Varekai

"Deep within a forest, at the summit of a volcano, exists an extraordinary world - a world where something else is possible. A world called Varekai." -- Cirque du Soleil website

Varekai was absolutely magical. The Royal Albert Hall was perfect for it, and the set was magnificant, with a forest of bamboo canes at the back for the performers to climb in. The huge white balloon with shifting shapes inside and the tiny green lights which danced overhead and fell from the ceiling were beautiful. The music was gorgeous too. The performers, though, were indescribable - they defied the laws of gravity and all the constraints of the human body, and at the same time, they made it look graceful and effortless.

My favourite was the aerial straps, watching it gave me that breathless feeling like standing on top of a mountain and shouting into the wind. Matt's comment was "They're brothers? That just makes it hotter!". The triple trapeze, the water meteors (three small Chinese boys doing acrobatics with rope staff), the Georgian dance, the Icarian Games (human juggling, basically) and the traditional juggling were also amazing.

I am a little bit sad that I'll never be able to soar or balance or spin like they can, but then it must be a tough life. It all looks so easy, but the concentration, strength and fearlessness required must be immense. I should get practicing with my poi!

The asymmetry between science and art

Tim and I went to an exhibition called Laughing in a Foreign Language today, which supposedly was an exploration of how humour translates across the language barrier. It did not thrill and delight. Tim and I found any humour entirely lacking in any of the exhibits, and in fact, there seemed to be a predominance of what I will call "whine-art". Whine-art is when people who don't really have much to complain of set out to find something which makes them feel unhappy or isolated and make something out of it which they claim is art.

I did learn some interesting things though. It turns out (and this is from a fairly large sample) that I vastly prefer Japanese and Scandanavian art to all the other nationalities of artists, proving that there are indeed cultural differences. Japanese and Scandanavians seem to create more aesthetically pleasing art, and to take themselves less seriously.

I also came to the conclusion that there is a huge asymmetry between art and science. Scientists can often understand, appreciate and create art, whereas artists seem entirely dismissive of and uninterested in the realm of science. I was dismayed by an exhibit which confused astronomy with astrology (literally, his point was that most constellations don't look like what they're supposed to be, therefore astronomy was rubbish), and then went on to dismiss science out of hand. Tim had to try to calm me down, get me to stop shouting obscenities and to leave the gallery. I think it's a great shame that artists don't try to understand and interpret the world around them more, and draw on the beauty of science, rather than just being self-absorbed and whiny.