The Fredösphere

First of all:  my duet setting of Psalm 46 was performed in two different places yesterday.  That's cool.  Thanks to Alan and Brian for making it happen.

Anyway, we got a copy of My Architect from the library and liked it a lot.  Or rather, we liked it as much as one can like a story that is depressing and true.  Nathaniel Kahn made this documentary as a tribute to his father, the towering architectural genius Louis I. Kahn -- and as an exposé of his double life (triple life, really) and the shameful way he treated his wife, three children and two mistresses.

Lot's of people have admired this documentary -- or, at least found it provocative enough to write at length about it.  (I'm with Michael on one point:  I don't get the Sauk Institute.)  Rather than write a redundant review, I'll just say "me too" to the admirers and mention one scene:  An architect from Bangladesh becomes teary-eyed as he attributes the founding of his nation's government to the beneficent influence of the capitol building, a huge complex designed by Kahn.  He understands Nathaniel's loss to be his country's gain, and tries to assuage the son's pain by assuring him of the building's greatness, and of the necessity of the payoff -- all great men (so he asserts) treat badly those closest to them.  Sorry, buddy; the intention is generous, but the logic is rotten.  It amounts to this:  "you had to suffer that this building could exist, but that's okay, because this building is more important than you."

If you are inclined to believe all great artists must be jerks, you may add that architect's testimony to your collection of supporting evidence.  As for me, I'm not buying it.