Plucked from the frieze of some ancient building on the Acropolis, this teen’s pose seems almost classical. (’Ceptin’ for the smartphone.) Or maybe my judgment is clouded by all that white marble, that golden light. Jay and I had come here to the conservatorio in Barcelona’s Eixample neighborhood to hear a dual student recital (first, a jeans-and-hoodie-sporting flautist who oh-so-casually opened the evening; then a determined pianist whose technical fireworks at the keyboard were impressive, but who left us wanting even un poquitito of something pianissimo for contrast.) An interesting evening, our last before heading back home, it began with some mighty fine tapas, impressive and admirable in their own way.
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