Last night I went to the Chairmen's Reception at the ROM.
Got there late - the Crystal Court was packed with hundreds of nicely dressed people behaving nicely. Scooped up a glass of Shiraz, headed straight for the nibblies: small plates, mini-pizzas, salads, and much competition for the lamb ribs when they arrived.
Suddenly, a loud crack! followed by a spectacular collapse of one of the buffet tables - under the weight of a huge ceramic decorative planter containing elaborate foliage. People recoiled. Heads turned. I don't have other buffet table collapses to compare it with, but I think this one would rank right up there with the best for the effect it had.
The reception followed, so we vacated the Court. We honoured the major donors and celebrated the successes of Renaissance ROM. Board of Governors Chairman James Temerty, in his speech, referred to what he called the "dual mandate" of the institution - the arts and the natural world. Hazel was in the room, we were told; a tiny hand went up near the stage and waved, Queen Mum like. A short video of some of the people involved in the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibition followed. Thorsell spoke. Someone closely connected with the scrolls spoke. Then we were let loose on the exhibition itself, and filed downstairs.
Well, not much to report really. Lots of supergraphics - quotes and the like - printed on large faux stone walls, small examples of glass, and some mostly unadorned ceramics ( including a rather fine earthenware goblet that reminded me of the work of mid-20th century designers Lucie Rie and Hans Coper ) from the period, a nice fly-through animation of Herod's renovated Temple Mount ( a minimalist wonder, it doubled the size of the place ), a few cases with scroll-wrapping material, a video interview. Crowd reaction was somewhat muted, and the traffic flowed onwards fairly quickly.
Then, the scrolls themselves, housed in an area screened off behind a black scrim, where light levels were suddenly drastically diminished.
I could see several boxy display cabinets. Above each was a photographic blow-up of scrolly bits, with annotated translations. I moved from one display to the next, peering down into the even deeper pools of gloom, barely able to make out the shape of a small brown thing that roughly approximated the shape of the large blow-up above it. There was writing on each of these small shapes, I'm sure.
Then on, past a few small bibles displayed in cabinets, and out. Back upstairs in time for a few fruit-on-skewers things, a globular cheesecake thing on a stick, and some decaf.
And so, home.
but not necessarily so with all Bruckner... definitely true of Bruckner's 8th and 9th.
