Art on the Road

Moving to Version 2

2008-05-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

It seems that, in the upheaval of moving across country last year, when I deleted my old email address, with it, I inadvertently killed my ability to manipulate my blog at the admin level. Due to privacy rights, the kind folks at Google can't identify me well enough to let me back in. While this is a royal pain in the seat, I strenuously support privacy - and thus the best solution seems to be to create a V2 blog - you can find it at http://samhunter42.blogspot.com/

I will link this old blog at the top of the new one. And probably noodle with this one in some inconsequential fashion occasionally so that the Google folks don't kill it.

If you subscribe by RSS feed, don't forget to update to the new address here:
http://samhunter42.blogspot.com/

See you at Art on the Road and MORE...

Bragging on a Friend

2008-03-23T06:39:00.000-07:00

Daniel Robinson was my tour guide here at JMU a year ago when I showed up to check out the school. Once I joined the program, he became mentor and "big brother," ever the voice of calm in the insanity that is grad school - the mantra he always says to me is "everything is going to be OK." My nickname for him is Zen Master. He calls me Sambuca. He has taught me much about being committed to making art, and where to find the best burger in town. He and his girlfriend Kim have become part of my VA family. And if he tells you a dreadful story about me and some chips and dip, it's all lies!

Daniel will be graduating this semester. I'm thrilled that he's finished, and am rooting for a lucky bunch of students to get him as their new photo professor next semester. But frankly, it ticks me off because it means I got only one year of studying with him instead of more. Yes, I'm selfish when it comes to good friends.

So in celebration of Daniel making it through the grad school gauntlet, I offer you a lovely article that was published about him, his art, and his MFA thesis show in our local paper. Congrats, Daniel! You leave some mighty big shoes to fill!!

http://www.dnronline.com/search_details.php?AID=15604&CHID=37&key=pinhole&title=&author=&channelid=

An Eye on the Bigger Picture

2008-03-23T06:37:00.000-07:00

Published at Smithsonian's ARTiculations:
http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/articulations/2008/03/17/an-eye-on-the-bigger-picture/

Autumnal Equinox

2007-09-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

Everyone says there are few things that can compete with the spectacle of an east coast autumn. I got my first peek yesterday, with the tree in the park flashing a swatch of red like a lady of the night flashing her gams. The tease promises a good show.

The first herald came last weekend... the temperature dipped low enough for a couple of days to warrant a quilt on the bed, socks on my feet, and a jacket in the morning. Warm in the sun, but chill in the shade, especially at the end of the day. Thoughts turning to soups and stews, and other chances to use the new (gloriously orange) dutch oven I bought this summer.

Here comes fall....

A Thousand Words Are Worth A Picture

2007-09-19T16:17:00.000-07:00

Published at Smithsonian's ARTiculations:

http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/articulations/2007/09/18/a-thousand-words-are-worth-a-picture/

Getting Your Kicks

2007-09-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

Published at Smithsonian's ARTiculations:

http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/articulations/2007/09/04/getting-your-kicks/

Modern Sculpture at the Getty

2007-09-19T16:10:00.000-07:00

Published at Smithsonian's ARTiculations:
http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/articulations/2007/08/21/modern-sculpture-at-the-getty/

Venice Biennale - First Course

2007-08-03T17:36:00.000-07:00

Cool news, dear friends. I have been tapped to contribute the occasional Art on the Road to Smithsonian's ARTiculations blog.

You can catch my first post there - Venice Biennale - The First Course -

http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/articulations/2007/08/03/the-venice-biennale-first-course/

I will still be blogging here too... and will get back to it after I've moved into the new place in Harrisonburg. The boxes will be in the house by the end of this weekend, and then all that's left will be the fussing it into place - no small task! It is certainly great to be on the road, but it will be wonderful to have a place to call home (one that is bigger than the purple suitcase I've been living out of for the last six weeks :-)

One for the quilters – a whole new world

2007-07-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-18T22:29:00.001-07:00

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

2007-07-14T08:58:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

(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

2007-07-09T21:39:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-07T01:25:00.001-07:00

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

2007-07-07T01:20:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-06T01:31:00.001-07:00

... in Venice.

I still think that Florence could vie for the title!

Venice

2007-07-06T01:27:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-07-04T01:08:00.000-07:00

(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

2007-07-04T01:06:00.001-07:00

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

2007-07-04T01:04:00.000-07:00

Siena's Duomo

2007-07-04T01:02:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-02T09:57:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-01T00:46:00.000-07:00

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!

Two Davids

2007-06-28T11:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I visited the two most famous Davids in Florence - one by Donatello, the other by Michelangelo.

I wasn't allowed to photograph Michelangelo's David (most of the museums this trip are forbidding photography - bah!) thus the improvised image :-) Donatello's is currently undergoing conservation, so the photos of it are a bit different too.

Donatello's came first, and was a sensation because it was the first male nude in the round since antiquity. Here, David is a youth, already victorious, with his foot on Goliath's head. The conservation is going on in full view of the crowds, and it was possible to see the tests of various cleaning substances on the bronze torso. It was also possible to see the details on the top of David's hat.

Michelangelo's came later and was equally sensational. Carved from a block of marble that no one else wanted, this David is older and more muscularly defined. It set the bar for everything to follow for years. The signs in the gallery say that this David is also shown after the kill, but the current director of the Accademia believes that it depicts a quiet moment of concentration before the fight begins. I'll second that.

I have no words to describe how it feels to stand in the presence of a work of art that I have studied for years, and by an artist that I admire and revere. Let's just say that it's not the first time I have cried in front of a work by Michelangelo. I doubt it will be the last.

Coming soon to a waistline near you...

2007-06-28T11:24:00.000-07:00

Gelato!

Flavors sampled thus far: lemon, melon, pineapple, and of course, dark chocolate. Alexis, I will partake of the tiramisu tomorrow, just for you ;-)

Errata - Yesterday I spoke about Bramante's Duomo, and what I meant was Brunelleschi's Duomo (the post has been corrected). I was expecting an avalanche of laughter from the art crowd this morning (I can imagine how much I embarrassed my professors!), but not a one showed up. Thanks for understanding that jet lag can do unkind things to a brain!

View of the Dance

2007-06-27T10:46:00.000-07:00

After a couple of travel hitches yesterday, I finally arrived in Florence this morning. I am staying at Soggiorno Battistero - literally "sojourn at the Baptistery." Their sign downstairs says "Rooms with a view" and they are not kidding - the first two pictures are the view from my window, looking out on the Florence Baptistery and the courtyard of the Duomo of Santa Maria Del Fiore. I'm not sure it could get better than this.

I watched the dance in the courtyard this morning. Among the cast members are the good people of Florence, the tourists, street vendors trying to make a quick euro, a few horses, and the local police. It goes like this... the vendors set up - sunglasses, prints of Florence sights, wooden trains, battery operated cars that flip. More than one selling each type of item, they move their wares left and right, subtly challenging the other guys' turf without quite invading it. The tourists shuffle in the line snaking around the dome. The horses eat hay, waiting to pull buggies for hire. The bells ring. Strains of an accordion playing something that sounds rather French (or is it just that all such accordion playing sounds French?) A police car wanders through, and the vendors collapse their displays in a wave, dissipating behind guided groups and cafe umbrellas like a waft of smoke. An arm from the police car wags a cautioning finger as the car exits the piazza. Less than a minute later, all of the vendors are open for business again - sunglasses unfolded on cardboard, prints in the racks, but this time the setup is different. The tourists shuffle towards the Duomo. One or two look at some prints, and get hounded for a half a block when they decide not to buy. The accordion plays "Hava Nagila" (huh?) and the tourists shuffle a little more, some getting past the line as they follow a guide with a bright flag. A different police car drives by, and again the vendors fade quickly into the crowd. Tourists walk by with gelato to get in line... rinse, repeat.

The Duomo is a special milestone in the history of art and architecture. Designed by Brunelleschi, it is the first dome of the Renaissance. Many different colors of marble and stone riot across the facade, a welcome change from the unending white of St. Peter's or St. Paul's, neither of which would have been possible without this modest little dome. I hope to climb it tomorrow.

This afternoon, after visiting the actual church (far more interesting on the outside than inside) I decided to climb the Campanile, or bell tower. Last year, my traveling buddy, Alexis, was fond of saying "feel the burn, love the burn" as we climbed every church dome and tower we found. The third picture is the bell tower, the fourth is a view of the Duomo from the top of the tower. There were 414 steps... surely enough burn to justify a second gelato of the day?!

Welcome to Harrisonburg VA

2007-06-23T18:00:00.000-07:00

I've been in Harrisonburg the last couple of days, finding a home and finding my way around the town in preparation for moving here in August. According to information supplied by the Chamber of Commerce, Harrisonburg is home to about 40,000 people and 140 churches. It is easy to think that a town that is only 2 hours away from Washington DC is "east coast" but I'm thinking it's closer to the south than it seems. I've been called "ma'am" and "honey," and been offered sweet tea at every turn. The endless politeness is quite refreshing, even though I prefer my tea without sugar!

Today's first picture is of the downtown Harrisonburg courthouse. It sits in the middle of a square, surrounded by a clockwise procession of one way streets and a couple of welcoming cafes. It's not the biggest landmark visible - that would be the new science building at James Madison University, currently several ugly stories of building frame on the highest hill.

The second picture is of where you will be able to find me when I'm not home - this is the building that houses the JMU art galleries and the graduate studios. I chose my studio yesterday - it is cool and quiet, and next to that of a very talented photography student who was my guide earlier this spring.

To those who have asked... yes, the Simi house has been rented, and yes, I've found a home here. It's in a quiet old town neighborhood of dutch colonial houses (the east coast equivalent of our California craftsman beauties, complete with columns and wrap-around porches), a short 1.2 miles from the art department building. It is a townhouse, built in 1950, with wood floors and a full basement that will become my home studio. It also has a wonderful second bedroom that will soon be open for guests!

Library!

2007-04-05T21:24:00.000-07:00

This week the road took me to Boise for a couple of days. The first indication of being in a different world was the prop plane I took from Seattle to get here (my first ever prop ride). The second was the state capital building, right in the middle of the main drag into town, all of about 4 miles from the airport.

Boise feels like an older, slower version of Simi that is spread out with plenty of breathing room - that just happens to have a few tall buildings in the center of town, clustered around the capitol. Less than a mile north, the neighborhood morphs into something that feels like old Burbank and old Pasadena - smallish houses that have taken on different character over time and numerous owners - some with the front porches of craftsman architecture that invite you so sit a spell on a gliding bench. A mile to the left of that feels a lot like the Topanga or Santa Susana community. It's small, but roomy... I've been here two days and have been hard pushed to clock 25 miles on the rental car.

The building across the street from the museum is the city library. It's not just a Library, but a Library! Check out the sign - the exclamation point is there! It made me think about the era of my life when the idea of a library had an exclamation point. I was about 11 or 12, and would go there every weekend, looking for the next in the Nancy Drew series, or another Enid Blyton book (she wrote stories that, to me, obviously inspired the school structure of the Harry Potter series). It was there that I borrowed Jane Eyre, Robin Hood and musty Beowulf as a teenager, and LP records of BBC radio productions of Shakespeare plays. "Friends, Romans, Countrymen - Lend me your ears...." That library card was the passport to so many other worlds.

These days I tend to buy rather than borrow, slowly building my own library. Gone are the Nancy Drews, but in their place are a couple of other mystery and thriller series (the Lucas Davenport and Elvis Cole books), and of course art books big and small, thick and thin, and full of luscious pictures of all the art that inspires me. Yes, Library! indeed.

Mission San Xavier

2007-03-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

This morning I squeezed in a quick visit to the San Xavier Mission in Tucson before I headed to the airport to head home.

It is an interesting structure, rising out of the flat of Tucson like a white wedding cake in the desert. It's a little south of the airport, on the edge of the reservation, and in the middle of nothing. The sanctuary was finished in 1797, and has been an active Catholic church since 1911. According to the guide books, it is one of the best examples of Spanish Mission architecture still standing. It's also known as the White Dove of the Desert.

The building is currently in the middle of an ambitious restoration campaign, and thus one of the two front towers of the facade is hidden by scaffolding. The interior is a wonder - heavily carved, covered in murals, and full of wooden figurative statues - more than 50 in all. It was apparently dark and dingy before they cleaned it up, and now it is light and colorful.

The building shows homage to the big European cathedrals - but the execution of it was enacted with local materials, probably by local craftsmen. The result is a delightful blend of big ideas in humble materials. It has buttresses and domes made of textured plaster rather than of stone, with lots of painting to make them look like colored marble. Some of the walls are painted to resemble tapestries and fabrics. The figures have traditional saintly poses, but have more locally ethnic features, and show evidence of being once brightly painted in fiesta-like colors. The saint behind the altar is wearing actual garments.

Sometimes it's difficult to appreciate a mission - I don't care for what they represent as I believe it is beyond arrogant for invaders to shove their faith down the throats of the locals. I think the idea of God is far too vast for the constraints of any one religion. That said, these buildings stand as historical documents, with lessons to impart. As an art history lesson, this one is a peach.

Subtle by comparison

2007-03-18T17:30:00.000-07:00

Long time, no blog. Sorry about that.

This weekend, I'm in Tucson, Arizona. As luck would have it, they are having an unseasonably "warm" snap, not dissimilar to the one we've had in California - just hotter. This is desert, after all. This sure has been a funky year for weather... hotter hots (90's in LA in early March), colder colds (feet of snow in Seattle with my friends Karen and John), unusual flip-flops of season at inappropriate times.

Tucson, on first look, and of course in comparison to Simi Valley, is brown and flat. Neither trees nor buildings out here are very tall, and it all sprawls out on the floor of the valley. The roads follow a pretty easy grid system downtown, although some bright spark decided that it would be cool to have numbered roads in both directions... 6th Street runs north to south, 6th Avenue runs east to west. And yes, there is a section where they weave across each other. I met a gal that owns a coffee shop at 4th and 5th today, and I'd like to stop by tomorrow for breakfast. The odds are good that I'll go to the wrong 4th and 5th first!

Having grown up in Merrye Olde England, I notice green. In Southern California, we have a lot of green because we plant grass in the middle of our desert and water it incessantly. In Tucson, they're a little more environmental about it, planting what grows, embracing what is supposed to be here. The lack of green is shocking, but understanding the eco bent makes up for it. The light is clear, the space expansive, and the natural beauty subtle.

It also occurs to me that I have grown so used to the density of LA that it took me a while to grasp that the town wasn't deserted, just more spread out. They also haven't embraced LA's seeming need to tear everything down every 10 years to start over - or at least to change the facade to the flavor of the decade (remember the Miami Vice pinks and peaches in the 80's?). There are some interesting older buildings, and tons of fabulous old signage, all perfectly serviceable and thus all still standing. I really enjoy how that gives the place character. The picture above is one such character - a building that was once a video store and is still a memorial. It was also heartwarming to see that despite its defunct state, the mural wasn't covered in tags. A subtle respect for the art.

A Penny for the Guy

2006-11-05T08:13:00.000-08:00

Just outside the Tower Hill Tube Stop in London is a sculpture that details major milestones in the city's history, each illustrated in bronze relief on a huge ring in the ground. Today's picture shows Guy Fawkes from that sculpture. Tonight in England is Bonfire Night or Guy Fawkes Night - November 5th.

Back in 1605, a group of men were so upset with the British Government that they hatched a plan to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Thirty six barrels of gunpowder were placed under the House of Lords - and one of the men, Guy Fawkes, was caught with the matches. The English people lit bonfires to celebrate the safety of the king, and Fawkes was tortured and executed (hung, drawn and quartered).

Commemoration of the event lives on in yearly festivities. In the weeks leading to Bonfire Night, effigies of Guy Fawkes are created. Back when I was a youngster, some of Dad's old clothes would be sacrificed to the project, and perhaps an old pillowcase or two from Mum's linen closet to stuff as a body. If you made a particularly good "Guy" you hauled him to the local shops and sat with him, asking passersby for "A penny for the Guy" - hoping that your artwork was worth the tip of a coin or two. Finally, on Bonfire Night, the Guy is placed atop a bonfire and torched. Backyard fireworks round out the pyrotechnics.

Anarchist posters of the early 20th century offered that Fawkes was the only man to ever enter Parliament with honest intentions. One wonders (with tongue in cheek, of course) if the people are celebrating Fawkes' execution, or honoring his intent to seriously shake up government.

Bamboo and Gehry

2006-10-21T08:30:00.000-07:00

The road has taken me to Seattle this weekend, to visit dear friends Karen and John, recently transplanted here from LA.

They've been clever in their exploration of the area, saving visits to the touristy sites for touristy visitors like myself. Thus, yesterday, Karen and I headed down town to the Experience Music Project, a fun few hours of interactive music activities housed in a Frank Gehry creation.

A few months back I saw Disney Hall, LA's own Gehry, so I find that my first impressions of the Seattle building are those of comparison. DH is all silver - EMP has multiple colors. One side is silver, another gorgeous, subtle shades of copper and bronze. But interspersed among the metallic finishes were sections of glossy red, opaque baby blue and iridescent purple. Yuk. It sort of looked like he was testing color concepts on different corners and never really got around to deciding on a final finish. That said, both buildings are marvels of engineering and "How the heck did they do that?" Hats off to the talented folks that make real Gehry's wild visions.

Next to the EMP was a great outdoor sculpture installation of tall, metal bars, abstractly rendering a bamboo fence. They were cleverly created, three layers deep at the base, thinning to one at the top, so they had the ability to flex a little in the wind. As you can see from the picture, it was a lovely, sunny day for such a touristy moment.

Lighting a Candle

2006-10-18T07:03:00.000-07:00

Most of the big churches in Europe offer you countless chances to light a candle as you shuffle quietly through. A euro or two will get you a tea light or a small taper, ten euros will get you a candle in a tall glass jar that will burn for hours.

The above picture is from Sacre Coeur in Paris - taken earlier this year. This was a forbidden picture too, as the entrance vestibule of the basilica is patrolled by a terminally frustrated keeper, yelling stridently at the visitors to variously keep quiet, put their cameras away, and remove their hats. The candles were beautiful, but I was more interested in the shadows.

This summer, Alexis and I lit a lot of candles as we made our way through Europe - she lost an uncle this year, and I lost an aunt and an influential art professor.

We lit candles in Notre Dame and St. Denis in Paris, in St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey in London. St. Peter's in Rome had no candles at all - although plenty of offering boxes. I didn't think much of it, until we went to Santa Maria della Vittoria (the church with Bernini's St. Teresa in Ecstasy). Instead of racks of candles, there were banks of electric candles. Pop a euro in the slot, and one of the flame shaped bulbs lights up. In another Italian church, you get to flip the switch under the candle of your choice. I was so dumbfounded I forgot to take pictures!

We both agreed that flipping the switch took some of the reverence out of the ritual. But when you think about the decade it took to clean the soot out of the Sistine Chapel, perhaps electricity is the more prudent option. At a minimum, the Italians deserve credit for creatively solving the problem.

Women at War - in Memoriam

2006-10-05T15:32:00.000-07:00

This week's Newsweek includes an article about Emily Perez, the first West Point graduate and the 64th woman to die in the current Iraq war.

War memorials can be powerful things. They are complicated too, needing to address many facets of honoring the dead such as inspiring pride in patriotism (raising the flag at Iwo Jima); inspiring awe (the smoke stacks of the USS Arizona); inspiring perpetual gratitude and perpetual remembrance (the perpetual flame of the Australian War Memorial); giving closure to the living (any Tomb of an Unnamed Soldier); and naming the dead (the inimitable Vietnam Veterans Memorial).

Whilst in London this summer, I came across a memorial to The Women of World War II. I think the design is brilliant in the way the artist used fashion - something that women are known for, and often ridiculed for - to illustrate the many roles that women filled during the war. Right down to the hat or bag that went with the job.

It made me appreciate the versatility of the "weaker" sex as they stepped up to help out. It makes me appreciate it still today as I watch the women folk in my life juggle so much (and please understand that this is said with no disrespect to the lot of today's men).

So this one is for the ladies, those here and those gone. Thanks for making me proud to be a woman.

Making your mark

2006-10-04T15:39:00.000-07:00

Graffiti is nothing new. For some reason, making your mark is an animal imperative, and in humans it takes the form of writing and drawing on things - things that society would rather you didn't write and draw on.

In Westminster Cathedral in London, the guide showed us the coronation throne - a wooden throne that has been used for the coronations of English kings and queens for centuries. Once upon a time it was out in the cathedral where you could touch it, and sit on it for a photo. Now it is on a pedestal, awaiting Charles or William - and covered in the initials of countless school children who were probably bored silly whilst on a visit.

I remember the first time I climbed on Stonehenge as a little girl (yes, back then, you could mingle with the stones and sit on them). I remember seeing names carved into the stones and I had a real visceral feeling of sadness about it. It struck me as so wrong, even at such a tender age.

Wrong or not, I find it fascinating as a historical document. Some of the sculptures in St. Denis in Paris were liberally peppered with graffiti, all deeply carved into the marble flesh of the effigies and guardians on the tombs. "Chevrier" even dated his on a saint's knee - in 1618. I doubt it would happen here now as the works are closely guarded, never left alone in the public eye for more than a few minutes. It strikes me that this kind of graffiti isn't really an impulse affair as it would take a true commitment of time to carve out words on marble. Check out "Gabriel Pascot" on the woman's collarbone - the letters have serifs!

I wonder who Chevrier and Gabriel were.

State of the Art

2006-09-11T17:20:00.000-07:00

Santa Barbara hosts an outdoor sculpture exhibition on State Street every year, aptly titled "The State of the Art Gallery." I attended the opening a couple of weeks ago on a brilliant late summer afternoon. You can read more about it at http://www.sbartscommission.org/public.html

One of the pieces was created by my sculpture professor, Matt Furmanski (the guy in the shades with a microphone, talking about the work on opening day). Matt does a lot of really cool work with a very industrial flavor - lots of precision engineered metal and tight craftsmanship, often rendered in a way that creates a conversation with our art history and literary heritage. This piece is called "Crossroads Oracle: A Lantern for Diogenes." It looks like a modified crosswalk post, complete with buttons, except the buttons don't activate the crosswalk, they activate recordings of thought provoking questions. Question asking is a big part of my work also, so you can imagine how much I enjoy this piece. What were the questions? You'll have to go hear for yourself... half the fun is being put on the spot in the middle of the sidewalk!

The piece is at the intersection of State and Ortega. It and the rest of the collection will be on display untill November 17 - and they are well worth a day trip up the coast to visit.

Mosaics - A visit to the Getty Villa

2006-09-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Steve and I went to the Getty Villa for the first time since its reopening early this year. Steve needed to go to research something for an art history paper - I got to tag along for the fun of it (what a role reversal!). For a virtual tour, check out www.getty.edu

The remodel of the Villa is lovely - all of the art has plenty of space to breathe, and is beautifully lit, although there were figurative sculptures along the walls in some places that I would like to have been able to walk around. The Villa houses the Getty's antiquities collection - essentially Greek and Roman goodies from BC times to the fall of the Roman Empire in the form of statues of Greek gods and scads of exceptional Greek pottery.

The thing that stood out for me most, however, were the mosaics - not only those that were artifacts, but those created as part of the decor - many of them built in mesmerizing circular motifs (the first picture is the floor of the Lansdowne Herakles' room). Just about all of the floors had some kind of interesting inlay going on - and in what I thought was a very clever expression of the museum's theme and mission, brass room numbers were also inlaid at the doorways in Roman numerals.

As you may have read in the papers over the last year, the Italian goverment is asking for some of the Getty's antiquities to be returned to them. There is much discussion as to whether the pieces were smuggled or stolen before they arrived in California. I can understand that a country would hate to lose its patrimony, but wouldn't the world's museums be boring if they only held local artwork? How would we learn about other cultures? Doesn't the fascincation with things foreign promote tourism? Isn't tourism the life blood of many a large city?

And lastly, isn't the Vatican home to the largest trove of stolen art?

On the Road with the Art Car

2006-08-16T17:28:00.001-07:00

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

2006-08-09T17:55:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-05T05:37:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-01T16:43:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-01T16:19:00.000-07:00

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!

Differences - and the beauty of bottomless iced tea

2006-07-23T22:55:00.000-07:00

(Finally - got the other pix loaded!)
Here, on my last day in Rome, I find myself far from anxious to return, and before I explain myself let me clarify... I'd be happy to return to a quieter place in Italy, but probably not Rome unless the siren call of the Sistine beckons again.

Rome is harsher than Paris in the way that New York is harsher than LA. The traffic is ceaseless: a green light on the crosswalk is an invitation to sprint because the opposing red light is merely a suggestion. Scooters abound, zipping in and out with a frightening confidence that reminds me of race car drivers who delight in squeezing through a tight spot with a scant inch to spare.

To quote my friend, Bradley, who was here in January, Rome is dirty. They are struggling with horrendous pollution problems that make me grateful that California is tough on emissions. The buildings are grimy, and the trash bins on every corner are overflowing. We went to the Forum and Colosseum yesterday, and were frankly shocked to see garbage amongst the ruins, crusted cigarette butts in the walkways, and evidence that the area was occasionally a crash pad (and frequently a urinal) for the homeless. Perhaps it is because they have so much here - countless structures dating back to the first century of Christianity, more than a handful from the centuries before - that they can be cavalier about what they have. Maybe they are over it, maybe it has been here so long they think it will still be here longer. In California it seems that we seldom revere anything before it hits the 100 year mark, and if it makes it that far, we then put it on a nostalgic pedestal and create laws to protect it. I'm guessing that if we owned the Forum it would now be hermetically sealed in a theme park bio-dome with an exorbitant entrance fee. On second thought, that would be a different kind of tragedy.

I also have to remember that I have the eyes of a tourist, and that if I were to visit LA the way I am visiting Rome, I would likely find myself equally appalled at the carnival of aggressive parasites at every attraction, hawking cheap trinkets and expensive bottled water.

One of the great things about being away from home is garnering a new appreciation for what you take for granted. After countless meals of pasta and pizza, accompanied by $2 bottles of water or $5 cans of Coke, we decided that a Hard Rock Cafe burger was needed. The Hard Rock, like Starbucks and McDonald's, is hardly the best of its genre, but the consistency of product across the world is predictable and comforting. They even had a ceiling of painted angels, playing rock instruments. We had big, juicy burgers with fries and rings. And I had iced tea... an unlimited supply. Bella!

A Bernini Day

2006-07-22T22:29:00.000-07:00

It has been a Bernini day. We went to the Borghese Gallery, where several of Bernini's greatest works of sculpture reside. No pictures allowed, and no sneaking either - they make you check all of your bags save perhaps a wallet before they let you in. http://www.galleriaborghese.it/borghese/en/edefault.htm

Where Michelangelo epitomized the height of the Renaissance (along with Leonardo and others immortalized by the Ninja Turtles), Bernini is the father of Baroque. He arrived on the scene about 100 years after Michelangelo, equally as competent in sculpture and architecture, and changed the course of art in Italy. He was a child prodigy - the Getty has a marble sculpture he made at about 16 years old, if memory serves. Where Michelangelo is all powerful anatomy, Bernini is anatomy in emotion and action - every viewpoint has something to say, something that grabs your attention and takes your breath away. He truly makes marble look like skin, or cloth, or animal pelt, or tree bark. His sculpture of Apollo and Daphne has Daphne turning into a tree as she tries to flee Apollo, leaves sprouting from her fingertips. The audio guide told us that they discovered that those delicate marble leaves ring like crystal when struck. I'd like to know who had the nerve to strike it!

After feasting on the Borghese, we stopped by the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria, home to another of Bernini's masterpieces, St. Theresa in Ecstacy. The church is a small, unassuming building on a crowded corner, with the feel of a local parish inside. The interior could give St. Peter's a run for the money in terms of opulence. Fortunately, pictures were allowed (most of these were exposures of two seconds or more).

"I dono whata" and 320 more steps

2006-07-22T07:29:00.000-07:00

July 22

When in Rome, eat gelato. Rome has been as hot and steamy as Paris. The Italians slow down and close up shop for siesta hour, and we are finding that to be a good practice also. Upon waking, a cool snack is in order, and what better than gelato, in all its different versions.

Yesterday, we followed a guide through the Vatican Museum for a bit - a lovely older lady who spoke English with a delightful Italian lilt that added consonants to the "enda ofa every worda." She had a great sense of humor too, walking the fine line of truth and history, without making anyone uncomfortable. She pointed out that the demon in the lower right corner of the Sistine's Last Judgement was a painted likeness of Biagio da Cesena, the Vatican Master of Ceremonies. Da Cesena critcized Michelangelo the most for his nudes, saying that "it is not a work for the chapel of a pope, but for a tavern." Michelangelo painted da Cesena as Minos, the judge of the damned, complete with a serpent winding about his body and, in the playful words of our guide, "doinga I dono whata" (biting him in the groin). Even the pope rebuffed da Cesena when he complained, saying that if he had been painted in Purgatory he (the pope) could at least pray for his soul, but as he was painted in Hell he was doomed to stay there. And what a Hell it is.

Today's pix are of St. Peter's Basilica, and yes, we climbed its 320 steps to the cuppola (just under the lantern). St. Peter's is immense beyond comprehension - perfectly overwhelming for the awestruck pilgrims and tourists.

La Bella Sistina

2006-07-21T11:56:00.000-07:00

July 21

I'm struggling to say something meaningful about the Sistine Chapel. I have waited a very long time for the opportunity to see it, plotting my vacations, and saving my pennies - literally - the funds for this side trip to Rome came from a jar into which I have been throwing my change for the last eight years.

As a student, I have drawn Michelangelo's Creation of Adam, I have performed informative speeches about the restoration campaign on the ceiling, and I've written essays comparing the Last Judgement to Dante's Inferno (which Michelangelo could recite by heart). I even learned to use Adobe Illustrator by overdrawing Adam. I've lost count of the books about the Chapel that I own. So you get the picture... I really wanted this.

I managed to spend some 20 minutes craning my neck in awe. The photo is one that I snuck with the camera aimed up from the crook of my arm, set to autofocus with a healthy dose of hope and fingers mentally crossed - photography is forbidden, but this time I disobeyed. It came out so well that I'm chalking it up to Michelangelo's blessing.

It was everything I could have ever imagined. The guide said they called him Il Divino Michelangelo - Michelangelo the Divine. I second that.

Trompe l'oeil

2006-07-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

July 20
Trompe l'oeil means "to fool the eye" - it is the term given to any realistic illusion in art. How's this for realistic... it's not a dead tree, it's a bronze sculpture, found in the garden of the Tuileries. I love this kind of art!

130 steps down, 83 up - Momento Mori

2006-07-20T00:48:00.000-07:00

July 19

We students went to the catacombs - where there was blissfully chilly respite from Paris' heat and humidity awaiting us at the bottom of the stairs.

A sign inside proclaims that we have entered the "empire of the dead." The catacombs are a symbiotic relationship of old quarry tunnels and the need to reclaim the land taken up by centuries of burials in the cemeteries (cremation is only now becoming acceptable in France). Each cemetary that was moved bears its own sign, detailing the location and dates of the remains in that section - along with a small pedestal for flowers and such. The exhumed bones are stacked artfully around the signs - mostly the large bones of the arms and legs - ends out, with patterns of skulls grinning between. In art, we call a skull a "momento mori" - something to remind you of death (and to prompt you to take care of your spiritual life while you can). Personally, it reminds me to make sure I fully live this precious life.

And speaking of lives... my dear friends Brendan and Bree welcomed their son on Wednesday - so here's to Michael Andrew Beatty - welcome, young man!

White Guy #3

2006-07-20T00:44:00.000-07:00

This time he was in Montmartre, close to the artist's square where you can get your portrait sketched. My friend Chris got a snap of him in May of this year - since then some one has added the gold mohawk and shorts. Even the graffiti evolves!

Gastronomique

2006-07-17T05:56:00.000-07:00

July 16

Last night Lynda, Paul, Paul's folks and I took Mum and Dad to dinner to celebrate Mum's birthday. We went to a well recommended hotel restaurant that was rather swanky for these peasant parts. The food was sublime - not a bad bite anywhere to be found, and beautiful presentation too. The photos are a couple of examples of the fare (with a nod to Brendan and Bree, who photograph most of their great meals). Bon Appetite!

Press Gang

2006-07-17T05:50:00.000-07:00

July 15

My step-sis and her hubby, Lynda and Paul, also own a house in France, just up the street from my folks' house... The first picture is of Lynda and me. The second is of her house. The third is me painting in her house - all visitors are press-ganged into the remodeling project if they sit still long enough! I suppose any kind of painting can be art!

Bastille Day - Part Deux

2006-07-17T05:45:00.000-07:00

July 14 - evening

We went to the local village fireworks show on the evening of Bastille Day - my brother-in-law reckons there were close to 20,000 people there - and this was a relatively small village show. The fireworks started at 11pm (daylight lasts a long time here). They were choreographed to music, and were good enough to rival Disneyland. One thing to note... both the fireworks and the parking were free. Magnifique!

Bastille Day

2006-07-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

Friday 14 July

Today, I will celebrate Bastille Day (France's equivalent of our Independence day) in St. Yrieix, the closest "big village" to the tiny hamlet, Bourniex, where my parents live. This morning my Mum and I went to the village market for picnic goodies for tonight's fireworks and festivities. The first picture is the village church. The second is the stall of one of the cheese vendors... check out the little stuffed goats next to the chevre (goat cheese). Yum!

Bon fete, mes amis!

Angels in Chains and the Chapel of Kings

2006-07-14T10:03:00.000-07:00

July 13

Saint Chapelle is perhaps one of the lesser known churches in Paris - it's small, so it hardly competes with the physical presence of Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur, nor with the popularity of St. Sulpice since the Da Vinci Code hit the bestseller lists. However, for exquisite stained glass, it can't be beat - and yes, I took pictures to share (rather than merely teasing you with the architecture). It is part of a small palace on the same island as Notre Dame which was used almost exclusively to serve royalty - and it shows. The stained glass is literally breathtaking - my friend Diana, a stained glass afficionado, was speechless as she walked into the chapel yesterday.

Of course, I also perused the outside, looking for interesting architecture and gargoyles. It looks like the keepers are warming up to some restoration work, as there are piles of stones and stacks of column elements behind the fence that surrounds the chapel. There was also the angel, hand in blessing, feet on an upside down turtle (whose meaning confounds me), held delicately balanced in place by straps and cables. His demeanor seemed patient to me - probably a good thing as restorations seem to take a very long time.

Chartres - and 300 more steps

2006-07-13T02:12:00.000-07:00

July 12

A few fellow students and I decided to head to Chartres yesterday after life drawing class. According to the guide books, Chartres is one of the most pure versions of Gothic church architecture still standing, as the building campaign for the exterior structure was completed in about 60 years - some serious motoring when you consider the lack of power tools.

The structure is beautiful, with soaring ribbed vaults. This is usually my favorite part of church architecture as I like the repeating pattern and line in the columns and ribs. And then there is the stained glass, which I soon find overwhelming. I know that the glass had its reasons beyond beauty and glory to God - it was the cartoon book of Bible stories for the illiterate. But it is so detailed, so small, and so very high up - how did the people read it without binoculars? Or a guide book?! It turns out that there were several perfect holes in the stained glass that made beams of light across the church - now these I could understand!

There was an opportunity to climb the north tower, so several of us did. One thing to note... the English charge you to see their big churches, with the pain of climbing the towers and domes being optional once you are in. The French let you into their churches for free, but they charge you to climb - it seems quite rude to make you pay for the pain! The views were, of course, breathtaking - you could see the famous flying buttresses and could get quite friendly with a gargoyle or two.

Apologies for the blur in the interior pictures - these were long handheld exposures. Enjoy!

White Guy #2

2006-07-13T02:10:00.000-07:00

July 12

This time he's riding a magic carpet... on the shutters of a carpet shop!

The Master

2006-07-13T02:07:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 11 July

Some people call Michelangelo the Master, and most of the time I agree with that. But when I stand in front of a Rodin sculpture I waver. Rodin, too, revered Michelangelo, and you can see the homage in several works. Rodin understood what Michelangelo was trying to say and took it a step further, crashing through boundaries and challenging the establishment of his time - just like Michelangelo.

The pix today are a couple of Rodin's works from a visit to the Musee Rodin. One is a small version of the Three Shades. These guys were made for the top of the Gates of Hell. It is actually the same figure repeated three times - rather clever of Rodin to give us several views of the same thing all at once, as it certainly punches up the impact.

The second is La Defense, a work that is not as widely known, but is very much one of my favorites. The female figure is the winged French warrior woman, sometimes known as Victory, other times refered to as Bellona. At her feet is a dying soldier, giving the piece a distinct reference to a Pieta. But it is Bellona that captivates - Rodin put such emotion into her pose with arms outstretched, hands fisted, one wing curling back. She is angry, shouting, triumphant, and terrifying all in one moment. Mastery indeed.

Just a few pictures

2006-07-11T07:45:00.000-07:00

Back in Paris again... here are a few pictures from the trip to London. Tomorrow we are off to Chartres Cathedral - I hope they let us take pix inside there (the churches in London didn't)

Never as big as it seems

2006-07-09T02:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we took in the British National Gallery. So many works that I have seen over the years in art history books, by the glitterati of the art world - Holbein, Titian (loads of them), Rubens, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Van Eyck, and Vermeer. Here's a link to the gallery's website if you want to go for a virtual wander around the works:
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/

Raphael's 'Madonna of the Pinks' was there. This was one the Getty tried to buy a couple of years ago (for about $50 mil if memory serves) but they were outbid by a British law that allows British institutions to fundraise to match the selling price. She isn't pink, as the title would indicate - the Christ child is holding pinks, which are small flowers like miniature carnations. The painting is less than 12 inches on any side - tiny. For $50 mil. Yeah.

The other painting that surprised me was Van Eyck's 'Arnolfini Wedding Portrait,' which they now seem to think wasn't a wedding portrait at all. Like the Mona Lisa, it is far smaller than my mind had imagined it from the history books - barely two feet tall. But unlike Miss Mona, it delivers well - and we could get our noses within a foot of it. The details of the fabrics are sublime - velvet, tapestry, lace, fur. The dude had serious chops.

In a switch up of size impressions, they were showing the Leonardo drawing of The Virgin and St. Anne, with Jesus and John the Baptist. You get used to drawings being the size of a decent sketchbook. This one is almost as tall as me. http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/cgi-bin/WebObjects.dll/CollectionPublisher.woa/wa/work?workNumber=ng6337

Awesome. (sorry Larry!)

530 Steps and the Killer Queen

2006-07-08T03:41:00.000-07:00

We climbed St. Paul's Cathedral yesterday - 530 steps to the lantern, fortunately in three stages so we could catch our breath and stretch our calves. London seems to be booming with construction as there were cranes everywhere on all horizons - picture to follow at some point - though not of the inside of the cathedral as this was forbidden :-(

I managed to seriously partake of the food of my childhood yesterday - meals of fish 'n' chips with Guinness, bangers and mash, and treacle pudding and custard for a finale. I might even have converted Alexis on the treacle pud (wicked, evil laughter here).

We finished the evening at the theatre again, with the sell-out show the critics love to hate, We Will Rock You (UK version!). A delightfully silly musical, with over-the-top wigs and a hokey storyline - but all of the Queen music played live by a fantastic band. We were, indeed, the Champions!

Mind the Gap!

2006-07-07T02:19:00.000-07:00

Friday July 7th - London

One of the nice things about the CSUCI program is that it leaves us the weekends to travel. So off to London for Alexis (a fellow student and pal) and me for this, the first weekend of the trip. The internet cafe will not allow me to upload pictures to go with the posts, but I promise to add them when I get back my own computer and the school's wifi. Technology is a wonderful thing - especially when it actually cooperates.

From the musty, mechanical, vaguely electrical smell of the Tube to the waft of a proper English breakfast eminating from our B&B kitchen this morning, it smells like home. It will undoubtedly turn into a food pilgrimage for me: proper cups of tea, even in Starbucks (which incidentally are kitted out exactly the same as in CA); sausage rolls; little cups of outrageously expensive ice cream at the theatre (Chicago last night, Avenue Q tonight if the half price ticket booth obliges). I must find fish and chips today.

Alexis is navigating the tube well already - that it is not in French has added to her comfort level, despite the fact that they talk funny and fast here. She thinks all the Mind the Gap announcements, signs and souvenirs are hysterical. We've even found it printed on underwear. Quite brilliant, that!

The Faces of Versailles

2006-07-06T01:43:00.000-07:00

Wednesday July 5 - Versailles

Versailles is incomprehensibly huge. Even standing in front of the building, it's hard to wrap your mind around the size of the estate - it apparently stretches some eight miles. When my friend, Linda, said that it took her a couple of hours to walk the gardens I thought she was dawdling - now I understand that she was probably motoring at a decent clip.

Louis XIV's reign was long, but it still seems like it would never be enough time to build something like this. The small opera house inside took two years alone to construct. Much of the art is pure
propaganda, designed to stress the absolute rule of the monarchy, and the supreme power of France at the time. There is so much gilt, marble, and ornamentation that it soon becomes overwhelming. The face in the picture is one of many I found in the garden's endless sculpture. It pretty much expresses how I felt at the end of the chateau tour!

Paris wore many faces too, last night. In case you don't follow soccer (and I usually don't) France advanced to the finals of the World Cup. The streets were a delirious party of fire eaters, flags,
fireworks, and frenetic celebration. It didn't quiet down until the sun came up. I wonder what the traditional French cure is for hangovers!

The White Guy

2006-07-04T11:11:00.000-07:00

Paris has some quite interesting grafitti. There's a lot that looks pretty much like the stuff in LA (or, I imagine, New York) - the big graphic tagger art, obviously done on the quick with spray cans. But then there is the White Guy, as we have dubbed him. So far, we've seen him four times, the attached picture being the first. He's mostly around the neighborhood of our school, but we have found one far afield.

I wonder what his story is - or more so, I wonder about the artist that created him. But then, perhaps, the wonder is good. I hope to find more.

Happy Independence Day!

The Red Door

2006-07-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

3rd July 2006 (posted late due to technical difficulties!)

Paris is full of interesting doors. Some newly painted, others showing thick evidence of many changes of color. Door handles in the middle, door handles to one side. With or without a big brass knocker - if with, then perhaps ornamental, animal, even ferocious. I've always thought that it would be wonderful to have a red door. I got my wish.

The door to our apartment is red. The door to the courtyard that accesses it (see photo) is also red. The back door to a lovely little boulangerie shares the couryard, filling the space with melt-in-your-mouth aroma. It is a cruel joke that for today, Monday, our first full, non jet-laggy day of vacation, the bakery is closed. It's a good thing I sampled their wares yesterday!

A pint in a half pint pot

2006-06-30T05:16:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me well know that I have a fascination with words and colorful language usage - to clarify: colorful as in richly descriptive, not necessarily profane - although, as a sailor's daughter, I'm not squeamish about that either.

As I survey the incredible pile of stuff that must make its way into two bags by the end of this day, I could hear my dad's english brogue saying, "That's like trying to put a pint in a half pint pot." Interesting how many of these old adages float up in the memory with the voices of our parents or grandparents doing the honors. Yes, Dad - it surely is!

Whassup

2006-06-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

For those of you who might not have known (surely I gushed to everyone?!), I'm headed to Europe for the month of July. CSUCI put together a trip to Paris for artists, and the planets aligned to allow me to sign up. The adventure starts at a rather rude hour in the dark of Saturday morning... so watch this space to see what unfolds.

Trying to figure it all out

2006-06-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

I thought blogging might be easier on all my pals than emails with big images to download... but now I'm on the learning curve of the tool. Ha!

What would life be without such adventures?