A different pattern.

{Gioachino Rossini}

In conscious shake-up of pattern, last night I went to the opera, to see Elijah Moshinsky’s production of The Barber of Seville (opera in two acts by Gioachino Rossini). With a little cajoling, I dispensed with the evening’s planned framework and instead of by computer tweaking files on a new puppet style zine, I found myself at the State Theatre watching the grand parade in all its powdered, theatrical, bright costumed glory. Sometimes it is good to mix things up, and this, with push, it must be said, is what I did. This vegetarian teetotaller partook in a pre-show serve of beer-battered fish and chips and glass of chardonnay at the Café Vic in large Tuesday shake-up, and with full belly and rosy cheeks thought how good it is to sometimes do what you might otherwise not have done. Familiar patterns can easily become ruts and thus sometimes need a little picking up by the neck scruff shaking about. With lucky gifted ticket in hand, this, friends, is how I found myself in the very front row of the theatre, in the very middle of the row, watching the bright spectacle of it all. The conductor pulls himself up on the railing before me. Two hands appearing first, and then a head, like a swimmer emerging from a pool, and such close proximity is both fascinating and amusing even if forewarned. From such a seat, I can watch the conductor dance, most of the orchestra play in the pit, and the performers on the stage. It feels deliciously almost as though they are performing just for me. I can see every rise and fall of José Carbó’s elegant rhythmical moustache and I can hear the conductor Andrea Licata’s humming and trumm-paaarum-pummm soundings as he bobs and bounces and sways. I can see the stage set in detail, and those bold wallpaper patterns from the red and white diagonal bands of the barber’s trade to forward floral prints anchored by black, with their large flower faces a lolly gum-pink and sun-yellow. But best of all, the sound of all this, of all these elements, of the unexpected experience and famed thrill of live performance, all this coming together so terrifically loudly. The hush after the performance, after the applause, after the orchestra have packed up their instruments, the hush is amazing. Out into the quiet night we go.


{Without being out of tune, Testing the laws of hazard (i), And with that, she sets off on the journey home, and All that's bewitching by the water. Four of sixteen new iPhone cases featuring some very familiar faces.}

In further break from routine, Louise and I have created several iPhone cases and iPhone and iPod skins through Society6. Explore the full lineup at your leisure, and thanks for your enthusiasm thus far.

+ The Barber of Seville was first performed at the Teatro Argentina, Rome, on the 20th of February 1816. "In the finale a cat wandered onto the stage, prompting the audience to break out into loud miaows" (Judith Armstrong, 2012, from Opera Australia's The Barber of Seville programme).