Few things get me high these days. But as fabulous stage director, genius, and regular smart guy, Christoph Marthaler is in town, it has to be mentioned. That he is one of them. Favorites, that is. The ones that have special powers, that is. In terms of his capacity to make you think the very minute you’re ready to swoon from thinking too much. So, of course, I have a ticket to the Monday performance of “Schutz vor der Zukunft.” I let this slip, but, what I hope for, of course, is that such news might resound throughout the whole country. So, venerable people of Denmark, if you haven’t already had the chance to prove that you really do have good taste, here’s your moment. Get yourself a ticket. And should I recognize you among the crowd, and unless Marthaler himself will want to court me after the performance, we can go out for a stiff drink.

Marthaler, by Jove! He makes things move. He makes you move. Like the time when my husband, best friend, and I drove 10 hours without interruption to Mulhouse in France to see the same bloody performance of Die Schöne Müllerin, which we had previously seen in other countries. Three times in a row. Madness, I know. And yet. After France, the whole theater cast went touring in the US, and I couldn’t play groupie anymore – I do have a life in Denmark – working class, alas. But I did manage to persuade ZDF to make me a copy of the performance, which they had once recorded for German TV some years ago. Imagine that. I’m the only one who actually has the whole thing on DVD. (Among friends, if you want to see what I’m talking about, let me know, and I’ll lend you my copy.)

Setting things in motion. Yes, Marthaler even made me cook for myself today. I made venison hearts in ginger (a lot of it), garlic (ditto), turmeric (some), cardamom (a shit load of it), chilly (plenty), coriander, cumin, and a kalonji based mix (with foeniculum seeds and the like among the other stuff; also lots of it). All done in my priceless French pressure cooker that retains the special cocktail tomatoes thrown in as they are. Salad to go. Italian bread (no yeast, and al forno) dipped in the pot, and other such good olive oil. How about drinks, some of you will want to know. Well, contrary to expectation, stick to champagne is my advice. Then finish it off with fresh dates, walnuts that you smash yourself, and grès des vosges cheese. In culinary matters it’s important to be precise about the experience, and I take this type of experience very seriously, so yes, what is it that they say about there existing a specific number of heavens? Well, if I wasn’t in the 7th at the end of the affair, then definitely in the 6th. This may still change, however, as I still lick my fingers, thinking about today’s thinking and listening to a favorite recording of mine, Bach to Africa (Lambarena).

As I can’t share my special Marthaler DVD with the whole world (goddamned copy rights) here below is a taste of Bach instead.

Oh, life, in the face of anticipating standing in close proximity to genius, whatever we may think is impossible, becomes what the French call, une bagatelle.


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