Tag Archives: photos
Photo by bcostin, via Flickr.
BN Review has a nice write up of recent BBC wonder, Sherlock. This was by far the favorite television event of 2010 in Skinny House; not only did I see it early (and uncut) through nefarious means, I forced the rest of the household to watch it on successive Sunday evenings as it aired on Masterpiece Mystery. So it’s lovely to see the show getting a little highbrow love:
Sherlock, in which Cumberbatch stars, is a loving if heavily re-engineered adaptation of the well-known adventures of Holmes and Watson, which time-shifts its central pair a hundred years forward without so much as a backward glance at Victorian frippery, steampunked or otherwise. Instead, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat’s creation for the BBC and Masterpiece Mystery! remixes Conan Doyle’s detective stories for the era of GPS smartphones and CSI-style forensic labs. The tone is one of darkly deadpan comedy: a good many of the classic exchanges between the swift-thinking detective and his clay-footed friend John Watson (still a war-veteran doctor) are recast to milk laughs out of Martin Freeman’s mingled wonder and rue over his fate as a sidekick to a pale-skinned Byronic scarecrow who sports manners only slightly more acceptable than those of Hugh Laurie’s Dr. Gregory House.
They also recommend five books related to the great detective, at least one of which is going on my must-read-over-the-holidays list. Arthur Conan Doyle has been getting a lot of love on the site lately; my favorite columnist, Michael Dirda, recently featured an NYRB release of some of his non-Sherlock stories.
Alas, the bookshelf pictured above is not mine. If it were, that would mean I’d be busy reading Les Klinger’s annotated collection of the stories. (I keep meaning to ask for it for Christmas and forgetting, which is probably for the best, considering the amount of time I’d like to invest in pouring over them. But Klinger does have a few pieces of writing up on his site for perusal and general time-spending.) However, you can see me and good friend Ally at 221B Baker Street a few years ago. That was the day I convinced Ally of Holmes and Watson’s true and undying love for each other—over 2 years before Guy Ritchie got the same idea.
Next year should bring us more Sherlock, as Mark Gatiss tweeted a little while ago (and possibly/probably a sequel to the big budget version as well). It’s a good time for Baker Street, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Further Holmesian amusements:
I spent this morning getting 6 vials of blood drawn, but only after the nurse took about 10 minutes digging around in my arm, trying to pierce my vein. Not my biggest idea of fun — don’t let the tattoos fool you, I am terrified of getting stuck. Yeeuch.
Obviously a morning this terrible needs to be compensated for in a spectacular way. Mine? A ticket to the Philadelphia Orchestra to hear Ravel’s arrangement of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, followed by a trip to the Naked Chocolate Cafe.
As I’ve mentioned previously, I know pretty much nothing about classical music. But NPR is my occasional friend, and I’ve been in love with Pictures since I heard it one morning on a much-too-early drive to work. This rendition didn’t disappoint, but I did wish for more volume. I like to feel like the decibels are punching me in the gut.
The rooftop garden at the Kimmel was actually open today, so I got a chance to go up and take a peek. First thought: the elevator ride is scary but makes for an awesome view. (Design Philadelphia is setting up something rad-looking in the yard next to the Broad Street Ministry; I really want to know what it is!) Second thought: the garden is much less of a garden than I thought, but it’s still really neat. Trees in the sky!
The rooftop garden was warm, but the street was windy and chilly. When it’s cold, I live on hot chocolate. I’d read about the Naked Chocolate Cafe, and knew I just had to stop by and try their wares. I got a petit Aztec hot chocolate (mixed with nutmeg, cinnamon, and other spices) done in a European style (incredibly thick), and I picked up a chocolate and vanilla cupcake for later. The place is decadence to the extreme — my total bill for the 2 items was 6.75 + tip — but oh so worth it.
My previous post (the title of which is totally what I’m naming my Atlanta memoirs, btw) got me thinking about urban art projects and city ephemera. Luckily, I live in a neighborhood in Philly with scores of both.
When I first moved here, in the midst of the hottest August ever, my favorite thing in Fishtown was the summertime mural under the 95 overpass. The celebration of “Vacation” and “Chillin’” seems a little silly now that the air has gotten crisp, but when the temperatures were pushing 100 degrees everyday, the shade and the bright colors under that overpass really made the difference.
I was really hoping the mural would be a seasonal exhibit kind of thing, but who knows? We may still be looking at “Summertime” all winter long.
And for photos of my other favorite Philly mural project, check out A Love Letter For You. I used to see these everyday as I rode the MFL out to 69th Street, and I miss them now that I’ve given up on the environment and started driving.