tapestry. Have to find some short rods here!