The Italian musicians in Piazza Garibaldi are singing “Hallelujah.”
We listen from the terrazzo, where life feels grand. (Hallelujah!)
Portraits of the Artists
20 Sunday Sep 2015
Posted in Uncategorized
Monthly Archives: September 2015
Juxtapositions
20 Sunday Sep 2015
Art in the city, they take seriously here. It is forever showing up, juxtaposed, in public places (like the modern sculpture that stands in the Palazzo Comunale; or the competing time pieces that are affixed below the palace tower).
On any given day, the theme can be extended inside. In anticipation of “Arte in Citta,” modern paintings are displayed on the second floor of a much older place.
When you walk in and start upstairs, the two murals compete for your attention. When you move from room to room, you don’t know where to fix your gaze: on the bold, modernist colors and shapes or on more common household furniture. So very different, in effect, than those gilded frames on museum walls.
Al fresco?
20 Sunday Sep 2015
Not far from TeBrow, site of many an outdoor cappuccino, appears what seems to be (to my untrained eye) a fresco. It is, at the very least, painted on a wall. And from the state of its disrepair, I can imagine it was executed on a freshly laid, or wet, plaster. But what is it doing outside in the first place? (And why, once again, is a window sneaking a peek into the corner of it?) All very lovely, all questions aside.
Terrace Walls?
20 Sunday Sep 2015
Posted in Uncategorized
To get to a string of (modest?) homes, hanging off the mountain side, you have to make your way down a passage (on foot) or up an alley (by well-dented car).
I aim to learn the history of town walls, their purpose and positioning. One marker refers to “terrace walls” before over-complicating the story.
At least for now, in the course of the day, Rebecca and I fully enjoy the flowers.
At the Near End of the Steps, the Wall Begins
20 Sunday Sep 2015
At the near end of the street, the steps begin to climb beside the wall.
Since we are always out too late in the morning, we wisely turn away.
Straight up isn’t exactly our idea of the best way to tackle the Cyclops
(which the historical marker explains in a lesson for yet another day).
Book Ends
20 Sunday Sep 2015
Two sides to this story: the one, it be Roman.
The other, she be roaming too close to the sign
with that beckoning word (setting sail) in Italian.
Unimposing
18 Friday Sep 2015
Two tourists walk into a square. (There is no punch line to follow.)
All Spoleto stands before them, with Rebecca and I trailing behind.
They stop, momentarily, in front of Chiesa di S. Gregorio Maggiore.
Nothing about the little church imposes its will upon their innocence.
Reluctant to impose, we too pass on without passing on our prejudice.
(Though truth be told, Spoleto ranks it in their Short Trekking Top 10.)
And who knows? Maybe they came back, after all, to gaze in wonder.
As have we, as we always do, when in search of solemn peace and quiet.
May these images ease the burden of not imposing (about the unimposing.)
Saved for a later shoot: the darker, smaller spot of a previous incarnation.
Rules of the Trade
18 Friday Sep 2015
Posted in Education
Apprentice to a trade, I am unclear of the ground rules.
What, for instance, is in the public domain? (Or, rather, who?)
Of the broom, I feel certain. But I hesitate to intrude upon the sweeper, and so I can barely bring myself to shoot from the hip.
What I wanted, of course, was the old-world tool. But how do you separate the sweeper from the swept?
Two answers to the rhetorical question present themselves. Which do I use?
-
- The sweeper
-
- The swept
As You Like It, Match Pixels to Words (Part 2)
18 Friday Sep 2015
Posted in Travel
On icons, I emote.
18 Friday Sep 2015
Posted in Uncategorized
“Read the manual, dear” has been a steady refrain, alas, for much of the trip.
Which I would gladly do (read the manual, that is), given my long-standing objection to icons.
(I am thinking especially of Ikea furniture instructions, though I am not opposed on principle to mentioning road signs of a certain ilk.)
So, to reiterate, I would gladly give up railing at the icons on my camera for a few words of explanation, were they reachable on the internet.
But between icons and the Wi-Fi, in brief, I rail indiscriminately. (If I spoke icon, I would signal my emotions here pictorially.)