Director

We think too often that a museum is a repository where you discard all sorts of objects. Arts, history, natural sciences, technology, curiosities. You place exhibits from all these domains into bright and spacious halls; you range them nicely one next to the other and sometimes

It's all set! On Saturday I am to deliver a speech in the plenary meeting of the SPDRM. There's no way out: I did, in a moment of utter weakness, promise an old friend of mine, Mrs. Parigoridi – so it is now for me a matter of conscience, of honour, of heart

The threshold between the millenniums is an opportunity for evaluation: tributes, jubilees, festivals. Archives are being browsed, masterpieces are reappraised, and writings are redefined in the current context, then recirculated in today's competition. Everything becomes

Even if human society has always been haunted by an almost imperceptible misogynic fluid, the selfsame society has enabled the advent of remarkable women in every walk of life, from politics to business to culture or science, from Sappho to Marie Curie, from Clara Schumann

excerpts The Diary and Its Readers We should not overdo it with diaries and letters. We usually tend to deem them more revealing of the man than his public work. All that is secretive, familiar draws us as if it were a confession. It is the pleasure of breaking an interdiction,

vol. II: 1937 – 1960 XXIIII begin to discover America… Chicago, December 10, 1984. For a whole fifteen minutes I have been standing by my window, staring blankly out into the street, without even understanding why. I got up from my desk because I thought it had started

*  Sunday, March 31, 1940Rotten weather. I stay indoors and work, bringing my Diary to date. The French and the British hold frequent, definitely long conferences – now in Paris, now in London – attended by militaries and politicians. This incessant activity evinces

Paris, February 7th, 1939The phone wakes me up: it's George, who calls me from Algiers. He keeps waiting for his plane to be repaired. The thought that he left on an old jade – as he says – worries me. I remember my mother-in-law's words and I agree with her:

The only self-relying public dance company in Romania, the Oleg Danovski Ballet Theater carries out an extremely complex and sustained activity mirrored in the diversity of its productions and projects. In 1999 the company opened its gates to the personalities of the Romanian

Significant and flamboyant, this success reaped by the Ballet Ensemble of the Fantasio Theatre in Constanţa: a corps which has made the proof of less common technical virtues and that of an exceptional graphical grace in maintaining a new (and viable) language derived from

If to the ordinary Romanian ballet aficionado the name Judith Turos doesn't ring a bell, to the German press she is die Turos, just like Italians say la Fracci. Born in Baia Mare, she attended the Choreography High School in Cluj and graduated from the Moscow Ballet

I met Ioan Tugearu in Constanţa at the Oleg Danovski Ballet Theater where he spent days on end staging Kurosawa, Mon Amour, on a collage of traditional Japanese music, with stage decoration by Ion Codrescu. The show premiered early in September. With a tape-recorder in