On the Road with the Art Car

The Art Car and I are featured at the Ventura County Museum of History and Art this weekend during the Ventura ArtWalk - Saturday August 19th from noon to 6pm.

The folks at KCLU (Ventura County's NPR Station) came to interview me today to make a radio spot to advertise the events... you can hear it (and me) on the radio on Thursday 17 August, at 6:30, 7:30 and 8:30 am. Another 15 minutes of fame!

Shopping in Italy - Gift Wrapped

The clothing stores in Rome were unlike anything I've seen before. Most of them were narrow, but deep, and often without much front window in which to advertise their wares. Advertising being necessary to most commerce, they have adapted to the lack of windows by creating display cabinets on the walls outside. The picture of the ties is one such example - a collection so colorful that it enticed like candy. Another was the display of leather gloves at Fiumicino Airport. I just wanted to eat them. The stores were also different in that they had out on the floor just a few of each item - perhaps only one of each size or color, like a boutique. This was true even for the bargain stores. A far cry from the two dozen of everything approach of a Mervyns or Kohls.

Alexis, Cynthia and I also noticed the difference between female police officers in France and Italy. Lady officers in France were rare, and were outfitted as plainly and as practically as the men. The lady officers in Italy were fully made-up, right down to the impossibly high heels that all Italian women seem to wear, despite the cobbled streets. Seriously - heels so high I would break my neck just standing still in them. The first lady officer we noticed was also petite - but her demeanor was far more intimidating than her male counterpart. Cynthia commented that we shouldn't let the high heels fool us, because she "sure looks like she could gift wrap you." Alexis and I picked ourselves up off the floor after this comment... our sweet friend Cynthia is a brown belt, you see. She knows about being a lady who can gift wrap!

The Basilica of St. Denis

The Basilica of St. Denis is off the beaten tracks, and seldom covered in Paris tourism books. To reach it, you go to the second-to-last stop on the 13 metro line. The neighborhood around it is a bit dodgy: not scary, but edgy enough to make you keep your purse close and leave before dark. The metro disgorges into a mall of cheap shops and greasy smells, and once you clear those and round the corner of the market square (junky swap meet on Tuesday mornings) you arrive at the church.

The church doesn't have the most interesting facade - like many gothic structures, it is resplendent in sculpture, flying butresses, and stained glass - and I find it amazing that I could become so matter-of-factly blasé about gothic architecture in such a short time! I suppose the steady diet breeds a little familiarity. But all that aside, St. Denis has some truly lovely gargoyles, and many of them were accessible with a decent zoom lens. As a gargoyle enthusiast, I found these ones to be very interesting in that many of the scary gargs were paired with or holding onto pious humans. I've not seen the pairings before. There were also numerous little critters at the junctions of arches and under the feet of standing figures. This is the church where many French royalty were once buried, complete with stunning carved figures atop ornate tombs that are still there - one was a kneeling, sculpted Marie Antoinette in marble ermine, jewels and lace.

The inside of the church is a wonder. Alexis and I both agreed that this was our favorite so far, better than Chartres for arches, better than Notre Dame for glass. Perhaps it was because we shared the space with barely two dozen people instead of the bustling thousands in the more renowned churches. Notre Dame seems like a circus in comparison. The side entrance of the church opens to the bluest stained glass rose window I've ever seen. You know the blue - so rich and cobalt that it strikes a chord in you that makes you drop your jaw and gape.

Luck was with us as we wandered... many of the stained glass windows were reflecting kaleidoscopes of color across the interior. We caught a couple on camera before they fleeted away.

More White Guys

A bumper crop - all within 20 feet of each other on a side street. Could this be the artist's home turf? As I photographed the pair together, the regulars at the adjacent bar closed the bar doors so that I could see the third, and then pointed out another two doors down. They were amused that I was so interested. To them these are the fabric of the neighborhood - to me, a delighful tolerance and celebration of art. I truly can't imagine anything like this being allowed to stand in my neighborhood... heck, I'm not even allowed a door wreath.

Home again, home again

I'm still having technical problems with uploading pictures, and it's a very frustrating thing. Hopefully it will get worked out soon (emails have been sent to blogger support). If not, I'll find a new host site or go back to the old fashioned version of spreading the word - bulk email. I just keep trying to remember that computers were supposed to make our lives easier!

The trip home was tiring and trying - quite compounded by a pitstop in Philly that had us shuffling through customs lines for most of the two plus hours between flights, followed by a mad dash to make the next plane. The disorganization meant that none of our luggage came home with us - mine got delivered late the following night. Trust me when I say that a direct flight of 11 hours is a piece of cake compared to one with connections. All they do is make a long day even longer, and give you more opportunities to miss your next flight or lose your bags. Also, long haul international flights have way better food - something to be considered as you sprint by the aromatic Philly Cheese Steaks to get on the plane that charges five bucks for a questionable snack!

Coming home was a good thing. It was truly lovely to be away, but great to come home to my own bed, my own shower, and most of all, my son Steve. We're good pals, he and I, and I sure missed him.

Going back to work with jet lag is an exquisite torture - but it is work, after all, that affords us such adventures. My adventure is still going though, as I sift through gigabytes of pictures, and recall the stories that go with them. So watch this space - there's still more to come!