Scent Opera at the Guggenheim Museum

Stewart Matthew has collaborated with perfumer Christophe Laudamiel and composers Nico Muhly and Valgeir Siggurdson to create an opera with an olfactive libretto. Scent and sound will weave a sensory spell before an audience ensconced in the dark.

Show times are Sunday, May 31st and Monday, June 1st at 7:30 PM. Tickets are priced at $30 ($25 for members and $10 for students). The museum is located at 1071 Fifth Avenue (at 89th Street). For more information, download the Spring 2009 "Works and Process" brochure on the museum's website.

In Memory of Karin Berg 1936-2006

Those of you who read Glass Petal Smoke regularly may have noticed Karin Berg's name in the dedication on the bottom of the page. Karin Berg was a personal friend who was born on January 5, 1936 and passed away on October 26, 2006. Her spirit has interesting ways of showing up in my life, especially on her birthday.

I just finished writing a letter to fellow blogger Caitlin Shortell, editor of Legerdenez, when Karin's memory bubbled up. After I finished the note I remembered it was Karin's birthday. The first online article I wrote appeared in the January 5, 2007 edition of Bois de Jasmin. The timing wasn't planned, but it was one of many synchronous things that happened on that day. I don't question this kind of "coincidence". There are some things in life that don't need explanation or proof, times when it's best to savor the flavor of mystery.

Though you may not have known Karin, you probably listened to many of the bands she signed to major record labels like Warner Brothers. I remember REM's first gig at Madison Square Garden because Karin invited me to join her (she signed them after they spent their indie years on IRS Records). There was a party after the show and I wound up cavorting with musicians and drinking beer with the B-52s in a Mexican bar in Tribeca. The list of talent Karin Berg recruited is miles long. Reading about her memorial service in The Villager gives you an idea of how many lives (and music collections) she touched.

Food was a big part of our friendship. I baked cookies for Karin regularly and she was hooked on Chocolate Voodoo Love, a spice cookie I invented that uses ingredients common to perfumery. This prompted a serious discussion that included the possibility of sending me to The French Culinary Institute for a degree in pastry arts (although I declined). Towards the end of her life Karin suffered from myositis, a degenerative disease with no known cure. As the disease progressed she found it hard for to breathe and needed the assistance of a portable oxygen tank. Hot and humid days were extremely difficult for her, but she refused to stop enjoying life. We had lunch at Fleur de Sel one summer, oxygen tank in tow. One of the fondest food memories I have was enjoying lobster roll with Karin at Mary's Fish Camp. I've managed to lure many colleagues in the fragrance industry to 64 Charles Street for a mouthwatering taste of lobster salad on a roll served a side of shoestring fries dusted in Old Bay Seasoning. The summer before she died, Karin and I ate our last meal together at her kitchen table; hamburgers and French fries delivered from Florent.

Karin was known for having stellar taste and when it came to perfume Chanel's Cuir de Russie was her holy grail. Though she no longer used fine fragrance (strong scents affected her breathing) she spoke about Cuir de Russie with intense relish. I was motivated to seek out the perfume and was immediately smitten with the scent. Karin was a catalyst in my life, in more ways than I can begin to describe. Though she could be rigorous and challenging at times, she had a way of bringing out the best in you. Perhaps it was this very quality that endeared her to the musicians whose talents she nurtured. In honor of her birthday I'd like to share a poem I wrote back in 2004. It would have stayed hidden in my computer, but there is something about today that is compelling me to release it. Happy birthday, Karin.

Shades of Araby

did you feel the wind
sliding at your heels,
tracing the sunlight
that fell on your ankles,
where the asphalt
meets the curb
and the river
respires?

were you lifted
by mingling tiger lilies
and honeysuckle,
beckoning between
bush and bramble,
separating your lips
and sharing your breath?

is it the hudson or araby
that sends us levitating
above pools of
human heartache
and suffering?
what is it
about the water and light
that completes us,
why here?

cipher like a tattoo,
ink sinking
deep into bones,
entwining proximities
until there is no distance
between us.

a single kiss
parts the veil between worlds,
releasing desire
in a sea of dandelion seeds
that whirl softly above the river,
they meet the yielding earth
on the shores of the palisades,

finally home.

Notes:

Salamander painting by Ian Daniels. The artist's prints are available at Duirwaigh.

Crashing the Clock: Scent and Timelessness

In trades driven by craft and artistry there is no quality more desirable than timelessness. Timelessness transcends boundaries and restores eternity in a world obsessed with “keeping time”, (just stand on the corner of 57th and Park Avenue in New York City and you can witness the cultural mania for time on the façade of Tourneau). There is a distinct hurdle inherent in embracing timelessness. It requires a willingness to embrace the past and the future while living in the present. Where are you when you encounter something timeless? The answer to this question depends on the source. If scent is the source the realities multiply.

Memories and the smells linked to them are activated at first sniff. The past is filtered through the experience of the present as emotions and associations intermingle. An anticipatory state arises that is linked to the expectation that something will be received thorough the act of smelling; be it pleasure or aversion. It is at this point that the mind begins to shape the future. If a scent makes you feel attractive, nostalgic, holy or powerful, you will begin to manifest the associated trait and the signal will be received by others. Past, present and future exist simultaneously in this state, as a variety of archetypes are activated.

Emotions elicited by scent further shape the feeling of time, occasionally intensifying experience to the point where time seems to stand still. This is especially true of scents associated with a loved one who is no longer alive. The deepest emotions we experience as human beings are tied to the sense of smell because of its link to memory. Under the spell of scent we experience something invisible that is tangible to our limbic system and shapes our perceptions. There is no buffer between scent and emotion. You smell something and react immediately, whether you like it or not. In this respect encountering scent crashes the traditional notion of time because a person’s response is drawn from the past, experienced in the present and projected into the future. (Can you hear all of those oversized hairsprings and ratchet wheels at Tourneau clattering onto the sidewalk as the clocks explode in confusion?)

Is there such a thing as a timeless fragrance? In truth, every scent is timeless because of the way fragrance shapes multiple realities. This doesn’t mean that every fragrance is a potential “classic” when it comes to perfumery. If you are a fragrance marketer, you may want to organize a séance instead of a focus group in order to answer this question. Timothy Leary could lead a discussion with Stephen Hawking, David Bohm, Brian Greene, and a few other experts on string theory. Imagine the possibilities. Perfumistas everywhere could throw out their watches and keep time by their noses.

Anyone know a good medium?

Notes:

For an insightful and entertaining look at the meaning of time, Glass Petal Smoke highly recommends watching the movie What the Bleep do We Know—at least twice.

The website Everything Forever is based on a fascinating book written by Gevin Giorbran. It's a great place to explore the notion of timelessness.

String theorist Brian Greene is the author of The Elegant Universe. The book was turned into a three-hour miniseries on Nova. If you are inclined towards physics (and the unification of quantum mechanics and relativity) the site will keep your brain quite busy.

"Exploding Clock" by Roger Wood. An assortment of imaginative clocks for sale can be found on Klockwerks, the artist's website.

Image of Tourneau from Jewelry and Watch Jobs.

The Smell of Fear

Fear is cold, metallic and salty. It’s the sound of stilted exhalations, the irrational shuffle of shoes moving this way and that, the mental retracing of every detail that has added up to a single moment that can’t be wished away or avoided. Fear is a collision with everything that negates life. According to researchers at SUNY Stonybrook, fear has a smell that comes from specific human pheromones. I may not be a scientist, but I’ve always subscribed to the notion that basic emotions emanate specific aromas. The frequency with which people “sense” things in other people is a good example of this. Though we are social creatures by nature our survival streak is fierce; we read everyone and everything in our environment so we can position ourselves for safety and pleasure, and have been doing so since our species began.

I knew the smell of fear at the age of eight. I had a teacher that gave religious instruction who was also a Holocaust survivor. He was a sweet and gentle man, but extremely nervous. A number was tattooed on his forearm that matched the color of veins that showed through the weathered skin of his hands. The teacher was giving a lesson on the many names of G-d in the Old Testament and wanted to share one of these names with the class. He held his chalk to the blackboard and struggled with writing out the holy name because it is forbidden to spell or utter this name unless it is said in prayer. For two minutes he would touch the stick of chalk to the blackboard and then retract it. He muttered to himself and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. I felt sorry for him, but I was eight years old and his behavior was scaring me. I could smell a peculiar odor that came from his sweat, something that was always faintly present due to his nervous disposition. To my nose, this particular smell was a mixture of the sharp note in earwax and dirty sweat. It mingled with the scent of the simple wool jackets he always wore and defined him in memory.

The next time I smelled that same odor was under different circumstances. A close friend had become addicted to heroin. She hit bottom and took the first step every recovering addict takes; she admitted she had a problem she could not control. She was extremely irritable and unbeknownst to me, had spent a week alone in her apartment going cold turkey. The detoxifying process marked her with a faint odor that I immediately recognized as fear; the same smell of fear I identified in my third grade teacher. There was a survival connection between these two olfactive experiences. My friend was literally fighting for her life, where my teacher was fighting for his existence as a pious man. The comparison of these two instances provided me with a different perspective regarding the smell of fear, and made me wonder what had become of my poor teacher. If he’s passed on, I hope he has found a good measure of peace and forgiveness as he was extremely hard on himself.

For the past eight years Americans have lived in a culture of fear. Much of this has been foisted upon the world as a result of different societies and belief systems mingling and colliding. This raises all sorts of issues with regard to identity and truth, matters that reconcile slowly and in ways that aren't always predictable. Despite the challenges we face, each of us has an opportunity to transform the current climate of fear into one that embraces love and understanding. It requires that we retract our pointing fingers away from politicians and scapegoats, and start thinking about an antidote. Times are tough. If you know someone who is suffering because of the downturn in the economy, reach out. If you are struggling with something of a personal nature, don’t be afraid to ask for help. Things can change for the better and it helps to know that others experience the same things that you do. The perfume of compassion always rises above the smell of fear because its essence is pure and liberating. It is a free gift you can give to everyone, including yourself, this holiday season.

Notes:

Over the years scent artist Sissel Tolaas has worked with synthesized human sweat pheromones in her own explorations of the scent of fear. Her work has been featured at the MIT List Visual Arts Center in Cambridge, MA, and The Grand Arts in Kansas City, MO, among others.

The drawing of hands featured in this post comes from the book Shefa Tal, by Shabbetai Sheftel Horowitz. The author, who lived from 1561-1691, was a renowned physician from Prague. The illustration of hands is filled with Kabalistic symbols. According to the Jewish Virtual Library, “These hands are divided into twenty-eight sections, each containing a Hebrew letter. Twenty-eight, in Hebrew numbers, spells the word Koach = strength. At the bottom of the hand, the two letters on each hand combine to form YHWH [יהוה], the name of God." The book was published in 1612.

Painting of "White Bird" by Krista Lynn Brown on Devaluna.