One for the quilters – a whole new world

For those of you who aren’t into quilts, please skip over this one. I’m about to get a little bit quilt geeky.

Today the road led to Paducah, Kentucky – one of the quilt world’s two Meccas, Houston being the other. Paducah is home to the Museum of the American Quilter’s Society, and its yearly quilt show. I’m sad to say that no pix were allowed, and the show was policed by sharp-eyed retired quilters that were protecting the quilts as if they had made every stitch themselves. You’ve met the type at the guild: so ferocious they intimidate you into straighter posture and better manners.

I haven’t been into quilting much in the last few years as all of my artistic attention has been distracted by the work I needed to make in my quest for a seat in grad school. So it is through out-of-touch eyes that these observations are made.

YIKES! What quilts! They had the winners from the last couple of years on display. I sure hope the magazines have been showing close up pictures because if not, you wouldn’t understand the complexity of therm. (Here’s a link to some pix of the 2007 winner: http://www.patsyterrell.com/2007/05/sharon-schamber-of-payson-arizona-won.html). Every last nook of these quilts is quilted to within an eighth-inch of its life. Entire secondary designs in the white space, some as complex as an actual quilt, but only in thread. Perfectly even, tiny machine stitches (the makers have either stunning coordination or stitch regulators). These new quilts are so complex that they make Caryl Bryer Fallert’s winners from the 90’s look like warm up exercises. And stuff from ten years ago looks like best of show from the local county fair now. The backs are stunning also – dang them!

They are almost too perfect… what ever happened to the humility block? I realize that wavy borders don’t deserve the $20 grand prize, but these were so perfect that it was beyond intimidating.

Makes me glad I’m not running in this playground anymore (once upon a time I was getting into the occasional big show) – frankly, I’ve always been more interested in color rather than the actual quilting stitches. These days I seem to be happy making simpler quilts, putting my colors into other peoples’ patterns. Dare I say that making a quilt that can be touched and snuggled under seems so much more relevant to me now. As I said… a whole new world.

Death and Contemporary Art

I was recently in Kassel, Germany, to see the art exhibit "documenta 12." This is a once-every-five-years exhibition of contemporary art, and part of the summer art extravaganza in Europe that also includes the Venice Biennale. Some of the art was good, some wasn't - which is the usual experience I seem to have with contemporary art. It has always been the job of the artists to illustrate the stories of the day - all that church art was essentially Bible stories in cartoon for the illiterate. Many artists today still choose to make art that illuminates facets of today's concerns, not so much for the illiterate, but hopefully for the oblivious. Thus, much of the art I saw this summer necessarily speaks to contemporary issues in today's society - war, death, poverty, genocide, human rights violations, government shenanigans, fear and terror. In places it was challenging and exhausting. In terms of writing in depth about it here, I will pass... I'd rather be a bit more upbeat. Also, I think it would end up being a chewy art piece that will appeal to few of you dear friends. I will save the artspeak for the art cronies!

So on the theme of upbeat, welcome to Kassel's Museum for Sepulchral Culture! This is one of seven museums in Europe that specifically deal with death and its customs. As many of you know, I make a lot of art that plays in the realm of euphemisms - the words we create in order not to say certain words. "Death" is one of those words. In many cultures, to speak of death is to invite it in. Thus we say that a loved one has "passed." In the south, they are "just away." And at the Flying Circus, they are, of course, "pushing up the daisies."

And so here is a museum dedicated to the aspects of this unmentionable thing. It has permanent exhibition space dealing with death, judgement, hell and paradise. Most of the objects are from German speaking cultures, and include a healthy collection of unusual headstones. There are horse drawn hearses, painted skulls, reliquaries, coffins, costumes, and an extensive collection of prints, etchings and books. There was even death related graffiti outside the museum. I found one set of objects very interesting - a series of figurines of Death talking to various characters. The concept of "Death and the Maiden" appears often in art, but I had no idea that there seems to be a much longer poem whereby Death converses with many other characters, from the King to the Painter. I will be researching this further when I get back to a faster internet connection (my folks, bless 'em, can only get dial up out here in the French countryside).

How to be a Tourist in Europe

This is prompted by Sheila, an anonymous American lady who sat next to me in an internet cafe in Venice. I snooped what she was writing, and it was along the lines of "the food is weird, the bathroom is small, and I can't wait to get on the cruise ship." Yep, that's what she had to say about Venice. Sheesh.

So here it is, Sam's Rules for Becoming a European Tourist. All you need is a sense of adventure, a decent guide book (my preference is Rick Steves) and comfortable shoes. And band-aids if you didn't test drive the shoes before you arrived... Ready?

Rule Number 1 - Embrace the differences
You didn't come to Europe for it to feel like Los Angeles, so understand that it doesn't (well, perhaps except for all those Gap stores). It also doesn't conform to high speed LA time, so slow down, go with the flow, and don't get all steamed over the little stuff. Nothing will actually move any faster because you got steamed.
If you're like me and you stay in the little hotels off the main drag, the bathroom will indeed be small, as will the bedroom. The shower might be barely big enough for you to turn around in, and that funky, low, sink-like thing in the corner - the bidet - is actually great for washing your tired feet. But you came here for the sights, right? Truly, you will probably be in the bathroom for less than an hour a day, and if you have planned your sightseeing properly, the only things you will see in the bedroom is the backs of your eyelids.

Rule Number 2 - Walk
Seriously. There are times that I think we Americans would attempt to drive to our own bathrooms if we could, but trust me when I tell you it won't kill you to walk. You will smell, hear, and see more things, especially the little stuff that makes your trip special. It will help you clear your jet lag and the hangover you got from all that good wine last night, and it justifies the extra servings you ate of the foods you dutifully avoid at home. Besides, these folks on the Segways in the Piazza Della Signoria in Florence don't look like cool, rich people who can afford to tour on a technological gadget... they look just plain dorky.

Rule Number 3 - Eat
Eat the local specialty. Get off the beaten path. Avoid McDonalds (actually, avoid it for the rest of your life). Stop ordering the pizza just because it's the only thing you recognize. Pick one thing per country and try it in every restaurant - in Italy, I order the bruschetta everywhere; in France it's creme brulee. Find the local gems and make friends with the owner (a generous tip usually gets you remembered and treated like royalty when you next show up). Ask for their recommendations and give it a shot. And if you really hate it, there is always a pizza stand... but only for emergency backup!

Rule Number 4 - Visit the big church
Regardless of your brand of faith or position on religion, the big church in the middle of town is usually a marvel. It is the best example of the area's architecture, art, history and politics all rolled into one big story board. The glitterati of the day worked on this building, but so did the common man. With life spans in the Renaissance seldom passing 50 years, and cathedral building campaigns lasting hundreds, it was not uncommon for a craftsman's entire life to be spent essentially working on one structure, or perhaps even just one ornate arch. Ponder what it must have taken to hoist those huge stones that high without the benefits of hydraulics. Check out the artwork under the dome, and appreciate that the fresco artists created it on their backs, with plaster and paint dripping into their faces. While you are in there, light a candle for someone special in your life (Steve... I love you!)

Rule Number 5 - Don't stress about the language
We are lucky that the natural second language for most of the world is English. We are even luckier that most of the people we meet want to test out their English on us. Stop thinking you need to be fluent to travel. You only need a few words, and you need to stop feeling so self conscious about trying them out - really... they don't care that you hacked it to pieces, they care that you tried. So, learn these few words.... Hello. Goodbye. Please. Thank you. One of those (and this can be done by holding up the correct number of fingers and pointing to the desired object). That's it - that and smiling a lot will cover just about everything.

Rule Number 6 - Take pictures
Load up on ram cards for your camera and just go for it. Buy an extra battery pack too. No, you don't need the latest 38 megapixel sooper-dooper camera of the moment. Just bring the one that fits your hand or your shirt pocket best because then you will enjoy using it. But do learn how to operate it, especially how to turn off the flash (a requirement for photographing inside most museums and churches). Snap the buildings, the food, the patterns on the floors, the funky graffiti. Offer to take pictures of fellow travelers in front of stuff. Ask for the same. Take the touristy shot in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. When it's all said and done, these pictures will be your best memories of the trip.

Bon Voyage!

Yellow and Red

(I'm in France now, at my parents' house. We've had a couple of much needed mellow days, not many pix taken, so I will continue to write about Italy for the time being).

I recently read a good book called "Eat, Pray, Love" and in it, the author writes about describing a city with just one word. She said that Rome would be "sex." Staying with that idea, but thinking about it in color, I would have to say that Florence is YELLOW, Venice is RED.

Florence, Siena, and the surrounding Tuscan countryside are every color of gold you can imagine. Ocher, goldenrod, sunflower, mustard. The colors are rich and textured, shaded deeper by the yellow of the sun.

Venice has the golds, but adds the reds. Coral, tomato, rust, brick, crimson, scarlet, burgundy - all intensified by the complimentary green of the water. Just as lovely as the yellows, the reds let you know you're in a different town with a different vibe.

Germany vs. Italy

No, not a soccer match, but just general observations as today I'm in Kassel, Germany. No pix at the moment to share as I'm currently without my laptop, and thus without the means to make the pictures web friendly in size. I´ll update the visuals at the end of the week when I reach my parents' house.

Adam, the groom from last week's wedding, says that Italy is one step above a third world country. The bureaucracy is maze-like and frustrating beyond the patience of any non Italian soul. He has had to jump through several loops of bizarre catch-22 like processes on a regular basis to maintain his student visa - the sort of thing like you need Document A in order to get Document B, but the A folks want the B document first.

Germany on the other hand, seems like it runs on rails. I would be tempted to use the analogy of a Swiss watch, but after dealing with Swiss Air twice in the last couple of weeks over cancelled flights and lost luggage, I will give them a rating of 2 out of 5 stars... one for not crashing the planes, and one for giving out Swiss chocolate instead of peanuts and pretzels.

Italian trains run close to on time, but finding them can be an adventure. The board says platform 3, but 5 minutes before arrival, a rapid announcement says now platform 7, and it isn't always repeated in English, so you are at the mercy of other travellers to let you in on the game. Platform 7 is a fair hike away, and you arrive there with all of that luggage that you shouldn't have brought in the first place, huffing and puffing. In Germany, they are so sure of the platform number that they publish it in their train schedules. And don't be late either.

German bread is better than Italian bread. Pastries too. Beer too, and they have more than 2 varieties! Italians win on wine and gelato, hands down.

Language wise, German has been a challenge, and not just because I didn't study it. There is very little English evident in the words, and so guessing is tough. And with all the 'umpfs' and 'ichts' in the language, it comes off less poetic than the emotional Italian. They also don't use their hands as much as the Italians - who does!?

The folks in Italy seem happier. Perhaps it's because I've been in touristy spots where their job is sell their country. Kassel merits barely a page in a Germany guidebook, as their only claim to fame outside of the requisite castle is the art show I'm here to see (documenta 12) and a Museum of Death (!). Yes, I will pop by there today... it just seems too different to pass up!

Pink Alligators

Not as interesting as last year's White Guy in Paris, but still a puzzle to ponder. They are roped to the outside of several buildings along the Grand Canal, and over one or two shops in the ritziest shopping area. It's Biennale time, so they could be part of that. But who knows? What do you think? Wild guesses are welcome.

The Geranium Committee

Many of the windows in Venice sport window boxes that are exploding with geraniums. You turn a corner, glance up, and there is your perfect tourist-with-a-camera moment. The bright orangey-red flowers create a sparkling contrast with the golds, marble grays and terracotta browns of the buildings. There are very few ragged plants... they all seem to be in full bloom, well groomed, and neatly spaced beneath the prettiest windows. Sometimes they are so perfect that I wonder if there is a committee just for the placement of geraniums. With the legendary Italian bureaucracy being what it is, it could just be possible.

Paradise Found

... in Venice.

I still think that Florence could vie for the title!

Venice

Yesterday, the road led to Venice, although no actual roads were used. The train from Florence led all the way onto the island that is Venice, dropping me into the tourist crunch at Santa Lucia stazione. I took a crowded water bus to the stop closest to my hotel and wandered five minutes inland through small alleys, quaint shops, and delicious smells to a tiny piazza that serves an old church and my hotel door. The piazza is quiet, and my room overlooks it from the first floor (or second in American translation). Both the Wonderful Hotel View Fairy and the Fabulous Weather Fairy have been my welcome companions this trip!

While wandering on Murano yesterday, I bumped into Larry and Emily, extended "family" of the Jones clan, who were also here for the wedding. I joined them for an afternoon of exploring and shopping. As we followed one of the walking tours in the Rick Steve's Venice guide, we crossed several bridges that spanned lanes that are heavily plied by the gondoliers. We noted that, at times, it looked a bit like a log jammed boat ride in an amusement park. We forwent the expense of a gondola ride ourselves (well over $100) and instead spent the evening eating one of the best meals of the trip (and certainly the best dessert I've had outside of gelato at Grom in Florence).

Today, they start their journey home, and I head off to gorge on the art of the Venice Biennale.

Where are we going... and what's with the handbasket?

(With apologies to Annie for poaching the title!)

I stumbled upon a couple of streets that have me wondering if perhaps Dante lived nearby. Via Del Purgatorio led to Via dell' Inferno, but the last of his trilogy, Paradiso was nowhere to be found. Perhaps just being in Florence is paradise enough.

Views of Siena

The weather was a tad overcast, so the true tuscan gold colors are not really showing up all that well in the pix...

More of Siena's Duomo

Siena's Duomo

Yesterday the road led to Siena, a medieval mountain town about an hour and a half ride from Florence on the "Siena Rapido" bus.

Siena's cathedral is dedicated to St. John the Baptist and dates back to the 1100's. Its facade is notable for the inclusion of the animals that represent the four evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John), as well as statues of Siena's four patron saints (Bartholomew being the most well known of the group). The cathedral is probably best known for its breathtaking marble mosaic floors. I was thrilled that photography (no flash!) was allowed.

Many of the big names of the Renaissance worked on the cathedral, with Duccio being the most prevalent. Donatello provided a carved wood St. John the Baptist for a special chapel, and Michelangelo contributed a couple of minor figures to a marble side altar before skipping out on his contract to go make the legendary Florentine David.

Next to the church is a huge wall off to one side. At one point in the 1400's it was decided that the entire existing church would become a transept of a much larger structure (one of the arms of the cross). They got one wall built, and then the plague wiped out the workforce. By the time they replenished the population a century or so later no one was interested, but the wall still stands, and structures around it house the Duomo's museum. You can't climb the dome, but the museum takes you up to the highest point of the wall above the dome, where a 360 view of Siena and the Tuscan hills awaits you (those pictures coming soon...)

Guerilla Tourism

Let's go to Pisa on the way back to Florence
Can we fit that in?
Why not?
What about the bags?
They have wheels
... and I'll bet there are taxis
What the heck...
When's the next train?
Half hour
Andiamo! (Let's go)
Where's the platform?
Where's the train?
Is this our stop?
Taxi!
La torre per favore. The Tower.
OK (with tired resignation and full Italian eye rolling)
There it is... look.
Wow! Didn't know there was a church in front of it... thought it was sort of out there in the middle of nowhere
Should we do the picture?
Nah
Come on... let's do it - here's my camera
Here's mine too
Ooops - get the luggage out of the picture
Put your hand here - pretend there's a wall
No higher... really lean into it
Like you're holding it up
SMILE!
Say formaggio
CHEESE!
Perfect
Hey - can we use this for the family Christmas card?
That would be cool
Are we done?
Yep
OK - Andiamo!
Taxi!

Livorno

Livorno is a port town on the west edge of Italy, half an hour away from Pisa. As we came in on the train we passed huge lots of new cars (little European Renaults and Smart cars) and other evidence of a thriving shipping industry. The town also caters to cruise ships, offloading their human cargo for day trips to Pisa and Florence.

The folks at the hotel told us that it was once a slave trading port, which the monument in the square outside seemed to indicate. The town was build with both slave and conscripted labor, as local prisoners were allowed to trade their cells for the "freedom" of building the port and its attendant structures.

Livorno also hosts the inland Italians for beach weekends - we ran in to throngs of them on crowded trains at the end of Sunday. It has the laid back vibe of a beach community, although it still sports frenetic Italian traffic (all street signs and signals are merely suggestions!)

The best part of Livorno was the seafood - my shellfish eating friends were rolling their eyes back in ecstacy at the creamy oysters and plentiful platters of mussels and clams. I stayed with catch of the day, fabulous pizza with a thin, crunchy crust, and caramel gelato!

Getting Married in Italy

The road led to Livorno over the weekend, for the wedding of Adam and Clara. Adam is an art crony, currently studying painting restoration in Florence. Clara is his Italian bride, also an artist and clothing designer.

The day began with sunshine and mild weather, and the heat held off until the service was done, so the wedding party didn't melt in their finery. Tradition in Italy dictates that the groom may wear only black, white, or powder blue... Powder blue? Surely not, we all thought, with cringing visions of blue polyester and geeky ruffles. No worries though - Adam wore a lovely white linen suit and looked every bit the dashing groom. Clara made her own dress - nothing close to the traditional meringue it was rumored her mama would have preferred - it was pretty and fun (as is she) and flattered the best of her, as all wedding dresses should.

The wedding was held in the local courthouse, and was a wonder to behold. We gathered informally around as they made their promises in both Italian and English, reciting vows to take care of each other, as well as vows to take care of their children and properties (all traditional Italian vows). They signed the court register, exchanged rings and kisses, and then turned and hugged everyone in the room. Of all the ceremonies I've attended, it was the least formal and the most loving.

The reception included a full multi-course Italian meal (mostly built around the fresh seafood of Livorno's harbor), speeches (inclusively in both languages), a bouquet toss, cake cutting and dancing. They don't toss the garter in Italy, but we improvised and created one for Clara. We danced until we couldn't wear shoes any more, and the music included many crowd pleasing staples like YMCA! Who knew the Village people would transcend cultures and generations?

At the end of the afternoon, we changed outfits and headed to the beach for a dip (sounds like "deep" with an Italian accent!), and then at sundown, out for mussels and pizza. I left the American contingent sampling the restaurant's secret liqueurs at midnight.

What an honor to be part of another culture's customs, and truly, what a wonderful day!

Top Ten Reasons to Climb a Dome

10. Because it's there
9. You get to practice counting as you climb
8. Weird grafitti
7. Spectacular views of the inside of the church
6. You might not get back to this church again
5. You might not be able to climb if you do
4. The view from the top
3. The view from the top
2. The view from the top
1. Extra servings of gelato!