Wanderer above a Sea of Interconnections
Delving into the magical cultural links of the week
Gratitude and admin (a heady combination)
Before we get stuck into today’s interconnection-laden newsletter, I wanted to say an enormous thank you for welcoming me back to Substack so wholeheartedly over the past couple of weeks. I can’t pretend that I haven’t spent an inordinate amount of time thinking of and planning for a return to sharing my words here, and then backing off again—returned once more to the kid at the edge of the playground moving in time to the rhythm of the huge skipping rope, but not quite finding the courage to run in and get jumping, no matter how much fun it looks. [Don’t mind me, I’ll go and make a daisy chain instead.] Your response has made the return to writing feel seamless and joyous and actually quite easy after all. Genuinely, thank you.
I love to know when you’ve watched a film or series I’ve recommended, or bought a book I mentioned (and bonus Claire points if it’s for your grandchild ❤️)—that really is the reason I share all this here, to connect people with ‘good things’ (hopefully in a vaguely entertaining fashion). There is so much online noise, so much to navigate through and choose from, and if I can use my discerning superpowers to point you in the direction of something worth your time and energy then that makes me very happy indeed.
And to those who’ve been asking about paid subscriptions, thank you. I will be turning those back on this weekend as a way you can support my writing. (Think of it as buying me a monthly coffee!) If you were supporting my newsletter before my ‘hiatus’ and no longer wish to continue, heads up go and cancel now with absolutely no hard feelings from me, in fact just a huge amount of gratitude. Showing up to support me at the very start of my Substack journey meant a lot and will always be remembered.
Anyway, on with the show.
Words and pictures
I mentioned last week that I was currently enjoying Lore Segal’s Ladies’ Lunch and other stories, which randomly referenced two Jane Austen novels during an unexpectedly Austeny week. This week as I moved on to the ‘other stories’, I was stopped in my tracks by a description that felt so completely like a painting I seem to be constantly thinking about at the moment, Caspar David Friedrich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. I’ve been waffling on about this painting so relentlessly that my daughter has promised to find me a postcard of it. And then there it was, the image in words in the book before me. (And I suppose the reverse of the comment I enjoyed from the Austen historian last week, about heritage film adaptations making text into artwork).
You know you have reached the top of the mountain when you are looking at a new world, the existence of which, a moment ago, you could not have suspected, ranges upon ranges paling into the blue distance, and here a peak rising and a second and a third, the relation in which they stand to one another becoming familiar under the blue sky.
Segal is actually describing the culmination of a walk in the Austrian Alps she took with her father when she was a child.
The next day briefly scrolling through Notes here on Substack, Friedrich popped up again. Someone (immediately unfindable again, of course!) sharing photographs of people staring thoughtfully at his work (including my friend the Wanderer) in a new exhibition at The Met, Caspar David Friedrich: The Soul of Nature. While sadly I won’t be popping on the shuttle bus from Old York to New York for a casual meander around the galleries this weekend, I did find the exhibition website to peruse from my sofa and the accompanying book to add to my wishlist—aka an exciting (and foggy) new rabbit hole to disappear down!
Back to the future
My favourite mindblowing (to me!) interconnection of the week relates to something I’m looking forward to seeing … in 2036 (not a typo).
I was exceedingly fortunate to have a very theatre-ish set of Christmas presents this year. A subscription to NTathome (worth its weight in gold—I’ve already watched a stack of plays, which will no doubt feature in my newsletters at some point), and a ticket to see the RSC’s Twelfth Night at the end of December starring (Claire fave) Sam West as everyone’s favourite misery-turned-yellow-stockinged-show-off Malvolio.
It was absolutely brilliant—the perfect blend of wit and melancholy, with incredible stage design, and again something I will no doubt revisit here on Substack in greater detail in the future.
My third theatrical Christmas gift (very lucky me!) is one to look forward to. A ticket to see Gary Oldman performing Krapp’s Last Tape in York in April. Actual Gary Oldman! In actual York! In my birthday month! I mean, come on! As you can tell by the proliferation of exclamation marks, I am very excited about this. I’m not going to play pretentiously all knowing; I fully admit to never having heard of this Samuel Beckett play, but hey it’s Gary Oldman! I have now done my due theatregoer diligence (aka Googled the play) and it sounds excellent—structurally clever and very moving. A brief synopsis for those (like me) who don’t know Krapp’s Last Tape (from his first!): one man, one act—on his 69th birthday, a man who has recorded tapes on his birthday each year reflects on his life and decides to listen again to the tape he recorded on his 39th birthday. Apparently Stephen Rea has recently starred in the play in Dublin and is bringing it to the Barbican in London in May. But I will be there for Gary—in York—in April, and I cannot wait.
Forewarning: if you think I’ve been rather too excitable up to this point, you may need to sit down for this next bit (or probably, I should).
Just imagine my interconnection-loving heart leap for joy when I spotted this article in the Guardian earlier this week!
Yes, I kid you not, Sam West (of Claire favourite fame and recently seen expertly sliding down a fireman’s pole in yellow stockings and a santa hat) has announced that he will be performing Krapp’s Last Tape in 2036, when he actually turns 69, after having had the foresight at 39 to record the lines of Krapp the younger to be played on tape during the play—it will be the world’s first vocally authentic performance of the play! Apparently the BBC were charged with looking after the tape for thirty years and West won’t listen to it again until he prepares for the play. I’m undoubtedly a huge nerd, but I genuinely think this is seriously fantastic on every level!
There will be a limited number of ‘Extremely Early Bird’ tickets on sale from 13 April (Beckett’s birthday) this year! If I don’t manage to get one, please someone remember to give me a nudge in a decade’s time.
Or perhaps [strokes chin thoughtfully], I should record a reminder on a voice note now to play to myself in ten years’ time?
If your week has been brightened by any cultural synchronicities then do let me know in the comments. Have you been followed around by a piece of music? Haunted by an author (hopefully not literally)? Or can’t escape a particular film location? Share down below, you know I will fully appreciate the magic!
Wishing you all a wonderful weekend and thanks, as ever, for reading.
Brilliant piece Claire, your excitement just oozes from your words!
Another fabulous newsletter, Claire. I love your excitement and all these connections :)