Photos from "Tuxedos by Steinway & Vodka by Chopin"

Sorry these pictures took so long to upload! It didn't help that I left my camera at Liz's apartment for the past few weeks.

Recently, we were asked by Steinway to perform release event for members of the press and media, celebrating the company's new line of concert clothes for men. (Read about our experience in an earlier post.) Unfortunately, the pictures taken with my camera didn't turn out so well (and we haven't yet seen the pictures taken by the Steinway photographer), so we'll just have to make due with what we have.

Exhibit A:
Here I am informing the audience of something very important. (Note: Liz's dress ... oh yes, and also notice the mannequin standing at our right, wearing a very fine Steinway tuxedo.)


Exhibit B:
Now Liz is informing the audience of something terribly important.


Exhibit C:
The Anderson & Roe Piano Duo with the director of the event, the wonderful and enthusiastic Elliot Rittenband.


Exhibit D:
An autograph to Greg & Liz by the emcee of the event, Howard Cross's (#87 of the New York Giants). We apologize to Mr. Cross for forgetting his name in our earlier post!

Southwest Sojourn, Part IV

"The hills are alive with the sound of music!" (Classic movie, by the way -- Edelweiss breaks my heart every time...)

Greetings from Liz again. One of the best parts of our trip to Utah was our trek up the hills for a makeshift photo shoot. We recruited the assistance of our supremely stellar sidekicks, Gregory and Melody Brown, who happened to be utterly skillful and blessedly patient companions. (We love you guys!)

The plans were simple enough: hike up huge hill by Brown house, get gussied up, take pictures. Plan=simple. Execution=not so simple. The hills we had in mind happened to be unexpectedly inaccessible, and as we trampled -- parched, aimless, sweaty, and burdened with cumbersome garment bags -- through a thorny and tortuous path replete with brambles, deer droppings, and cacti (which pierced Gregory in the foot and myself in the thigh), I grumbled in discontent, "We're crazy." I don't deny that Greg Anderson and I have a history for getting ourselves into absurd situations because of our brilliant (I mean, ridiculous) ideas.



Yet all the huffing and puffing was worth it. Once we reached the apex of the hill, I had to catch my breath for another reason: the views were spectacular, formidable, sublime. The early-evening skies were the clearest cerulean -- not a cloud in sight -- and the bracing winds were fresh and invigorating. Greg and I stripped for the world to see (that's where Melody came in -- she protected my modesty with a sheet) into our formal wear, and then we vamped for Greg's little digital camera, manned by Gregory. Watch out, professional photographers: Greg Brown's got some serious skills. Melody was also instrumental in the process, shouting out observations, adjusting my windblown tresses, and repeatedly telling Greg A to "own" his pose.

The results? A few images are posted on our website, and as for the others, you're just going to have to wait! ;)