Tantalizing Fragments

A few things I didn't have time to note down or work into the flow:

Kites. Tiny kites dot the sky. A national pasttime? These kites are quite small and flimsy, and the kids who fly them slice them through the air on short strings rather than let them soar high up.

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I've exposed Dito's alter ego as the Most Famous Drag Queen in Philadelphia. Much you-tubing of Martha Graham Cracker's exploits at the Pig Iron cabaret. One night, Cesar takes us to the finals — the finals! — of a drag competition (youth category) at “Le Boy… by Gilles,” a club downtown. Men, $10. Women, $100 to get in. To our surprise, the event is sparsely attended, and the four contestants are uniformly unimpressive.

Hearing about Enrique's early training in Paris at the Decroux school. Eating at a neighborhood Japanese restaurant exactly like Dojo once was in the East Village: cheap and only nominally Japanese, with hearty miso soup supercharged with thick slices of vegetable.

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The Bar do Mineiro in Santa Teresa. A “gathering place for artists and intellectuals,” according to the photocopy of Lonely Planet pasted on the wall. The owner is a mad collector, of model streetcars, large cast iron pots, that kind of thing. Former gardener.

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A visit to the Museum of Art Brut, with its focus on “naive”, self-taught painters, at the base of the iconic Corvacado statue. A large international group is there, with badges, from all over the world. “What's the conference?” I ask. “International Association of Semi-Conductor Engineers.” Oh. I guess they like to go see naive art, too, in their spare time.

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An exchange between Cesar and me about something our companies share: an interest in putting the process on stage, making the art-maker a character — both of us have these plays that are both rehearsal and play, the seams show. “This way,” Cesar says, “it's more honest.” Exacty, I nod.