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Monday, September 8, 2008

Millennium Musings

I discovered an old article of mine.

Apparently, years before the blogosphere was invented, I was blogging.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blogosphere

Although the following essay was written nearly nine years ago, the circumstances are essentially unchanged...

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Millennium Musings
(January, 2000)


What actually happened during the last years of the 20th century in terms of “classical” concert music? What will the early 21st century have in store for the public, audiences, music ensembles, and composers in the new millennium? The beginning of a new century is an opportune time to take a snapshot of the contemporary music scene as it existed at the end of the century, and to postulate about some of possible directions that a future music may propel us in.

I have a personal stake in this musical future, since I am a composer. The monumental event of a musical tradition transitioning into a new century is something that really excites me. I will talk about music producers (a.k.a. composers), performers (a.k.a. musicians), and consumers (a.k.a. the concert going public).

A music tradition is made not by individuals, but by a collection of active participants in the commerce of a musical culture. As a composer, I supposedly have a unique role in the creation, direction, and influence of musical trends, patterns, and styles. From my vantage point, the musical scene today is in need of a major redefinition, reorientation, and rejuvenation. But, before we can discuss what music should be like in the 21st century, we need to look briefly at what happened during the last quarter of the now fading 20th century.

As a close observer of the musical trends and tendencies in American “new music” since 1975, I can say that pluralism was both the engine that drove musical activity and experimentation, and the reason why collectively, music composition has apparently lost steam as a vital art form. A composer, after WW2, would have belonged to one of two primary musical camps: Schoenbergian or Stravinskyian. This polarization, which today seems ludicrous, became entrenched in the infrastructure of higher music education and concert performance. Unfortunately, this initial cesium parted the waters of musical expression for many, and the inevitable seeds of musical disintegration were sewn. Many diverse and obscure schools of musical thought ensued, some interesting, some absurd. The events of 20th century music are well documented by musicologists, who have been able to observe, formalize, and sometimes fire the flames of the evolution and rapid ghettoization of an international new music culture – in “real time.”

At the end of the 20th century, audiences and composers alike could pick and choose from a wide variety of musical styles and modes of expression. This tendency has also been enhanced by the proliferation throughout the world of information and recordings about previously unknown musical traditions, and by cross-fertilization between classical and vernacular music venues. The richness of musical expression and the overwhelming quantity of this new and interesting music are the real story of the later 20th century. Not only could one metaphorically eat at any kind of restaurant, but also the fare was much more than simply Schoenberg or Stravinsky (Chicken or Beef?).

Digestion is a different matter however. As a student, I was overloaded by the vastness of it all, and I have witnessed the concert going public gradually become (even more) baffled and confused about new music. Their dwindling numbers at concerts are an indication of the systemic nature of the problem. There is an accompanying adverse affect from the loss of interest by the public: A lowering of musical energy, quality and standards amongst the music producers – the composers themselves. The wide selection of musical sub-cultures is somewhat synonymous with the cable station that offers a 100-plus viewing channels day and night– with nothing of real value on any of them. But, with so much music to choose from, why are we so musically deprived and impoverished?

The answer is complex, and the blame can not be directed toward any particular group. The tone of the rhetoric has intensified, and the theater of battle has expanded from a few uninsightful music critics, to an ever-growing number of composers competing for a limited resource of awards, commissions, the attention of a few sympathetic performers, and even a chance to utter verbal sound bytes on National Public Radio (NPR).

I recently just listened to an interview on NPR with a very successful American “minimalist” composer. He did not confine the explanation of his music to his own musical credo and rational, but went the extra mile to quite viciously attack the academic musical establishment for unilaterally preaching the party line of Arnold Schoenberg. He (the minimalist composer) said that both he and the public found 12-tone music “greatly unsatisfying.” It was almost as if he - now highly successful and part of the musical mainstream - wanted to expunge any remaining vestiges of 12-tone music that may still exist.

Now you should know where I stand. I am an advocate of the music of Schoenberg and of his students (actual or indirectly influenced). I am also an advocate of the late serial music of Igor Stravinsky. Much blossomed from Schoenberg and Stravinsky’s respective serial music periods. Their seminal ideas and aesthetic, while not fully in agreement with each other, represent the single most important development in music during the 20th century.

Personally, I can not understand why the aforementioned “minimal” composer on NPR (with a similar educational background as myself), would lump together the rich repertory and history of 12-tone and atonal music from our common collective musical tradition and simply label it as “unsatisfying.” I couldn’t disagree more! My only guess it that this particular sound byte strikes a knee jerk reactive resonant chord with the general public, and that this was an intentionally calculated comment intended to justify his own abandonment of complex music. I believe even the musically naive will sense the broad range of emotive power and artistic merit inherent in composers as diverse as Schoenberg, Berg, Webern, (late) Stravinsky, Sessions, Dallapiccola, Carter, Babbitt, Martino and Wolpe. I’ve never met anyone that has listened to a composition by Dallapiccola and found it “greatly unsatisfying.” While you may not like everything by all of these composers, you have to concede that serial music can be wonderful, elegant, and unique in the hands of a master musician.

The NPR sound byte battle is not strictly limited to composers exchanging torpedoes with one another. Musicologists are often soldiers in the war. On another, unrelated NPR radio program, an author of a recent book on Aaron Copland talked about Copland’s life and work. At one point, he played only a few seconds from of a piece out of Copland’s 12-tone period, at which point the musicologist immediately interjected and dismissed all of Copland’s serial music as an aberrant failure. He “excused” Copland for his lapse in artistic judgment, since 12-tone music – like Communism – was an idiotic rage of the 1950’s and 60’s that few composers could escape or evade. He added that two dominant totalitarian systems of the last century (12-tone music and Communism) were both proven wrong.

The analogy between Communism and 12-tone music is not new. It has persisted since the beginning as an easy way to make a headline, and stir up irrational hostile feelings toward serial music in general. Just recently, two composers were quoted in the New York Times making this same analogy, and reaping the self-serving short-term benefits of debasing their colleagues. The analogy also serves another function of creating an image of a few old, embittered, card-carrying 12-tone composers, persisting in their ill-fated musical ways regardless of the march of time, which has left them in complete isolation and disregard. While some composers may be old, if they are embittered, it is because of the McCarthy-like tactics often deployed by critics, musicologists, and unsympathetic self-serving composers who ruthlessly invalidate and annihilate their work.

So we see that the disintegration of music along many different party lines has created artistic friction and irrational hostility within the population of producers of music (i.e. composer political infighting). This struggle is magnified by the medium, usually a music performance organization under intense economic pressure to survive, and yet trying to keep music composition alive because they have a social obligation to do so. Traditional music organizations – symphony orchestras for example - are essentially hostile to complex music. New music is expensive to produce (requiring more rehearsals), and sometimes not well received by the public. The connection between the producers of music and the performers of music in many cases is strained by the economic implications of performing it with the investment in rehearsal time it requires. Hard pieces don’t get played, so there is regretfully a filtering and attenuation of the work and ideas by composers who choose to express themselves by composing music that is also co-incidentally expensive to produce. This results in a bias against complex music simply because it is difficult to perform. Simple music however is limited by its potential for depth and, as a result, is often artistically shallow.

The sorry relationship that producers of complex music can have with musical performers is well known, although this may be salvageable in the first few decades of the next century. However, the dysfunctional relationship between composers and their public has regrettably become socially ingrained, and is a major impediment to the natural flow of musical evolution. The lack of interest in new music in general affects the musical arts greatly. Even the minorities of composers that have achieved modest notoriety (but probably not basic economic viability - in most cases) are under-performed, under-valued, and generally ignored by the public. The public, confused by the mixed messages from a barrage of musical “isms” and suffering from music-information overload, is trying to take it in with a very limited budget of free time, and can’t adequately assimilate and process the music to their, the performers, or the composers, satisfaction.

There were a couple of “bad boys” of music composition in the 20th century that became very influential and controversial. These radicals often made their points in prose rather than traditionally notated music. In the later part of the century, anything and everything was attempted and common sense and fundamental musical ability often was discarded in the process. There was also a strong backlash to the silliness of these extremes, often resulting in an equally polarized and reactionary stance. The late 20th century revealed the New Romanticism, the New Simplicity, and the New Tonality. Most of this was an insipid rehashing of the clichés of old music, in a pitiful attempt to recapture once again the sentimentality that simplistic tonal music could provide. This movement – not yet dead - was reinforced by the strong academic influence of the academy which has always stressed the practices of traditional counterpoint and harmony as composition, and a public that found it easier to hear in the framework of a paradigm of music more closely associated with the Classical or Romantic era than their own.

Many may disagree with my particular views on contemporary music, but my observation about how it has gradually dissolved into its own ether at the end of the 20th century is pretty evident to anyone that takes the time to observe. What does this mean for serious concert music producers, performers, and consumers of the 21st century? Can it get any worse than it is currently? Is serious new music of quality a dead art?

There are some promising signs that a new culture of credible and sustainable music activity is upon us. Small, yet specialized contemporary music performance ensembles have sprung up in some cities, often with no or little subsidy. They are comprised of highly capable, dedicated musicians that make new music their religion. These islands of opportunity are not completely spontaneous, since they are often instigated by self-interested composers or composer-musicians. However, the quality of both the compositions and of their performances is exceptional. The numbers of these independent-performing organizations is growing. It has become a phenomenon.

Independently produced and distributed CD recordings have almost become the normal distribution method for new and experimental music. Amazon.com has begun selling independently produced CDs on their commercial web site thus equalizing the distribution advantage of the big-business mega-recording companies. Taking as a starting premise that the objective of CD distribution is not to get anyone rich, but is intended solely to communicate, promote, and propagate one’s musical ideas, then the goal of independent recordings has already succeeded. The ubiquity of low volume CD reproduction services, along with inexpensive ad hoc disk burning technologies, make low volume CDs on demand a viable micro-music-industry. The Internet and WWW will further enhance the information flow between music producers and consumers by allowing even the most obscure communities of niche music enthusiasts to exchange ideas, compositions, and recordings. New technologies are furthering the revolution. Already, sounds (.mp3) and scores (.pdf) can easily be downloaded from the web, often at no cost. The musical establishment is no longer needed to subsidize, legitimize, or scrutinize the producer of music.

As a composer, I am cautiously optimistic about the future of music, although my particular vision of 21st century music composition is possibly different than that of some of my colleagues. I encourage music producers (composers) to simply write the music they want to hear, and not to get embroiled in the politics, cultural noise, and obvious career competition that has been so destructive to the profession. I encourage music performers to take a chance on new music, not be driven by the bottom line or first impressions. And finally, I encourage – even challenge – the concert going public (consumers) to actively seek out new music and become involved with it emotionally and intellectually. Without the public, no creative music will survive – neither good nor bad.

I don’t want to leave the impression that composers think about these issues every time they sit down to write a note of music. Our egos are large, but our brains are not large enough to contemplate the inner workings of all the aspects of a new musical work in progress, and simultaneously triangulate the position of its cultural context and economic potential in the constantly evolving, vast musical repertory of mankind. We do take moments from time to time, usually between pieces, and often at demarcation points in history – such as the onset of a new century - to speculate about our role and place in the universe as thinking composers.

1/2000

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Saturday, September 6, 2008

Toys

New ideas often originate on the West Coast. California has a history of trend setting and innovation, and toys are no exception.

My generation grew up with the Hula Hoop and Frisbee - both of which were popularized by California's WHAM-O toy company in the 1950's.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hula_hoop

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frisbee

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wham-O

Also popular in my time were Skateboards, and I had an early retail version of one. I gave up my aspirations to become a professional skateboarder when I landed flat on my face and broke a tooth.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skateboard




But new toys are always being invented, and the latest seems to be the Japanese contraption called the Kendama. It's not new to Japan, where it is believed to have appeared in the Edo period (1603-1868). Historians think the top is derived form the 16th century bilboquet popular in France. It then migrated to Nagasaki Japan via the Silk Road trading route.

At first, it was adopted as a drinking game played by adults, where at each mistake a player was forced to take another sip of Saké.

Since then Kendama has as evolved to be a very serious sport in Japan, and it appears to have recently caught in a big way with American teenagers.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kendama

http://web-japan.org/kidsweb/virtual/kendama/kendama02.html


YouTube is filled with Kendama videos...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1dlBMS388k

Joseph's Kendama arrived this week, and he quickly became addicted to it. All of his friends have one, and it seems to be more of a draw than even XBox 360.

Will Kendama become the next hula hoop, frisbee, or skateboard? I don't know, but it seems to have the attraction, youth-appeal, and potential.

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Monday, August 25, 2008

Briggs & Briggs

I sold vinyl.

For a period in the mid-1980's after the music department at Brandeis kicked me out for loitering, I had to find gainful employment. I ended up in retail sales selling phonograph records in Harvard Square.

A few of my more talented colleagues at Brandeis had been more fortunate. They landed professorships at Princeton, MIT, UC Davis, and Harvard. But for those of us who had to find alternatives, the family-run music store Briggs & Briggs readily accepted a steady stream of aspiring musicians and starving composers with open arms. We were classical music refugees looking for a home and a modest income. Briggs & Briggs offered us a community to live in, and minimum wage.

The Briggs & Briggs Music Store (Established 1890) was at the heart of Harvard Sq. Although it was said that Briggs never existed, the shop was owned and operated by the Humphreys family since 1927. The "old man" (or Mr. B) paced around pretending to be useful, while his sons would run the operation. Fred handled the sheet music and scores at street-level. His brother would manage the audio department downstairs in the basement. Given that the owners did not have any formal knowledge about music, it was up to the employees to run the show...and we did. But the Humprhreys were decent people, and what they lacked in musical knowledge was made up by their personal integrity and commitment.





Briggs & Briggs at 1270 Mass Ave in Cambridge in 1999


For me, the dusty and worn music shop looked like something out of the 1950's or earlier. Tucked away high on a shelf was an antique plaster statue of Nipper, RCA's iconic dog listening to his trademark Victrola ("His Master's Voice").




We also used an antique cash register, and had to calculate the total amount, plus sales tax on each purchase while simultaneously advising another customer on the pros-and-cons of available recordings of the complete Beethoven Sonatas.

The staff was comprised of an amazing collection of characters. There was Ruth - the soon to retire manager of the Record Department - who was functionally already in retirement. She would sit behind the desk with a scowl and flip through tattered and worn index cards - which served as the sole inventory system and product database. I never saw her smile.

Ruth's successor-elect and de facto heir to the Record Department Manager position was John. John was (and is) a modernist poet. A transplant to Boston from Texas, he had gone to university for law but some how ended up as a Bohemian artist, writing poetry and listening to classical music. His wife Anne, a musician and music researcher in the making would often drop by and join in on the excitement. John had an obsession with military history and terminology, and was apt to make analogies and comparisons as such. He thought strategically, but usually acted with benevolence and charm. However on occasion, when a customer got out of line or became obnoxious or unreasonable, John would put on his uniform and flex his military prowess.

One such episode occurred when a Harvard undergraduate returned an expensive multi-record set of an opera. He said that there was surface noise on the vinyl. As manager, John accepted the record back and allowed him to take a fresh shrink-wrapped copy of the set. The next day the student returned again complaining that the new set had the same problem. John politely explained that he would probably find the same issue with any phonograph record, but the student became obnoxious and persisted with his demand to exchange his "defective" records. Finally John exploded in anger and in non-compromising terms informed the student that he was no longer allowed to shop at Briggs & Briggs. He had been banned from the store. The student, having lost his battle, retreated in disgrace.

Many who worked at Briggs & Briggs, such as Ruth, had been there for decades. The Humphreys had grown up working in the shop and been there all of their lives. My short tenure began when Tom Ryan, a violinist, resigned to study early music in Europe with Kuijken. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigiswald_Kuijken. (Tom is the elder brother cellist Dan Ryan of Musician's of the Old Post Road).

Briggs & Briggs never advertised, never had sales, and never played music in the shop. It was considered too much of a distraction for the hardcore music aficionados who worked there or frequented as clients. It was a way of avoiding fist-fights over which recording to play. Silence is golden. But word-of-mouth advertising and random street traffic kept the store afloat. I do remember that Richard Dyer once wrote a nice article about the store for the Boston Globe.

For professional musicians, Briggs & Briggs was a consistent and dependable source of artistic nourishment. At some point every musician in town would be obliged to visit the store to purchase sheet music and/or recordings. There weren't very many alternative music outlets in the Boston/Cambridge area at that time. In an era before the Tower Records and HMV superstores came to Boston, Briggs & Briggs offered a solid selection and personal service.

I remember some of the notable musicians would stop by to acquire a new recording or just to chat. The late Patricia Zander, a pianist who accompanied the young up-and-coming cellist from Harvard named Yo-Yo. Conductor Ben Zander would drop in too, and he would usually create a stir. I remember that he was very forceful in his request to put a large poster for his forthcoming concert prominently in the window. John held his ground against it, although Zander exerted the force of a tornado. http://www.benjaminzander.com/



Another time, after helping a customer find some Renaissance choral music, I took his credit card. It read "Nelson Goodman." I looked up and inquired "are you the Nelson Goodman - the philosopher?" He looked surprised, but replied "yes." When I told him that I had just finished reading his book Languages of Art and was very impressed with it, he came back and replied "that makes two of you - you and my wife." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelson_Goodman

I remember other "visitors" such as composer/conductor "Olie" Knussen, British musicologist Arnold Whittall, and Dutch pianist/accompanist Tan Crone (who studied at NEC).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Knussen

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tan_Crone

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-url?%5Fencoding=UTF8&search-type=ss&index=books&field-author=Arnold%20Whittall

Apparently, in the 1930's Duke Ellington had dropped into the store and played a few numbers on the piano.

Celebs would drop in as well. I remember chatting about leftist politics with Abby Rockefeller as she picked up some folk recordings prior to her visit to Cuba. One night Joan Kennedy (Ted's Ex) and her boyfriend walked in just seconds before the 6 PM closing time. Joan is an amateur pianist and classical music advocate. She autographed my coffee-stained napkin from Au Bon Pain before leaving, and to this day I still have it.

John stayed ahead of the curve by reading Gramophone cover-to-cover every month, and ordering all of the new releases as soon as they were available. This gave us a slight edge over our main competitor - the Harvard Coop - which was larger but less efficient and not as personal. The Coop did have a dynamite expert in vocal music - mezzo soprano Pamela Dellal - who trumped our expertise in operatic music quite decisively. http://home.earthlink.net/~dellalsansom/pdbio.htm But, Briggs & Briggs had a penchant for recordings of the more esoteric and obscure forms of expression: avant garde contemporary music, early music, world music, and anything off-beat and bizarre.


Often customers would come into the store looking for the most obscure and unobtainable items. John prided himself on going the extra mile to obtain these recordings on special order. But customers would often listen to WGBH's Robert J., who had a habit of playing and specifically recommending selections from CDs that were out-of-print, not distributed to stores (i.e. Musical Heritage Society), or just not available in America. For this reason Robert J. was the "bane of our existence." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_J._Lurtsema

Everyone had their own personal clientele. I remember a blind man who would come and consult with exclusively with John about recordings of classical piano music. He would listen exclusively to Haydn, Mozart, and perhaps SOME Beethoven. That was about it. John tried to get him to broaden his scope of listening, but ultimately the customer couldn't escape the comfort zone of that particular period of music. (I guess that if you are going to be limited to one stylistic period, that is not a terrible place to be stuck in).

My "clients" included Boston-area composers. I remember selling a truck-load of modern music records to a then emerging composer Susan Blaustein, including the complete Alban Berg set on DG.

Sales people from the record distributors would drop by periodically, or call in for their orders. I remember visits from Dennis Miller - composer, organizer of Boston ISCM, and presently a media artist and music professor at Northeastern University. http://www.music.neu.edu/Faculty/Miller/Dennis_Miller.html

John would skillfully negotiate our purchases in such as way as to maximize the number of "promos" we would receive. In lieu of a decent salary, we would be fed a constant stream of new releases as demos, and my formative record collection of today was built largely with this perk. But even with this fringe benefit, we would often spend a sizable chunk of our meager weekly salary on additional records or scores, which the Humphreys would kindly provide to employees at cost.

For for lunch hour I would often step out the door and head over to the Yenching Chinese restaurant nearby for the bargain MSG lunch special. It's still there today. In nice weather I'd sit outdoors at Au Bon Pain, and watch activity around the Chess Master. Surprisingly, after all these years and changes in Harvard Square, the Yenching restaurant and the Chess Master (Mr. Murray Turnbull) are still around.

Turnbull has been sitting there since 1982, rain or shine, hot or cold. He keeps a "super-soaker" water gun by his side to ward off pigeons that aim for him or his chess board. The hat he wears is functional.


http://www.cynical-c.com/?p=8155


Sometimes for lunch I'd go just next door to Bartley's for a burger and fries. http://www.mrbartley.com/ While the prices have gone up over the decades, the atmosphere and great taste remain. My favorite item was a burger on their menu with lettuce, tomato, onion, and Russian dressing.

Working at Briggs & Briggs was convenient too. I was essentially homeless, but fortunately for the duration I could sublet the rent-controlled apartment of composer Ezra Sims a few doors down the street at 1168 Mass Ave while he was out to the country on a fellowship. It was only a 2 minute walk to work. Alternatively I would house sit for wealthy people in Cambridge who needed a caretaker.

Sometimes it was hard to tell where the world of Harvard Square street performers ended and the sanctuary of the music store began (although there was a subway-like turnstyle that marked the boundary into and out of the record department). I recall that one regular customer, Mark DeVoto (now Professor of Music emeritus at Tufts University), grabbed a portable electronic keyboard and began banging out a vigorous blues. http://www.tufts.edu/~mdevoto/Biography.htm Everyone in the store, staff and customers alike, were greatly entertained.

Change is inevitable. A new technology was on the horizon. A thin silvery disk arrived one day, and mystified us all. It was called the Compact Disk or "CD" for short. Everyone looked at it with awe, and a degree of scepticism. How could this new media ever catch on? For one thing, it was so expensive, and so little music was available on it. It was also hard to display in the store with its awkward packaging, and the liner notes were so small that you needed a magnifying glass to read them. Yet the LP had replaced 78's. Perhaps the CD would eventually replace the LP. The sound quality was reported to be superior, and listeners wouldn't have to deal with annoying pops, scratches, and skips inherent with vinyl records. Another big selling point was that CDs don't need to be flipped over or changed as frequently as records. Our future as vinyl salesmen was about to change - forever.

John, who was ultimately promoted to Manager, was an early adapter of the CD, and for a time successfully rode the wave of new product releases in the digital format. After Christmas I left my position at the store to pursue other things, and was replaced in the record department by yet another Brandeis composer (Stephen Clarke?) with a penchant for Expressionism (he later set some of John's poems to music). Stephen had an artistic flair, and made beautiful custom signs for the record and CD bins. Eventually John left the store when his wife Anne got a teaching job in Chicago and transitioned the Record Department Manager role over to Steve (who is now at Barnes and Noble at the The Harvard Coop).

Briggs & Briggs was forced to leave the Mass. Ave. location across the street from Harvard in 1999. The landlord raised the rent beyond reason. It is now an Adidas sports store. The Humphreys downsized and relocated for a time into a storefront up the road in Porter Square. But this didn't last for long, and Fred Humphreys was forced close the store for good in the year 2000. All that remains is the memory.

You can read more about the demise of Briggs & Briggs, in the Harvard Crimson... http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref=100483

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I am not John Adams

It has happened more than once. Over the course of the years people have approached me at contemporary music concerts and timidly introduced themselves. When they learn that I am not John Adams the renowned American composer, they usually back off in disappointment.


Once at a new music festival at Lincoln Center in the 1980's a young composition student approached me. He started talking to me as if I were John Adams. After I explained that I wasn't the composer he thought I was, he thought I was pulling his leg. He was certain that I was in fact John Adams, but did not want to admit it to him.

I've secretly wondered if any of my fans have approached John Adams and mistaken him for me.
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Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Rembrandt's "Nightwatch"


The Nightwatch by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1642)
Now, at the Rembrandt Square in Amsterdam...

Nightwatch 3D
22 life-sized bronze figures by Russian artists Alexander Taratynov and Mikhail Dronov created over a period of six years. It was created to celebrate the 400 years since Rembrandt's birth. The statues were created in Moscow and transported to Amsterdam in 2006.
It's nice to be there,"walk into the painting," and see each figure from differing angles. It's a unique visual experience. The original Rembrandt statue in the square stands high over the new Nightwatch figures, looking on from his pedestal with approval.
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It's not a far walk over to the Rembrandt House (now a museum). He had quite an impressive operation going on in that enormous home/studio. I found it interesting that people slept in enclosed wooden box beds sitting upright. It was commonly believed that if you lied down, blood would rush to your head and kill you.





http://www.rembrandthuis.nl/cms_pages/index_main.html

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