tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14783701107794412932024-03-04T20:16:04.383-08:00RomaAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-25365939882320612692010-11-14T11:23:00.000-08:002010-11-14T11:39:21.325-08:00ROME IS ETERNAL<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_zBk_01E3-LhkBhqoH7UC-_SJUGh4_1BghFM1islydMn8gJQNKmV5-Q406pYLDqUvVg3o6Z4fiClAQE6IMQ75MGEB01gRs89eO6CgucKDBJa6U3daeLwuhhmQddTQNIPY1AQ5aTDxW0/s1600/IMG_1053.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_zBk_01E3-LhkBhqoH7UC-_SJUGh4_1BghFM1islydMn8gJQNKmV5-Q406pYLDqUvVg3o6Z4fiClAQE6IMQ75MGEB01gRs89eO6CgucKDBJa6U3daeLwuhhmQddTQNIPY1AQ5aTDxW0/s320/IMG_1053.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539488739235101570" /></a><br /><br />ROME IS ETERNAL:<br /><br />So I return October 29th through November 9th for my show at Cinoteca, The National Archive at wondrous Sala Trevi, a gem of a modern theatre hung over a 2000 year old ruin and continuously running water. The Roman aquifer astonishes me: this many years through drought and sun! My friend, the poet Benoît Gréan picks me up at Fiumicino and we drive to the Academy where I see Lauren Kinnee, last year's Fellow at the Gate—she shouts: <span style="font-style:italic;">its just like last year, i feel at home.</span> And where Kathryn Moore (last year's two-year fellow as well) leaves me a key for Cryptoporticus piano room so that i have an 'office' from which to work. I leave my tech suitcase there to be joined the next day with film camera and video—and we go up to Benoît's delightful apartment overlooking the Piazza di Santa Maria Chiesa in Trastevere.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYF9dOTG5vwY95XQilg3OZVwPCYk28eG_uh2a6JztnbNRsa7UL7zxKQ_ZzrCFFNbHTRfnSZHhQupac8W8TaDow8bxG_6-5-vv5nyFdwnzPs8JR1icFMFn4KiBX31wzPebYa1pYdzhCa0/s1600/IMG_1048.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYF9dOTG5vwY95XQilg3OZVwPCYk28eG_uh2a6JztnbNRsa7UL7zxKQ_ZzrCFFNbHTRfnSZHhQupac8W8TaDow8bxG_6-5-vv5nyFdwnzPs8JR1icFMFn4KiBX31wzPebYa1pYdzhCa0/s320/IMG_1048.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539488724262609218" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN_26JM6GHES-kp8Wg2rqpwruRdNmJsfI2UzM3qNxJCPbJ2_3VOGQFuq7Kiq3fIuRqcAA249LD4uWfqQ-xhpi0rboaRv13aBdAUTxw-Qg5ThmlyqrpEtaBktBWpaS3AHBfGguuSAfhh0/s1600/IMG_0953.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN_26JM6GHES-kp8Wg2rqpwruRdNmJsfI2UzM3qNxJCPbJ2_3VOGQFuq7Kiq3fIuRqcAA249LD4uWfqQ-xhpi0rboaRv13aBdAUTxw-Qg5ThmlyqrpEtaBktBWpaS3AHBfGguuSAfhh0/s320/IMG_0953.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539488719277305154" /></a><br />I sleep two hours and then B. hustles me over to Sala Trevi where we watch a B comedy in Italian. I hear more Italian in these 11 days than I will have the last 11 months up at the Academy. By the end of the week i can understand the slower speakers round a lunch table. Marvelous!<br /><br />The city is familiar to walk in. Still turns and walls I don't recognize but a certain kind of 'there i have been' and there and there, ecco la. We end the night with dinner for 10 at the fabulous house of Francisco in Trastevere (all the artists seem to live here on the climbing quiet(er) hill west of the river. Francisco comes from Palermo and he sold a house there to buy this apartment loaded with art. Francisco does costumes for the opera and there is a German editor here as well, an Italian philosopher and a colleague of F. who was assistant costume designer for Sophia Coppola's <span style="font-style:italic;">Marie Antoinette</span>. Very nice crowd and certo, a fantastic 7 course meal! Including pate and orecchie (little ears) pasta made with nuts since it is autumn. We are happily stuffed, i nearly asleep but by being forced to stay up i am instantly over jet lag and with the help of Melatonin, sleep each night (until the end— but more on that).<br /><br />Next day I climb to the Academy (intending to hit every stair up from Trastevere and indeed i do over the next 11 days) to meet Mary Doyle my marvelous assistant with camera and we plug everything in and talk, plan and organize. Having the basement room is a godsend as is access to the web in the Salone. Benoît's web access is acting up so Mary comes back with me to help Benoît's set up and yes she can solve it—better and quicker than the endless help line phone calls he was making. We are due for dinner at Annie's, a French literature professor. Somewhat like Henry James, Benoît has dinner engagements 3 or 4 times a week. Tall, skinny, birdlike, everyone likes to cook for him! Another 7 course meal, this time a pasta with a bit of hot pepper and a marvelous veal en daube--perhaps the best i have every eaten. Gelato for dessert after wonderful salad and once again we are able to stroll home, stopping on route through Trastevere to look at for-rent posters since B. has to move from his delightful rookery come spring. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJMjKYy6PB6Fhh4Mm_s2pdUTmrDWBo6X2uQ38Z7QmPRq9IXg3vCiSLDh3x2hk7U79N6QSTj71nBF9SGr3Vo5nXQ8U6ItMOscXo-GpIqpe2Z4ZKAOGYsU0tG59BcwKgABy09R485yqwGI/s1600/IMG_0944.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJMjKYy6PB6Fhh4Mm_s2pdUTmrDWBo6X2uQ38Z7QmPRq9IXg3vCiSLDh3x2hk7U79N6QSTj71nBF9SGr3Vo5nXQ8U6ItMOscXo-GpIqpe2Z4ZKAOGYsU0tG59BcwKgABy09R485yqwGI/s320/IMG_0944.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539488722792762658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmdOcqRcaw4y9o2mIOuh14M2C7sg0Pny45BB4qrbAjKbEL-S1jWLbh0qDX28oySTjwuPWN56Cp_zyBgUv3A8FtcThYfZsdhJGoduRUKUfunhlxpzNrPnX7DqOZigt7LIpxZdVKr3S818/s1600/IMG_0943.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmdOcqRcaw4y9o2mIOuh14M2C7sg0Pny45BB4qrbAjKbEL-S1jWLbh0qDX28oySTjwuPWN56Cp_zyBgUv3A8FtcThYfZsdhJGoduRUKUfunhlxpzNrPnX7DqOZigt7LIpxZdVKr3S818/s320/IMG_0943.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539488710864685202" /></a> <br /><br />Sunday i show up at the Academy to record Kathryn on piano. She tires after a while and the sun is lost since the rains have come —it is November—how could i have forgotten? i build a fire with help of Lauren and her new beau Sam, so get that scene with more closeups. Which is wonderful—I needed it. I stay for Sunday dinner though it is just Kathryn and me— we get to gab and she shows me the wonderful book that inspired her by her professor at U of Virginia---must get title.......beautifully produced like an art book. She makes a great soup which is perfect for the chill.<br /><br />Monday it is rainy again for the Day of the Dead. We make plans and then stay home. Benoît cooks up some fresh ravioli and salad and finally at 3...the days are going dark. Daylight savings went away--[why? why?!] —we go to Verano on the east side of Rome, the big cemetery. On the day of the dead, families bring flowers. Lauren Sunstein, my friend from the last year (whose mother remarkably wrote one of the major books on Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley and our paths crossed by chance) says she goes the next day and it is touching as every stone is covered in flowers. Today in the rain, the dark blacks of stones we wandered among a few folks, many flowers. Above there is a section that is not laid out square but with round buildings and paths round them and reminded my of nothing so much as the Etruscan tombs at Cerveteri. Beautiful and not so beautiful sculpture, fascist period architecture and statuary , many gorgeous sleeping (!) men and painted poignant portraits that reminded me of Russian tombs. All this construction, the futile attempt to save humans from 'oblivion'. That taking care of the dead is a first sign of civilization both makes sense and not to me, or perhaps the largeness of this memoriam is what does NOT make sense. It is a last illusion—to make death look like life under the guise of giving the dead a welcome. Dead is like a period at the end of the sentence. It does not need a hat.<br /><br />We stop by Lauren's on the way home and find she knows some of the people that Benoît knows. Once again we discover the boheme of Rome are a small(ish) crowd, and or that artists conjoin. That night we go out with Florantin and Siruda—the name of some epic poem or opera? Norwegian crossed with French lyric perhaps? Florantin is past colleague of Benoît and Siruda his Tajikistan wife. Very nice people with energy that was more than i had seen at the dinners——was it the dinners were more formal? Or what Benoît sometimes says about Italy all together: that it is tired? Florantin works for the World Bank (boo) and does good things (cuts through red tape, yea) and had an enthusiasm. also two children so that Siruda's energy was a bit different. We have delicious fish meal, we all eat way too much. Home again through Trastevere looking for B's new home.<br /><br />Tuesday we go to Bormarzo. Takes a while to get out of the city; the traffic is immense, noisy. B is still on long weekend off, weather grey and not for shooting though rain is holding off and in the country the trees are lushly yellow, the sun shines weakly from behind, there is an immanence of light along the forest . The parqui di mostri is a l6th century folly, a testament to love: when Giulia Farnese died, her husband Prince Pier Francesco Orsini called upon architect Pirro Ligorio to create a "Villa of Wonders" in homage to her. (Orsini was called upon to complete St. Peters in Rome after Michelangelo died, and built the Villa d'Este in Tivoli, so he was no weekend tinkerer, to be sure.) Like some fairy tale come true—out of the stones in the forest come a whales mouth, a turtle bigger than a garden house, two giants fighting, a mouth of a monster like a grotesque Halloween stone pumpkin, a salone lined with giant pinecones and acorns (loved that). Quite beautiful and strange, mythology alive or rather illustrated. Could not take out tripod so shot with canon and we will see (this is my current mantra). <br /><br />On way back we head off to Chia to search for Pasolini's Tower. We spot it in the distance and walk towards it but are almost immediately sidetracked by a stream and l5th century stone mills fallen apart but you can still see where the water has been forced into a smaller channel to build up pressure. We get lost we climb. We are not wearing hiking clothes nor shoes but we move forward. B. has laid out the challenge and of course i follow. At one point we say we hope we dont have to go back the same way as we have been climbing and it is getting dark and then we run into a metal locked door. We turn round and retrace our steps appreciating still the wildness the water--muddy grey dun colored seasonal. We find another path back off the road this one dryer faster how did we miss it? And again a locked metal wall. I get up on B's head but there is nothing to be seen . Pasolini has protected his privacy well.<br /><br />We head on to Viterbo hoping to do a <span style="font-style:italic;">terme</span>, or bath, but in the fast approaching dark we miss it and go on back to the city for a restaurant that Fellini loved. We have chestnut soup it is in season and buy 'dead fingers' the cookies only made this time of year at a lovely Forno. On our way back , B can't read the signs well. I read them for him but we get lost and at one point we are circling a traffic circle multiple times, like something out of Jacques Tati's films. It is hysterical, we can't stop laughing. We ask directions a few times and B says yes, drives out and then is again completely lost. Even i can understand the directions but they still don't always make sense or rather, we can't remember, rather than ask to write them down, B does not want to be impolite! So struck i am by this/his craziness, we laugh and laugh. Another adventure.<br /><br />I must continue this later as i have a show for tonight, so soon miei amici, a presto<br />AbigailAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-12929660904634466802010-09-13T12:34:00.000-07:002010-09-13T15:28:33.869-07:00<w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Gill Sans"; panose-1:2 11 5 2 2 1 4 2 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} span.shorttext {mso-style-name:short_text;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--><span class="shorttext">l'ultimo messaggio ultimo</span> <o:p></o:p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">September 11th, 2010<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Okay this is the last last last message for my Rome blog. I return home to NYC September 9th, 2010 exactly 12 months to the day, leaving September 9, 2009. I have been in Nova Scotia since August 4th, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyXBRkGngm8xD2bio5MlGalyeVZ2q3dzvziBkPINcS-RberhkcfPXFzQl9DsDZf1NMJXPcoxGF-oMzYt4Z6qHEpqEgMfsCEox6XwwdD_MMoC_5UCBQqhHFGD8RAUQKmsVM-gPUjsIUzE/s1600/IMG_0201.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cCEDsMiWL7L0MGhWgqQaRnK36SvDzVCArCNvBv366A5D06-ZYnYX5aAVaKz0owF7frOKEmliPJZ2NFZ5lEwEhuucoTuFTG4mFbAOxCihP_fPKP3yIU93Y1P25kKpHNnWdlwbE55QDpI/s1600/IMG_0186.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XoWrEA2u9yltGW-vwz7zsg5xstmWASSPLYdTfzkjLDO_8zl4_sXCFKLCVVeILPv2n2QUFPce26TnN4MngGuPPOibgc56cucluHcYH-EQ3IbeQDcd6Gmf0QEOvE1JAKitsgdeatLuFR4/s1600/IMG_0194.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XoWrEA2u9yltGW-vwz7zsg5xstmWASSPLYdTfzkjLDO_8zl4_sXCFKLCVVeILPv2n2QUFPce26TnN4MngGuPPOibgc56cucluHcYH-EQ3IbeQDcd6Gmf0QEOvE1JAKitsgdeatLuFR4/s320/IMG_0194.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485629084407778" border="0" /></a>where the world was another kind of fantasy—apart from Rome but gorgeous. Here below aand above are some fotos of Nova amazement. and Mt. Desert as well—for the swimmers among you.<br />The ocean got warm the last two weeks and the air hot—Nova Scotians say 'blistering' but to New Yorkers and Romans, "hot" in sun is accurate.<br />so much so we go from one entrance to the sea to the next—adventureland in the north atlantic. spectacular. for a moment you almost can imagine it is tropical....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclC8k7Ssv44Vpilv0xba_H_9_uEVbp4drTtqbal_tCYSVgo_Ws8CF4icP5h86qDevUSe2VzJ1lC7gOY7tHnP28aWFZHtOp-wjwwiMIH4-Sn5X18_4dCGFwrjhnofnvmS91YohfN3B8oo/s1600/IMG_0170.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclC8k7Ssv44Vpilv0xba_H_9_uEVbp4drTtqbal_tCYSVgo_Ws8CF4icP5h86qDevUSe2VzJ1lC7gOY7tHnP28aWFZHtOp-wjwwiMIH4-Sn5X18_4dCGFwrjhnofnvmS91YohfN3B8oo/s320/IMG_0170.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485614595722130" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyXBRkGngm8xD2bio5MlGalyeVZ2q3dzvziBkPINcS-RberhkcfPXFzQl9DsDZf1NMJXPcoxGF-oMzYt4Z6qHEpqEgMfsCEox6XwwdD_MMoC_5UCBQqhHFGD8RAUQKmsVM-gPUjsIUzE/s1600/IMG_0201.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cCEDsMiWL7L0MGhWgqQaRnK36SvDzVCArCNvBv366A5D06-ZYnYX5aAVaKz0owF7frOKEmliPJZ2NFZ5lEwEhuucoTuFTG4mFbAOxCihP_fPKP3yIU93Y1P25kKpHNnWdlwbE55QDpI/s1600/IMG_0186.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cCEDsMiWL7L0MGhWgqQaRnK36SvDzVCArCNvBv366A5D06-ZYnYX5aAVaKz0owF7frOKEmliPJZ2NFZ5lEwEhuucoTuFTG4mFbAOxCihP_fPKP3yIU93Y1P25kKpHNnWdlwbE55QDpI/s320/IMG_0186.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485622402832290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyXBRkGngm8xD2bio5MlGalyeVZ2q3dzvziBkPINcS-RberhkcfPXFzQl9DsDZf1NMJXPcoxGF-oMzYt4Z6qHEpqEgMfsCEox6XwwdD_MMoC_5UCBQqhHFGD8RAUQKmsVM-gPUjsIUzE/s1600/IMG_0201.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyXBRkGngm8xD2bio5MlGalyeVZ2q3dzvziBkPINcS-RberhkcfPXFzQl9DsDZf1NMJXPcoxGF-oMzYt4Z6qHEpqEgMfsCEox6XwwdD_MMoC_5UCBQqhHFGD8RAUQKmsVM-gPUjsIUzE/s320/IMG_0201.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485634879809282" border="0" /></a>then Boston for 'orientation' via Maine (see below),<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JfiMWse81Ib0LMnhBpImQOqTukxGzL6BMvO4cgLON80jwrLM2UFomNyE40RJIvI61WdMoSwJQ_m642FPbGJ8Cci3_rUfbhOvMum1c7scAHXhGHEuSIMu3P974y8jGni93IgGD7ZpVRM/s1600/IMG_0226.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JfiMWse81Ib0LMnhBpImQOqTukxGzL6BMvO4cgLON80jwrLM2UFomNyE40RJIvI61WdMoSwJQ_m642FPbGJ8Cci3_rUfbhOvMum1c7scAHXhGHEuSIMu3P974y8jGni93IgGD7ZpVRM/s320/IMG_0226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516485646161620450" border="0" /></a> then up to Vermont for Labor Day weekend, then first week of school. Now home finally.</p><p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">As Benoit writes: <i style="">"Trying not to sink and stay open to new proposals."</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /><i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Indeed. AAR becomes even more remarkable, paradisical in memory and surely divine in comparison to working for a living. No surprise there even as I feel in transition very floaty and not down to earth yet. I don't want to "come down."</p><p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">New York is glorious. Today like 9 years ago, a cloudless blue sky: heat building in the day, cool enough for a jacket at night. My apartment is strange homey odd familiar noisy sunny gritty fabulous plants blossoming tropistically and a double<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"> rainbow in Vermont as closing dollop to my international and national travels.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Just back so I am still seeing drs (routine checkups et al) and unpacking. In Rosebay, I got to string together dailies (from film) and think it <span style=""> </span>is going to work—very emotional with a strong narrative arc [which I will confuse of course]. we will see. I received in mail today a cd from the composer Alessandro Alessandrani [the italian composer whom i met that last day before leaving Rome who worked with Moricone]. Such a whirlwind that month, this last year, everything. Great great visions in my head: Italy and rome and Florence and naples and procida and Sicily and cairo. Mind changing.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Boxes arrived easily and whole. For anyone at AAR this is the way to go. Painfully confusing but then again easy once you know the routine. Very cheap.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Saw art and films at PS 1 on Saturday and then out with a friend for vegetarian meal. Still spoiled by Mona and her crew at the AAR though; nothing compares. Sunday to see Henry's film at Anthology: wild 'document' of John Zorn's collaboration with Richard Foreman. Sound was held back and beautiful silent opening. Nice to see and to see friends there: Bruce and Sally, Peggy and Keith, Nada and <span style=""> </span>Adeena.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">I just bought ticket to return to Rome to shoot pickups, get my camera, figure out lab and see friends and visit Sienna. I am excited. Feels great to return to a place I know that remains expansive and gorgeous. My memory that the weather will still be beautiful and a bit cool. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">RE the film, haven't gotten to edit in last two weeks, since leaving Nova Scotia, what with travel, taxes and teaching. The three Ts! As I was closing out my time there, I had begun to put words onto the image and it seems clear it needs voiceover for some of the words. I have to find a logic, a theoretical base, for which is which. One line for history? One for emotion? One for observation? One for questions? This will be interesting, challenging<span style=""> </span>and likely tough —it is really a crux of the film's structure.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Yael comes next week and we will have a day working and Gisburg just skyped to talk about China film and upcoming mix—so we are slowly very slowly picking up steam.<span style=""> </span>[Henry saw me on bike and thought I was driving very slow! Probably was, both to look around and because my city bike is a junker!)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">More to do regarding drs and bills and taxes. Commuting and feeling poorer than last year even with our tiny stipend! How can that be?<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">The question of the last two weeks: how is memory different from, better than photos, or is it? Does one feel more accurate? More dense? More personal? The question is of course one of technology. Technology increasing our memory sites, jogging memory we might say, but then again what have we lost 'taking' the pictures in the moment from the moment, and then again how has the brain changed in its reliance on those small black boxes we call cameras.<span style=""> </span>All this seems highly relevant as I charge through my brain for images of the last months and scour the photos I have made. A very different set of sites/sights greets me in these dual un parallel processes. If not absolutely different, certainly the sense of the streets, the darkness, the smells and placement of bodies in space. What Henry's montage erased in his piece on Foreman/Zorn; the cutting dissembled space. Not a critique of the film but a recognition that there are alternative visions. And the ways to see are multiple<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">A good end there then.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Many thanks to you who read. Please let me know who you are and for now—</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><span class="shorttext"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">molti abbracci<br />ai miei amici<br />con amore</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;">Abby<br /><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-67493987105419695422010-08-21T20:15:00.000-07:002010-08-21T20:24:32.192-07:00August 21 Rosebay<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPQWXLh84_vWos5E02A-9_uz_xCiP8xwYzdSqmCimCjCQzMM_BfQaw0QTwNdVaYvfZmTzuNKVrINpKganxTSI3oQU4JNGpci1xtswSoE3zfgHBqQhlevd7cIC5c8sqty1YczT3mBXx0Q/s1600/IMG_0041.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPQWXLh84_vWos5E02A-9_uz_xCiP8xwYzdSqmCimCjCQzMM_BfQaw0QTwNdVaYvfZmTzuNKVrINpKganxTSI3oQU4JNGpci1xtswSoE3zfgHBqQhlevd7cIC5c8sqty1YczT3mBXx0Q/s320/IMG_0041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508068576490059634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nhBR5UTA99xz78ZYZRGK8VhDkrylggCj0MXb9YtcfxpisWLDfyIN9znUV9S83pr75idiujCKoBy4SVDuFL3v168kKTv_js0DPLPkb44pSZLT9jfPDGnE1VXqt1I1cc5IrJN0rsDh-6I/s1600/IMG_0065_2.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nhBR5UTA99xz78ZYZRGK8VhDkrylggCj0MXb9YtcfxpisWLDfyIN9znUV9S83pr75idiujCKoBy4SVDuFL3v168kKTv_js0DPLPkb44pSZLT9jfPDGnE1VXqt1I1cc5IrJN0rsDh-6I/s320/IMG_0065_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508068562791613602" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GLhNxdaYHXMi9C9dBorkCWaMQNPqdZT7pQuyMAWpBxcGg9LKFwjiri1v4kpWi4uNtBuoB0tCvaoleowBCpVjvUCwzYzhol1I8hTERd1JCygo6pKj6-YGYDx6YVL1dwQf3f_J9141VN0/s1600/IMG_0022.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GLhNxdaYHXMi9C9dBorkCWaMQNPqdZT7pQuyMAWpBxcGg9LKFwjiri1v4kpWi4uNtBuoB0tCvaoleowBCpVjvUCwzYzhol1I8hTERd1JCygo6pKj6-YGYDx6YVL1dwQf3f_J9141VN0/s320/IMG_0022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508068552678192386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />August 21 Rosebay<br /><br />Henry suggested I keep writing as I look at footage from THE PURSUIT and comment on it. In last few days I have been transferring video footage to computer. What I find: the sheer beauty intense density of light saturation color. The footage is marvelous, the cold of February matched in video and film. But will they match? This is the unanswered question. The Glen Gould checkmate of: what is the pulse? If you start with one (ie cinema), can you switch (to video) and even more irregularly can you switch back (to cinema)?<br /><br />In NYC for only four days. Walking through Thompkins Sq park seeing beautiful black men on bikes who if even poor, move as they own the world. No one black in Italy moves the same (nor in the south USA either for that matter). Equally new: encountering kids with orange hair or the crazy bums talking to themselves. i buy food at italian delis, bresaola and melon at the open market and rucola and cheese and raviola and coffee at the great shop where they speak italian and sell bread puglia style.<br />As if to remember.<br /><br />This evening (August 1, 2010) i was working on single screen version for festivals of l'impero invertito. I will call it by english name: hacking empire. challenging fun crazy to try to do in 4 days midst doctors appointments and banking and friends and unpacking and repacking. I fall asleep at 9pm, wake up thinking it is morning and it is midnight, mezzo notte.<br />Will drive up wed morning to Nova Scotia with Sean, long time friend. it is long drive. two days of 7/8 hours each day. we will stay overnight with friends in bar harbor. perhaps watch moon, definitely the stars---sweeping them from the water..... into our mouths<br />•<br />Here in Nova Scotia we finally arrive: another land of fantasy, amazing beaches, blue sky, big shimmering green hummingbirds flit round red monardia in my garden which has grown extremely. the garden altogether is fantastical, fantasia-like or as a neighbor says "over the top".<br />Arrived last night (8-5-10) after two days of heavy driving with stop-over for home made huckleberry pie and homemade pizza at Steve and Judy's house on Mt. Desert. italia is following me...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpRHtXdM7ETnhweSRyxhOZwDuU4YlCfjJV8k5dgkIDu0uhKSQQ1r-ygFntYqx4NioM0b2AfmmOCWGIG7JUWCunUYTLWWl79Yr3m36jRRA2oEk-OTZ31wPB-sGSvhfAKjHA7a9RJ-syi4/s1600/IMG_0053.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpRHtXdM7ETnhweSRyxhOZwDuU4YlCfjJV8k5dgkIDu0uhKSQQ1r-ygFntYqx4NioM0b2AfmmOCWGIG7JUWCunUYTLWWl79Yr3m36jRRA2oEk-OTZ31wPB-sGSvhfAKjHA7a9RJ-syi4/s320/IMG_0053.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508068570078888146" border="0" /></a><br />Saturday 8-7-10: i biked to the ocean today, went swimming (my baptism) in the ponds right in front of the shoreline (swimming, you can hear the waves crash) so delicious. The pond changes every year and this year the most: the result is the water is fine. Almost a mile swimming in and out. A dr. here says my finger has begun to form 'granulation' tissue but not yet skin. So not so great to get wet but i must swim!<br />The finger , or rather wound, remains still in my way, still looks like a war wound, but does not hurt. How crazy that this happened?! still a <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-PUiPbtbJrIqUkhd-PL3LavA0rZhliIBRAGujDT-vFVu4EtuX3OMOKmutaT-MVtScsIW-VkSyNY45av_PL1loFoy2Jrkk0YAUjMUFZ-9kIgyn7dRB4i3r60wlWo8h4yiBURPuKjDmoc/s1600/IMG_0058.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-PUiPbtbJrIqUkhd-PL3LavA0rZhliIBRAGujDT-vFVu4EtuX3OMOKmutaT-MVtScsIW-VkSyNY45av_PL1loFoy2Jrkk0YAUjMUFZ-9kIgyn7dRB4i3r60wlWo8h4yiBURPuKjDmoc/s320/IMG_0058.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508068543020814754" border="0" /></a>'surprise.'<br /><br />In this wild wind and breezy leaves accompanied by big blooming hydrangea, completely country, the bay opens up surprising with its fine row of boats, small and occasionally bigger ones. In the distance multi-sailed barks hazy. So different from Italy, so much space, wide open and large scale. What it does to people.....? Perhaps makes them less communal, with more sense of individual 'grit'?<br /><br />any way<br />Rose Bay is one of those special spaces, glorious, resonant, radiant—i am smiling the whole time.<br /><br />8-13-10 here is sunny as i lick my finger of insect spray... in advance of garden work. half truck load of mulch just delivered and perseid meteor last<br />night<br />sighted<br />while lying on beach with 4 planets bright in sky. some were explosive long tail streaking and staying for a while. unusual. beautiful.<br />clear sky now<br />and though i am wearing sweat shirt and jeans, they will come off later when we swim.<br />this is the life<br />as i sleep and read...previously junky detective novels (of inspector montalbano in Sicily to clear /fog my mind nicely), now "no mischief"--Alistair Macleod—quite wonderful writing—sentimental yet marvelous sound of languages and landscape — gaelic in the mix. we in America are such mongrels.<br />blotches_<br />our allegiances broken<br />in advance<br />is it from that we take our freedoms? •<br /><br />Thursday last: 8-19-10 we swam in ocean for half hour— it was so warm. You could see 20 or 30 feet underwater--clear alive ocean—exhilarating! I am still smiling in the laughing of it.<br /><br />Additional good news re well: final conclusion deduction to note after three drill estimates, one excavator: do nothing.<br />Sounds good to me.<br /><br />Re school/real world: I have to leave early to get to school for one day of admin and presentation; they call it orientation. Somehow I knew this year would be tough. To my credit, the dean called the next day and said my classes were filled and demand so high we need put in a new film one class. This is only to the good. Talked to Greg Thursday, our area manager, lovely powerful optimistic and hopeful. I am back at work....<br /><br />the single channel piece HACKING EMPIRE Sean considers one of my best. It is odd indeed. I am struck again and again with how odd my work is lately. Like I am changed and my work is operating on another channel. One I don’t really know.<br /><br />House here is great quite beautiful —bathroom one of my fave rooms ever (which never before) ditto bedrooms and garden now—suddenly—with mature trees<br /><br />I ramble but is there another path?<br />The fish slip the clouds move and and under the sea there are patterns of dark that are made by shadow of waves on water. This unceasing invisible movement we seek as cause. Life— it moves without you.<br />Coraggio and abbraccio ensieme<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-9381501103820076062010-08-01T14:24:00.000-07:002010-08-01T15:20:22.827-07:00la settimana scorsa. 1° agosto 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnIEC-Xkls-2BmW-awFYFlXGLJHy6dVi_CwE2pi3r5wdy8qotoAprl-2dyX55_58-FNCBcv9dBlOSN3ysVXWRMk1zKfM9PwIance3RmUr6TPI7VYNLqKD6MnrB-6DD0e2__iIlq71dK0/s1600/IMG_9857alessandro.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnIEC-Xkls-2BmW-awFYFlXGLJHy6dVi_CwE2pi3r5wdy8qotoAprl-2dyX55_58-FNCBcv9dBlOSN3ysVXWRMk1zKfM9PwIance3RmUr6TPI7VYNLqKD6MnrB-6DD0e2__iIlq71dK0/s320/IMG_9857alessandro.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500567715540039682" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT36UXg32g3-ITe2rJp-G4sAaq82D0GovYVKsBX4cNtcaGwAtxckpJsywCK6Z8Pb86_gq2br-5DaNraib7uy197EOpjtA6Z6gMmQA2l_xyWM4TeJ26Wx0u_4cuCoyL1Gq-RwiWE3sjlEY/s1600/IMG_9839.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT36UXg32g3-ITe2rJp-G4sAaq82D0GovYVKsBX4cNtcaGwAtxckpJsywCK6Z8Pb86_gq2br-5DaNraib7uy197EOpjtA6Z6gMmQA2l_xyWM4TeJ26Wx0u_4cuCoyL1Gq-RwiWE3sjlEY/s320/IMG_9839.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500568717646642386" border="0" /></a><br />August 1, 2010<br /><br />Back in NYC. Finally slept 9 hours. Sky pink and blue and famous on arrival. Resembling a Renaissance painting as if to say we are still in Rome, but the sound and look of the streets are my city—grimy, red brick, no motorinos! My house is lovely, still cluttered with sublet's things since she is staying through August while I travel to Nova Scotia, but cool and light and home. Lana my grad student picked me up in Newark with my car, all restored with new front brakes and tires and clean inside—still needs outside wash yes! It is 5am my body time before I go to sleep.<br /><br />This last ten days have been immense. I have crowded so much into them of Italy's food and beaches and people.<br /><br />Back on Monday the 19th from Ireland and still with cold the next two days, finally getting antibiotic but still feeling under the weather. Beginning to pack. I cry sobbing hysterically reading from a book of mine from decades ago: From Solids—seeing its prescience. …strangely.<br /><br />On Thursday 22nd, we go to Capocotta for the last time---the days are blurring for me. It is lovely as ever. Great swimming down the shoreline.<br /><br />That evening, I meet B outside his house in the piazza to attend public boxing match opposite the Ponte Sisto Bridge in Trastevere.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV9c4iDxfgEx_4oYneJ5OS-R1rq65tHLzaKS4J3z3npt-ShJiy9qR_Kc8elnZVRO_MjxMmxeQuyFukbjuUVrs0E1CWYDyGSAGZ6D_azRQFcx3-DzTyWfVBtMF-7p9gRfwjZa48VqBcqk/s1600/IMG_9497.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV9c4iDxfgEx_4oYneJ5OS-R1rq65tHLzaKS4J3z3npt-ShJiy9qR_Kc8elnZVRO_MjxMmxeQuyFukbjuUVrs0E1CWYDyGSAGZ6D_azRQFcx3-DzTyWfVBtMF-7p9gRfwjZa48VqBcqk/s320/IMG_9497.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566016926243938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoNe0QAhoT6eHynUOYmVWSPr0VNQ07zfBo7erSY_zZJQGV4CpZFQanP9MGaZGg8_ILNL_dirP6dDrnBX_3b5KQJvaEPRznVcHzjDQOaQDBjQ27ItjzbG5J0joNV6XrmmLtfzi0o9gp2o/s1600/IMG_9563.jpg"></a> Starts with teenage boys and then girls and then a bit older. Quite unbloody yet with crowd yelling, 300 people perhaps, there is a throwback to gladiator fights and one can hear the mob, il bruto Romano. We climb back up the hill behind the Spanish academy—the stairs a marvel always.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCDUcGq5OAlDMtxG3SzjhRsjJsj3qZ1xQF4KESaRlzhy0Kw-xiAfEdKYcX63B2GjKhGanJREkcnnFxz8_AQVTIwIfIiB22E7iOwY060T_yNWITTOR2aKCkiWIfjLrSyK9Qi2aYLUXCYM/s1600/IMG_9510.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCDUcGq5OAlDMtxG3SzjhRsjJsj3qZ1xQF4KESaRlzhy0Kw-xiAfEdKYcX63B2GjKhGanJREkcnnFxz8_AQVTIwIfIiB22E7iOwY060T_yNWITTOR2aKCkiWIfjLrSyK9Qi2aYLUXCYM/s320/IMG_9510.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566026811467362" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I have been on most of them but to remember all the ins and outs and turns and wonders. As we come up and it is a hot night…. I am barely wearing clothes… we hear music. Turns out fest at Spanish academy of Cape Verde musicians. The Spanish I can understand, the Portuguese no. We sit collapsed in heat enjoy the a capella singing and then turn in, walking past our Fountain.<br /><br />Friday night we go to the opera at baths of Caracalla: Aida. Beautiful settings and clouds and nearly full moon came up for last two acts when 'bad' things begin to happen!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsC6Ys4CQ_uwxAY1SE-kf53CKPSkj8NOki046UoTfyvmD-On2-FEzM-kohGNENBMYwxLDYEnP-dUexeXwYqqc44djDEVMcI1QaGj8AVPSutnbl87N6zaGs3q7htI3EwqmM4d0KmhL9fY/s1600/IMG_9567.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsC6Ys4CQ_uwxAY1SE-kf53CKPSkj8NOki046UoTfyvmD-On2-FEzM-kohGNENBMYwxLDYEnP-dUexeXwYqqc44djDEVMcI1QaGj8AVPSutnbl87N6zaGs3q7htI3EwqmM4d0KmhL9fY/s320/IMG_9567.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566036396768386" border="0" /></a><br />Costumes very nice and music lovely, but too many set pieces. Enjoyed most the moon and the balletic dancing that interrupted / introduced the acts. Went from 9pm through 12:15….too too too long. B commented that the crowd's response was tepid. But for me it was and had an excitement. We will see if any of the Canon shooting (my little still camera) will work in the film. The Shelleys had one period when they socialized so this would be for that time of their lives. Of course Aida is created after their lives—end of the19th c— another neologism or error for this work of "determined amateurism".<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoNe0QAhoT6eHynUOYmVWSPr0VNQ07zfBo7erSY_zZJQGV4CpZFQanP9MGaZGg8_ILNL_dirP6dDrnBX_3b5KQJvaEPRznVcHzjDQOaQDBjQ27ItjzbG5J0joNV6XrmmLtfzi0o9gp2o/s1600/IMG_9563.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoNe0QAhoT6eHynUOYmVWSPr0VNQ07zfBo7erSY_zZJQGV4CpZFQanP9MGaZGg8_ILNL_dirP6dDrnBX_3b5KQJvaEPRznVcHzjDQOaQDBjQ27ItjzbG5J0joNV6XrmmLtfzi0o9gp2o/s320/IMG_9563.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566032882192130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Saturday I continue to pack, perhaps cry then? The days are blurring indeed. There is an iron chef contest among the kitchen interns. magnificent invention on the theme of 'celery'. funny and wonderful food, as usual. my pals--Michel who played Frankenstein's monster and Sophie won!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPB2Ei2aag9O7fCWJX-T_5re9iVzdFZETatmvpinMbWY-m-Lgh5v5XikwPGhwkTRKA2v9gYNDG93PKteptcXjZQAuv0xMtAMY9togK_MnxtqIU27Nc860a-cBl6PVnQcJ1Hx3P7egLM0/s1600/IMG_9602.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPB2Ei2aag9O7fCWJX-T_5re9iVzdFZETatmvpinMbWY-m-Lgh5v5XikwPGhwkTRKA2v9gYNDG93PKteptcXjZQAuv0xMtAMY9togK_MnxtqIU27Nc860a-cBl6PVnQcJ1Hx3P7egLM0/s320/IMG_9602.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566348237102658" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbPUFA_-N-NP83D7JpMguLPGLu0hhV_P4d4Rx_syu972IymU7aGAgZHErlOwxPyaiV1dp9AAyoOhIj7m7r7qytgQFIX1g_euwnIe0dWyh1L2SvBCXLcRgRWEJi6AS9WOkt0uDz1HmpcI/s1600/IMG_9576.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbPUFA_-N-NP83D7JpMguLPGLu0hhV_P4d4Rx_syu972IymU7aGAgZHErlOwxPyaiV1dp9AAyoOhIj7m7r7qytgQFIX1g_euwnIe0dWyh1L2SvBCXLcRgRWEJi6AS9WOkt0uDz1HmpcI/s320/IMG_9576.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566327536339154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmo4wmwxuyOn2kFuPKtV8jjzBwxoxEo3978V5AgGkv1pS9dLo9BP-MDkHpG4iZhToNHB6-NqUyw2abEY0fj6SCT_oyICtpRIPnZbq1siSe7V8oDvKaDu7D4fbqkh8bI_f0xQ_vpVjkIk/s1600/IMG_9572mona.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmo4wmwxuyOn2kFuPKtV8jjzBwxoxEo3978V5AgGkv1pS9dLo9BP-MDkHpG4iZhToNHB6-NqUyw2abEY0fj6SCT_oyICtpRIPnZbq1siSe7V8oDvKaDu7D4fbqkh8bI_f0xQ_vpVjkIk/s320/IMG_9572mona.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566040403184642" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sunday we leave for Procida. Taxi to Termini, fast train to Naples, taxi to ferry terminal, ferry to Procida. Lovely to be on a boat on water. Clouds great, Vesuvius strong in distance, double humped, as Capri and Ischia come into view. Plus Mt. Procida, which is on the mainland facing the island. We get off and wonder if I will recognize Patrick Huber who invited us. I do! He is blonder and with his wife, as tall and slim as he with two kids. The town and island are less touristy than the others off Naples' coast.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MA_1oIwqoDErm15JV17bX5ojes0bwyELEs3LF4BNEhVl2v2W5Ekh_y9yyYdChvA84gncIBONsTJFVKD1fR5JXXkyQutHYKsyygIC5ZyN1pk8336cdMHxMWopc1m5iyHCsEOL44N8Yzs/s1600/IMG_9675.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MA_1oIwqoDErm15JV17bX5ojes0bwyELEs3LF4BNEhVl2v2W5Ekh_y9yyYdChvA84gncIBONsTJFVKD1fR5JXXkyQutHYKsyygIC5ZyN1pk8336cdMHxMWopc1m5iyHCsEOL44N8Yzs/s320/IMG_9675.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566354837428626" border="0" /></a>A port with colored houses, steep walk -- into their rented apt. 3 bedrooms, living room dining room, two bathrooms kitchen and multiple terraces plus roof. Plus beautiful original tiled floors that are exquisitely hand-painted. The place abandoned for years. They are Swiss and decided to take time off, have their girls learn Italian and here they are. Christine, the wife, has a sister who lives in Procida so there were particulars to their reasoning. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJ1d8nEu52qj_uNtKogOGnn8QHgjBanL4EV_lWKc6dstv3gu0t3ioJnevXSKrWPm6JiQrR8b57jyZ4vMYKBKSwUD7lh0bkk6QXWpzWmtNEgnrmWclXDEdS8XWi0BRUIFeQXtrLmCkiJg/s1600/IMG_9742.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJ1d8nEu52qj_uNtKogOGnn8QHgjBanL4EV_lWKc6dstv3gu0t3ioJnevXSKrWPm6JiQrR8b57jyZ4vMYKBKSwUD7lh0bkk6QXWpzWmtNEgnrmWclXDEdS8XWi0BRUIFeQXtrLmCkiJg/s320/IMG_9742.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500567699465792530" border="0" /></a>They make us feel at home and Patrick, kids and we go swimming, knock the roman dust off so to speak. We climb down and then up, we visit buildings above us, until 15 years ago a prison--in Mussolini's time, Communists jailed here—why the island is less developed with tourist trade than the others, more Italians living there: fisherman and their families. Il Postino was shot here and there are remnants from the film in various places. The harbor full and at dusk, all the boats leave to go back to Naples. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8hCUy11GWiHMIopSKCWPCav_nE4hY3Z32RJ_BwNzFqA2J4ldiMCLGXjSDREQMQs5e_aSE3KbykP7B8tpu1GqgYaOENejgTwlWOiHtiWNXHLqjBlACkGnzv3tiUR-Exj7avPibsCLxJM/s1600/IMG_9835.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8hCUy11GWiHMIopSKCWPCav_nE4hY3Z32RJ_BwNzFqA2J4ldiMCLGXjSDREQMQs5e_aSE3KbykP7B8tpu1GqgYaOENejgTwlWOiHtiWNXHLqjBlACkGnzv3tiUR-Exj7avPibsCLxJM/s320/IMG_9835.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500567708346435538" border="0" /></a>I didn't have my camera with me sadly: white streaks in the water tiny punctuations on the ocean surface, determined engines returning tracing a line etched in space. Beautiful under the setting sun. Spectacular views and as we swam, the clouds gathered threatened retreated. Christine cooked for us—sardines with pasta—delicious and tomatoes from their garden…nearly an acre below.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiN57OlaETYMHGMClIYwp3BmBMS8HwCSSMbnlBjxlMfA9C1wlTObqpiYWp4wYKmcPkBCe0Zug-TcslKGQTwq9oPGGikTmfA57dvLvHqs7BkDstEP80ifsLFJlHQGVkHPUQeuPXEJv22eA/s1600/IMG_9692.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiN57OlaETYMHGMClIYwp3BmBMS8HwCSSMbnlBjxlMfA9C1wlTObqpiYWp4wYKmcPkBCe0Zug-TcslKGQTwq9oPGGikTmfA57dvLvHqs7BkDstEP80ifsLFJlHQGVkHPUQeuPXEJv22eA/s320/IMG_9692.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566362320879506" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The next day we went off on a long walk to find another beach. We traipsed the length—too much traffic on narrow roads, found a nice beach and then moved out to find a space that had fewer people. The swimming was cleaner and the ports empty of boats since it was Monday. We bought lemon cookies, lemons the feast of the islands gardens. The streets walled but behind them endless gardens so that from above the buildings line the streets as walls to the gardens behind. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpFaymsGv71zxG5FXEMeIz6Aj7HRn-hK5tOGv-iDdNOolmtwgZBQ7Re-CoaEdTYLxTJIGglGg_8ichhPLU2nLqoIZ1MxzMvWm0YoLYEzSRDzAsLoaa44rA-05ALcdJx9VJ5hH7DJvbWw/s1600/IMG_9689.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpFaymsGv71zxG5FXEMeIz6Aj7HRn-hK5tOGv-iDdNOolmtwgZBQ7Re-CoaEdTYLxTJIGglGg_8ichhPLU2nLqoIZ1MxzMvWm0YoLYEzSRDzAsLoaa44rA-05ALcdJx9VJ5hH7DJvbWw/s320/IMG_9689.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500566359011516290" border="0" /></a>We head for the roof at dusk— moon is full, pink blue skies—and celebrate B's birthday with champagne. Only---Christine picks out the wrong bottle so no Veuve Clicquot but rather an other. I didn't realize. B only when he began to drink. Here's hoping Christine and Patrick drink the bottle on a special occasion in the future. Then to dinner down by another port--most delicious barbecued grilled polpo fantastico taste and on to fireworks. There was a saint's day at Ischia so we tumble over to an unbuilt house of a friend and watch. They are spectacular if too far away really. I had hoped for them to be right over us but no. Just the moon rising rising rising—<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbKosMzdZVL7u-n-Ty7HmbQMB1rmNjcLJGY2GXu5vvxbcob97gs7sRGPLg47vdW1eLfXtfHMhs2sCw9kRHXgSYFLkTsGur2XvhbvphTnaKWW90fLIY24WHMgkcUpHR7SLqPHRc5a4HO4/s1600/IMG_9749.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbKosMzdZVL7u-n-Ty7HmbQMB1rmNjcLJGY2GXu5vvxbcob97gs7sRGPLg47vdW1eLfXtfHMhs2sCw9kRHXgSYFLkTsGur2XvhbvphTnaKWW90fLIY24WHMgkcUpHR7SLqPHRc5a4HO4/s320/IMG_9749.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500567703316845842" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The next day another beach and swimming before we leave. This time one with spectacular rocks. Again great swimming and talk and reading day. I am working on translating B's book of poems into English and though I have the sound my French is nearly non-existent so even with web aids I get things wrong. It will work though and on train home---we catch ferry taxi, slower train in reverse movement—finish going over text or nearly so. The train home is slower but lovelier actually. With compartments like in a Hitchcock film. You can turn out lights and lie down, put your head in your friend's lap and rest. The sun is setting and together b and I face the dusk, the melancholic dusk that saddens both of us when alone. The hardest time of day. Beautiful together.<br /><br />We both feel as if we have been away a month. The strangeness of the place, the closure sealed it and changed time.<br /><br />I leave B and go to my room and the incidente happens! In a spaced daze I chop off my finger in the Roman shade! I hardly feel it. I guess shock sets in immediately. I thought I had pinched it only but no it is a raw bloody mess, as if an arm had come off. It is right there but the piece of tip of my right forefinger but I am in shock drifting down the stairs crying softly help me I cut my finger off. The blood on the steps was perfectly round red enamel and stayed for two days. Pina takes me to hospital on isola, the oldest hospital in Rome. The surgeon sees me quite fast and says the tip off is too small to sew on and in fact I was in too much shock to bring it. I find it on return--white dead a small clove of garlic yet skin. Takes too long to get shots in my butt: one of painkiller, one antibiotic. Have prescription and very nice surgeon. Dr Daffino who married a New Yorker so spoke English, some irony regarding his wife who is currently in Florida with his children (!)<br /><br />Next day is two days before leaving. I pack with Mary Doyle my assistant who is back and B comes to drive us to post office to do media mail which is crazy Italian bureaucracy (not all romantic Roman beaches). She had checked the day before but gotten wrong info. So one post office east of Termini in traffic then another post for stamps then another and waiting an hour and we are first in line. Acccck !!! get stamps and back to first post for final success.<br /><br />B takes me to different hospital to change bandage later that afternoon…quick quick quick. The people there say it will grow back but not completely…so ugly ugly ugly. Really don't like what it looks like—a piece of meat!<br /><br />Treat Mary and B to prosecco in garden. The light is magnificent.<br /><br />Next day we are off to Alessandro Allessandroni near Bagnaia towards Viterbo. It takes a while to get there, as the traffic to get out of city, like NY, is bad. Then we find the place. Thanks to B who is a spectacularly safe and efficient driver and knows all regarding Italian addresses---those mysterious non contiguous numbers. We phone and connect and drive through gates. Meet Alessandro and his assistant whose name I missed—together we look at some of my work. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH3b5nMP8DE2GAMG1E4LcQhHbc9XYSPiK_2vCslmwSLG4B7byZCVrLyEfKWNrnFOc2aLyFtG1MBO1-eJSJVPTUm4WWBCYtZEw1FcjeY_E7n-Jm10cbFxXDlxycZ0RAV_JOxzikXP4_BE/s1600/IMG_9867.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAH3b5nMP8DE2GAMG1E4LcQhHbc9XYSPiK_2vCslmwSLG4B7byZCVrLyEfKWNrnFOc2aLyFtG1MBO1-eJSJVPTUm4WWBCYtZEw1FcjeY_E7n-Jm10cbFxXDlxycZ0RAV_JOxzikXP4_BE/s320/IMG_9867.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500568723635133570" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwBVz3578kyveHpeLiXBauZOLMS76395fWkdy4dWVgtRa7O0kiJIZAFkfM_9rp2tDOcpfsP5C-pw3owgOYK3-ELJ2NmeWTbOJn7nMHcRx6do53rkaWvTWJ5Sg5RNiOrTz_EqxYz7UJyM/s1600/IMG_9864.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwBVz3578kyveHpeLiXBauZOLMS76395fWkdy4dWVgtRa7O0kiJIZAFkfM_9rp2tDOcpfsP5C-pw3owgOYK3-ELJ2NmeWTbOJn7nMHcRx6do53rkaWvTWJ5Sg5RNiOrTz_EqxYz7UJyM/s320/IMG_9864.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500568719855965826" border="0" /></a>I believe they are freaked by the fragmentation but later at lunch they begin to talk about its unusual originality and how they collect interesting people who do interesting things and I think how similarly Cy Twombly was quiet when he saw my work and then gave me respect. The originality and power reads to artists of originality and power and instead of jealousy and meanness, they perform some kind of recognition towards me. Very gratifying…..and Alessandro is giving me permission to use his work, will send cds to my home in NY! Oddly it turns out the wife Margaret Bourke Clarke is a photographer whose book on the nbele I adore, mark up and have studied. She was surprised I didn't look her name up but between l'incidente and packing, not a surprise. Yet now I am fans of two here!<br /><br />We proceed to lunch my favorite— melon with bresaola and rucola and cheese plus pasta and coffee. Later b says were we to bring dessert? He knows the politesse of Italia so well.<br /><br />We leave at 3:30 and realize we can't get back to Rome for Dr. surgeon who leaves at 4:30 from outpatient clinic, so we go to villa Lante which is nearby and see the fountains and the frescos <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5D5WwdM2dZcajWgeR55uci8aB0YcDjzS7qKbLY5Iu_-uaz4fKtLrdjARIDt2rDaiBp7jZXvCU3ySkKKEOKwgAkE3C7B-imWLKJW3g5Lo-syuZUshwsW_NQHukUK9iiPiepHSgbK-e3ZM/s1600/IMG_9905villa+lante.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5D5WwdM2dZcajWgeR55uci8aB0YcDjzS7qKbLY5Iu_-uaz4fKtLrdjARIDt2rDaiBp7jZXvCU3ySkKKEOKwgAkE3C7B-imWLKJW3g5Lo-syuZUshwsW_NQHukUK9iiPiepHSgbK-e3ZM/s320/IMG_9905villa+lante.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500568728918877538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvKoqcrqwzgqf0PcIvpOgZs8UmuGexxeuA6Lzv3YuK5CZB_I04-RybfXtnTtQpZSUb_eu2D-4ac011GVzQVLeYklmU9djLJnrEkSX7f8xxgR8anPpK7ySyHP8-4tjdCDZAH78bPQ8C8I/s1600/IMG_9910.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvKoqcrqwzgqf0PcIvpOgZs8UmuGexxeuA6Lzv3YuK5CZB_I04-RybfXtnTtQpZSUb_eu2D-4ac011GVzQVLeYklmU9djLJnrEkSX7f8xxgR8anPpK7ySyHP8-4tjdCDZAH78bPQ8C8I/s320/IMG_9910.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500568731866186370" border="0" /></a>and have a last Italian gelato and return to sit in garden at AAR before dinner and go over last of B's poetry and have dinner—not as good as I would wish and it feels like 10 little Indians since the group is small and somewhat dispirited in feeling whereas B and I are tired but radiant with all the last week.<br /><br />The next day after little sleep I pack realize I need one more mailing of papers I can't fit in my suitcases, will be overweight otherwise, and b comes to accompany me to airport. We say goodbye, B cries he tells me later and I leave amazed my two bags weighed exactly 46 kilos and I take off--the video screens says we are above the Tyrrhenian sea and I see blue and white clouds and I can't believe this year is over.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4y-JL_YcLwWnJO32IxVAxbliTaea8uybSkpKBuWtj9MgXItHQMRqCD0U_Az0WmMffKImD0l7jB0kD4njL8KS_U6HLtFCuPFtRHglKF0JecAxlDGpG8LrNGUAma7Zxbf9GbcN7n2xK6Y/s1600/IMG_9996.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4y-JL_YcLwWnJO32IxVAxbliTaea8uybSkpKBuWtj9MgXItHQMRqCD0U_Az0WmMffKImD0l7jB0kD4njL8KS_U6HLtFCuPFtRHglKF0JecAxlDGpG8LrNGUAma7Zxbf9GbcN7n2xK6Y/s320/IMG_9996.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500569603105462898" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I am Roman I feel. I live in Europe but I don’t and another life awaits me across the Atlantic<br />.<br />Molti molti ringraziamenti a tutti che rendano questo anno fantastico.<br />Tutto e Roma siete caro a me.<br />Rinvierò.<br />Tutto l'amore<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-60664668165802801862010-07-20T05:17:00.001-07:002010-07-20T05:53:30.371-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_f7v5o4uybkNcAjMlGLF_Z054CrwJzmM-Hx-wyy5fajaLiO25fHOMIu5w_4hF7UuD9sT37g9pBp4U9_5YKfPXtUYvnMWooVRytvX5oQGhk04LXGCBBcRg2Gr5dc0K_W6DJ34fcxAiQg/s1600/IMG_9240.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_f7v5o4uybkNcAjMlGLF_Z054CrwJzmM-Hx-wyy5fajaLiO25fHOMIu5w_4hF7UuD9sT37g9pBp4U9_5YKfPXtUYvnMWooVRytvX5oQGhk04LXGCBBcRg2Gr5dc0K_W6DJ34fcxAiQg/s320/IMG_9240.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495962392899264338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pgR2g4RS7bty3SZTkWv-k5W8bZ5r-HECOME2RIvbUK8_bLJ27QCcmdPQs5vyZS4zC_-JgZ9T2fT7q9cZ5ACNHGzmANZf0jjdqEs8nh2kROhmh3KINj-u79kbSLZccHAJznScKYlQ8Y8/s1600/IMG_9247.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pgR2g4RS7bty3SZTkWv-k5W8bZ5r-HECOME2RIvbUK8_bLJ27QCcmdPQs5vyZS4zC_-JgZ9T2fT7q9cZ5ACNHGzmANZf0jjdqEs8nh2kROhmh3KINj-u79kbSLZccHAJznScKYlQ8Y8/s320/IMG_9247.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495962389783255186" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpmNV6VC4IgpkqTxxpgMtknMn2W92nLnkuxJ4WuSIMUVrdneNKaHBnjwSPa-p45cNIA4E_m9y7AhIB_WgsjYdhKJZldcywMEGhEPGEUwYuCHEb_SiH0fTLcVhQmvowtR0dKmBK7nRQFc/s1600/IMG_9222.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpmNV6VC4IgpkqTxxpgMtknMn2W92nLnkuxJ4WuSIMUVrdneNKaHBnjwSPa-p45cNIA4E_m9y7AhIB_WgsjYdhKJZldcywMEGhEPGEUwYuCHEb_SiH0fTLcVhQmvowtR0dKmBK7nRQFc/s320/IMG_9222.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495962379954921842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqKHvCIW9P53RpGAoKKAVrDa8jdFGzdhSYTkFynVLyS9lg_luJGz7VgIaCek5zXcYQc4IB0F-vbq4tHB7Qo759jxv3bQ76nqTR7ANyFi4H2b5qbvrk0wOzKpC234xhHfH6e83g0mdwYo/s1600/IMG_0224.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqKHvCIW9P53RpGAoKKAVrDa8jdFGzdhSYTkFynVLyS9lg_luJGz7VgIaCek5zXcYQc4IB0F-vbq4tHB7Qo759jxv3bQ76nqTR7ANyFi4H2b5qbvrk0wOzKpC234xhHfH6e83g0mdwYo/s320/IMG_0224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495962377417526690" /></a><br />July 20, 2010<br /><br />Hot and hotter. Just back from Ireland which was cool cooler coolest. Green fields topped with clouds etched in black, ranging from white to dark grey. Shetland ponies and the most delicate chestnut horses along with black/white cows and sheep---all in high contrast to Rome's terra cotta burning! I wore all my sweaters for many of the days I was there, the poetry room particularly cold with sitting. <br /><br />First though to go backwards, last Monday was it just the 12th? I rented a sailboat out of Ostia /Fumicino for the shoot as my 'free' boat never happened. Went with crew of two—Benoit as my Shelley stand-in (!) and Stefano from the Academy as the cabin boy, Eugenio g. who was the real captain will have to stand for Edward Williams who captained Shelley's boat. They all went down in a storm off Leirici. We had no storm however! It was sunny hot, but lovely on the ocean. After initial shooting, the light staying put at top of the day, we drank prosecco and ate Panini and afterwards, watermelon, diving off the boat into 83 meters deep of water while the captain tacked round us! Later we went in again in shallower water, anchored. As the sun began setting I started shooting again, catching the silhouettes of the 'crew'— abstractions, the water. Few clouds to speak of but hopefully the severity of the light, the black silhouettes, chasing the sun will work. I see the results tomorrow when I pick up from lab.<br /><br />The day after sail, I trucked over to lab to drop off 'dailies' and then back to pack. By evening I knew I was sick which I still am—with cold? Sinus infection? Not sure—but had to go on. So I did. <br /><br />Wed I fly out of Fiumicino reading roberto boleano's amuletto which is marvelous.<br />so much about history and love and living inside desire. the clouds out the window ecstatic caverns at the bottom of the world above ours. I talk to my fellow passengers: a black man Maximillian of the church about to fast for a month on a isle off ireland's coast and a woman named Martina—her father wanted a boy—so she says she doesn't even have her own name. i tell them i don't believe in god, i believe in the infinite. the words roll off my mind...i think mind rather than tongue..and i can tell they think i have no faith. i say god is inside us and she Martina says we could talk about this for hours. but i don't want to . god seems so much less to me. the world so much more<br /><br />from boleano--i use this blog as an excuse to savour him, to share him:<br />"its all in the nerves. the nerves that tense and relax as you approach the edges of companionship and love. the razor sharp edges of companionship and love.<br /><br />"His forehead was broad, but it didn't have the sort of breadth that suggests intelligence or sound judgement; it had the breadth of a battlefield, and the battle had been lost, to judge from the rest of his face: thin lank hair falling over his ears, a skull more like a dented bowl than a noble dome, light eyes staring at me with a mixture of suspicion and boredom. in spite of everything, i found him attractive (i'm a born optimist).<br /><br />[hope you laugh at that last one. i did aloud]<br />"Tears, how many nights have i spent pondering them, to come to such meager conclusions."<br /><br />We land in Dublin. Dobz, a lovely guy with big head of black dreads picks me up in his new Volkswagon sedan and drives me to Cork. The vista of the fields and the clouds and the cooling were marvelous.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_X7yEnLPLXgD8-94ADqTupSHNUikpnL4SA6lxySdXb1svYY3Y7RQW5mBiyatPOEfRriF-m2dvG9iZo4dqMdjPTliZEod-3DLvUdbg1LSu95tMWXHTHjEPpOuWg7L3a30zOCvhLYHwp88/s1600/IMG_9257.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_X7yEnLPLXgD8-94ADqTupSHNUikpnL4SA6lxySdXb1svYY3Y7RQW5mBiyatPOEfRriF-m2dvG9iZo4dqMdjPTliZEod-3DLvUdbg1LSu95tMWXHTHjEPpOuWg7L3a30zOCvhLYHwp88/s320/IMG_9257.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495967476030347602" /></a><br /><br /> The show is in an old tram station, large and voluminous, the screen nearly 12 feet high and just as wide. Grand as is the audience: 200-300 people. everyone surprised at the high turnout: artists, filmmakers, poets, critics, curators. Drinks first and films when the sky got dark enough--the ceiling skylit. Audience didn't laugh as much as i would though one woman later when i mentioned same, said "there was momentum in the row" (fabulously flat description i think)—this at a point in my film MIRROR WORLD when the vagina speaks—its very very funny, a slap in the face to Lacan which no one has to think of, just this gorgeous hairy slit mumbling...and then LIGATURES, the most recent, very simple but it almost made me cry—so profoundly about desire and mirroring. <br /><br />People seemed to appreciate the work and kept in next five days appearing out of the woodwork: like the clerk at the food coop serving me suddenly whispering how much he liked the films or the Italian couple at another event not recognizing me and when hearing my name saying how much they enjoyed them. <br /><br />Meanwhile, my nose is dripping yellow phlegm, heavier and heavier. Disgusting yes. Despite hot toddy and hot bath and lots of lemon and water. It is a full-fledged summer cold and everyone says it is harder to dispel. but dispel it i must so i am on benydril and vitamin c and sleeping alot in cool air with sun peering out from under clouds---it is all grey and greeny and silvery. exquisite little town of Cork, important port when under English rule. With a river at the center--actually the river splits so the downtown is an island. <br /><br />Next day I give my reading. Feel good about it though an odd mix of readers: the first quite traditional, then me who I thought was strong, then a performer type from Cambridge. Solid all together. The readings got off to a slow start with the earlier one Thursday but they seem to be steadily improving.<br /><br />Friday morning Dobz takes me out of town, tooling around the west coast of Ireland and stepping into the ocean there,<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uLyQd8ykEA587sYNAtAUzwNeVPEHiFIpy5r3Z-kLfAMr30UrOCurqnhy9-vXURSPdd95jfXwlIJ7s5GTHiSeRfmU8q73h8Dftq6SSYCbHXx6IkQJ7MqT-RZDIYaP1WGyIQLk99RjSgY/s1600/IMG_9286.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uLyQd8ykEA587sYNAtAUzwNeVPEHiFIpy5r3Z-kLfAMr30UrOCurqnhy9-vXURSPdd95jfXwlIJ7s5GTHiSeRfmU8q73h8Dftq6SSYCbHXx6IkQJ7MqT-RZDIYaP1WGyIQLk99RjSgY/s320/IMG_9286.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495967489722368930" /></a><br />Cold clear and reminiscent of nova scotia which I miss---people are writing me to get on up there! Then we locate a fantastic restaurant since the Celtic Tiger of the past few years has way improved irish food. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpjTbvvvenwCJsa5SG7IgrWyg8cMho6FGg_GJThNAq_NCfEnW0JBMobmK12Ol_Q_1FG39S6UZITQRgozoXpxDAKF0buQllwHDQmn3AvWuUNldSV8dlKcAzQslJBc6IPv3AaNXLBXwu0k/s1600/IMG_9304.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpjTbvvvenwCJsa5SG7IgrWyg8cMho6FGg_GJThNAq_NCfEnW0JBMobmK12Ol_Q_1FG39S6UZITQRgozoXpxDAKF0buQllwHDQmn3AvWuUNldSV8dlKcAzQslJBc6IPv3AaNXLBXwu0k/s320/IMG_9304.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495968957404279938" /></a>And I have the best prawns, really small lobsters I have ever had at an adorable place Dillons in seaside village of Timoleague. All go there please. You will have great food<br /><br />That evening we meet up with Maggie O Sullivan who arrives who is amazing and I have been a fan for decades. Now talking and sharing. It was sweet, she in red with green bag and I in green with red bag. We were inverse twins. That Friday night we jump off in crazy taxi with driver who doesn't know cork to "couscous" at the cricket club (!) which had 30 poets reading 5 minutes a piece. It was odd and marvelous with one thinking repeatedly now why don't I try that in my poetry! Lovely and fun.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnn2FSA1KXjX9ntyNvUjV-DQbTM8-d2-tKvZ8rM0wVDGWlZY7x4ZIsxfWGcUtQA5qriOcb8hN7NM3fgjxp0l1JbrLeZOWNbfovVMy1ImW3Thqw8nX6l_QANkCdAUqeXi10NjYbCClQGN4/s1600/300px-Currach_Baltimore_Ireland.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnn2FSA1KXjX9ntyNvUjV-DQbTM8-d2-tKvZ8rM0wVDGWlZY7x4ZIsxfWGcUtQA5qriOcb8hN7NM3fgjxp0l1JbrLeZOWNbfovVMy1ImW3Thqw8nX6l_QANkCdAUqeXi10NjYbCClQGN4/s320/300px-Currach_Baltimore_Ireland.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495962395438104642" /></a><br />Saturday morning I go with Dobz and his girlfriend to row in a currachs. Which is an Old style irish rowing boat for the high seas. Four rowers rowing sticks (like big toothpicks) in a tar shell round wood ribs. We went down river---Cork is the venice of ireland or was— stepped back before the currents could catch us, stopped for coffee/tea and i got to row on return. Hard to get "in tune" but i did, you just follow the back before you. Nice to move the body for sure after all this traveling and sniffling.<br /><br />More poetry again with Americans on that night. Mixed I thought but really enjoyed jean day's new book. Inspiring in its perfect control and jumpy observations. Not sensual particularly but controlled and ready with an earned calm. <br />That night at Trevor Joyce's place, <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe5jSHJX3kWRiv7d165R2WyBNLVb3IRtJ4JyN7jRORgmsKYfnoOGSsMHakiWF0Rwq_ANsz4gINTKRZycc1VHL0T-GzRU3fU6W2EKum8S5YuY22mZuUVqCupFvqcVBhATYkW78LJ4nf5w/s1600/IMG_9440.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKe5jSHJX3kWRiv7d165R2WyBNLVb3IRtJ4JyN7jRORgmsKYfnoOGSsMHakiWF0Rwq_ANsz4gINTKRZycc1VHL0T-GzRU3fU6W2EKum8S5YuY22mZuUVqCupFvqcVBhATYkW78LJ4nf5w/s320/IMG_9440.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495967518577021138" /></a><br />lined with books and poets and poetry—time for intimate conversations over poetics of poetry and film. Good conversation, then out at 1:30am onto rainy streets over cobblestones with black figures sliding through against the stone walls of the houses. A bit like Watts out of Beckett which has a scene here in Cork!<br /><br />Last day a reading with irish language untranslated, wonderful slithery sounds, lots of a's and i's and then three young Cambridge boys: each good and each revelatory of their own space so there was a slice of sameness with all the differences already in place: the earnest quiet politico talking about Palestine, the gay boy dropping in and out of sex, the always jumpy one talking about topical events and California. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfwULHve_AgTlAGXWq1Wcend8I7EsV3UHf6yZcwJ5Su7AiboOPHvz0CnQuveMY9-jl15utBiMcmZkoeJKiuE__4nZcqS8tTHhi-bNsIWa5v0B5ezacwYxECtCcRd4XZOzlot5xIoc3xE/s1600/IMG_9432.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzfwULHve_AgTlAGXWq1Wcend8I7EsV3UHf6yZcwJ5Su7AiboOPHvz0CnQuveMY9-jl15utBiMcmZkoeJKiuE__4nZcqS8tTHhi-bNsIWa5v0B5ezacwYxECtCcRd4XZOzlot5xIoc3xE/s320/IMG_9432.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495967530954817778" /></a><br />Off on afternoon train through gorgeous Ireland to Dublin where picked up by Aoife, pronounced eefa, a form of eve, who plys me with food —gorgeous —and takes me to Odessa Club which has an odd porno feel with its black leather and curtains. A small crowd watches, particularly fond of newest work, for which I am pleased. Next day still sick (stinks) and we tour galleries then on to airport for easy ride home. I get three seats (lucky me) and sink into dozing with snuffles.<br /><br />B picks me up at airport (so kind) and takes me to dinner at biondo tevere, a Roman restaurant with a terrace over the river, then home to hot room at academy. I wake three times to shower before finally getting sleep and then up. We hope to go to procida; will hear later in the week.<br /><br />Keep posted.<br />baci a tutti gli miei amiciAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-88484678267031577202010-07-10T01:37:00.001-07:002010-07-10T02:57:57.125-07:00July 10th In Heat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWC9cpOaFBwptDNxHELhyphenhyphenY3yVDL9LdVMpFvQLpTCIlcAPsyARFrLkArSzqR8UAGw56qTtbD8fm1J3jtNvgBnTfB0Zmq1levqrtcYQkiYXCE-cGiRQ9QT16D64Gb-n7su_lZHi7oCq4Dfc/s1600/IMG_8812falling+amazon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWC9cpOaFBwptDNxHELhyphenhyphenY3yVDL9LdVMpFvQLpTCIlcAPsyARFrLkArSzqR8UAGw56qTtbD8fm1J3jtNvgBnTfB0Zmq1levqrtcYQkiYXCE-cGiRQ9QT16D64Gb-n7su_lZHi7oCq4Dfc/s320/IMG_8812falling+amazon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492214009886438882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEdgu1sov0XdAiym4qKSJ8c4qFafqkeP2RRDCbaf14poVglmERSqFNfgUb79BlSm_EIrg1TC5gkQalDomiQMrtWgkt3tqEZgfudafVjA530BbhLS_sn3z5UFot-KaV6Ii7SLAxH7LFb0/s1600/IMG_8957palms.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEdgu1sov0XdAiym4qKSJ8c4qFafqkeP2RRDCbaf14poVglmERSqFNfgUb79BlSm_EIrg1TC5gkQalDomiQMrtWgkt3tqEZgfudafVjA530BbhLS_sn3z5UFot-KaV6Ii7SLAxH7LFb0/s320/IMG_8957palms.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492209781437389250" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQsVFWi97Cdvt4PRS7bbMjR1W-zeNlog0NL6t9dKTxh4_LQjq3hGU5VB83qLB4jsF-rOIMK9_2KYmqSZaocZrhnUzXCpNhzWmXN6ix4qU5h08TulZ3UR9r54r68fLyYaZiPtGeciwXuM/s1600/IMG_8794male+angels.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQsVFWi97Cdvt4PRS7bbMjR1W-zeNlog0NL6t9dKTxh4_LQjq3hGU5VB83qLB4jsF-rOIMK9_2KYmqSZaocZrhnUzXCpNhzWmXN6ix4qU5h08TulZ3UR9r54r68fLyYaZiPtGeciwXuM/s320/IMG_8794male+angels.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492210107802578546" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbzKTbdoBu8Zai5Oxwnoz-5Vmk1rNMjAwKen9BWuquE46SvNaZjnzj7md2QfZaORkP5e0PVMEa7g94JsWS-G0dFtioXV-lqQgtPjpvdZTjkxtonq2ubh55BYaJfXOZH7XPwOHQ5WALtY/s1600/IMG_8846aphro+ass.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbzKTbdoBu8Zai5Oxwnoz-5Vmk1rNMjAwKen9BWuquE46SvNaZjnzj7md2QfZaORkP5e0PVMEa7g94JsWS-G0dFtioXV-lqQgtPjpvdZTjkxtonq2ubh55BYaJfXOZH7XPwOHQ5WALtY/s320/IMG_8846aphro+ass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492209803922261906" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUIPO6MnGUJu3N6j763uIG3e2NsJBFXzipgaqrx0hFYgbCwn7aucK-pmpyumhklnZQEIHkd_f0c2wMQpaRBmmM0hjRtId7u6GRMcvLiZAp1TsQ3YR7TN67pyIziFP6_OaSIp3RWOfzT8/s1600/IMG_8883riding+*.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUIPO6MnGUJu3N6j763uIG3e2NsJBFXzipgaqrx0hFYgbCwn7aucK-pmpyumhklnZQEIHkd_f0c2wMQpaRBmmM0hjRtId7u6GRMcvLiZAp1TsQ3YR7TN67pyIziFP6_OaSIp3RWOfzT8/s320/IMG_8883riding+*.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492209792305563298" /></a><br /><br />July 10th, 2010<br /><br />Still hot, I wake at 4am and put on light clothes to walk out to my studio, circle in a daze midst cooling breezes and return to sleep heavily, dreaming, my feet at bed's head pressed against cooler wood. <br /><br />Summer is here and I am still going into water alternate days like the rest of Roma! Capocotta yesterday with B. and tomorrow with L. to outdoor pool. This is the life. Though the heat is calling me eagerly back to Nova Scotia....<br /><br />Little birds drop into the coffee bar this morning, looking for crumbs, magical—like a painting— unafraid hopping. The city under heat and one does not willingly descend until dark. <br /><br />Please note: The photos here are from Naples. Perhaps the marble statues can cool our hot skin?!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX9LbKi5LZPruqjlFwAi66f_nANCtCW-KMY6Se2-TGsAdvlhWFD73w0CLZx6Mvf6vLsq5uSkGJT9WbbmSpVkZsH8ppaAGJ18At5VUt-M8qLIXva80AEXdi27IEy3FBS7ZN_6z526JDhM/s1600/black+aphro.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX9LbKi5LZPruqjlFwAi66f_nANCtCW-KMY6Se2-TGsAdvlhWFD73w0CLZx6Mvf6vLsq5uSkGJT9WbbmSpVkZsH8ppaAGJ18At5VUt-M8qLIXva80AEXdi27IEy3FBS7ZN_6z526JDhM/s320/black+aphro.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492210111833974162" /></a><br />Yet i am still working. At the baths of Caracalla last weekend, I get thrown out when Michele (a student at Cinecitta) and I unwrap too slowly his professional tripod. We had been sitting there for two hours waiting for the light to improve. Two workers came out on a motorized golf cart and said they would call the police if we did not stop. Of course we closed up. I had only shot a minute unfortunately, gulls wheeling and screaming above the amazingly high walls. The baths are the model for Grand Central and the old Penn Station. So intense this huge block of buildings for Romans to bathe—men and women at different times. Hot and cold water pumped in from below. Elegant, immense.<br /><br />The night before i had filmed off a motorino the city walls nearby with my still camera on video setting. I am going to try on serious motorcycle some late night dollies (moving shots to all you non-film types).<br /><br />On similar foray, I have tried to locate a sailboat that can host a film shoot upcoming—my last big shoot for the Shelley film. A friend's boat fell through so I am renting for 300 Euros (!) one out of Fiumocino—the river near Ostia that goes out to the sea. Benoit will drive us and be a "stand-in " for Shelley since my Fellows—those Bressonian characters—cannot give me more time. Che peccato! Stefano a young filmmaker who works at the Academy and loved my work: he wrote me so beautifully: <span style="font-style:italic;">Your works are quite brilliant, ironic, sensual and fun (which are the adjectives that I personally use to describe the life that I wish).</span> He comes to help out and perhaps be another "stand in" for Shelley's friend who dies with him on the boat almost 200 years ago. <br />We were to go to Porto Ercole, but this is actually easier if not as beautiful.<br /><br /><br />Previously Benoit has been driving me irregularly to the ocean early in the mornings and one time, on the way back he took me to Ostia Antica which was fabulous--- an abandoned city that at one point housed 80,000 people, excavated from the silt of the Tiber. Magnificent black and white mosaics--one sees from where Mussolini period mosaics are influenced (foro italico etc). There was a wonderful house of Cupid with patterned marble floor, a favorite sculpture of male and female embracing, a "sailor's bar" (!)complete with marble counter and private terrace, baths and storehouses, even a synagogue that i did not quite get to. it was hot and B was waiting reading in the shade. Another day he took me to Pliny's summer palace. More ruined, in between river and sea with b/w mosaic baths down a baked road. We are both slim enough to slip through the fence. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxXgk9OzD9XiX6zWXMWmICufRHi8sVwlIVEZeXRyVP_YhaX2tj2h8-xuOR1XmFAaE2bCOt8yv8cHQIPatJzkVk93qC3Z5wjCZ6N8xwy-1zd909vpw85iV6_gvieEzkJqlBGVlc1_E0MM/s1600/IMG_8916portrait.jpg*.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxXgk9OzD9XiX6zWXMWmICufRHi8sVwlIVEZeXRyVP_YhaX2tj2h8-xuOR1XmFAaE2bCOt8yv8cHQIPatJzkVk93qC3Z5wjCZ6N8xwy-1zd909vpw85iV6_gvieEzkJqlBGVlc1_E0MM/s320/IMG_8916portrait.jpg*.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492209784924398194" /></a><br /><br />Benoit is a poet, whom I met when he came to Cryptoporticus show. He knows Kathleen Fraser—such a small world of international artists and serendipity! He has given me his books written in French and since we have been having such a nice time together, and inspired by my friend Christina who translated Russian texts, learning the language as she went along—I turned my hand to translating his book. It was amazing--intense and challenging, fun. B. thought i captured excellently the feel, rhythm, sound of it all. Such a wonderful way to understand another's inner life. I am thinking perhaps for Burning Deck to publish in the future....?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgx-ceAdgXIuQLUXyfQPfpmDczgmTXNDAbpr_5Yo_Ed1Zhgm62kqJkmQeu21Q7e9iiSPbXwRgLkbZu6Im1KmX8OkT_isuZ97NXb62hukeCnPeZk3ds9raeltwAYnvVMhbMWtHc9Orv77Q/s1600/IMG_8881*+musicians.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgx-ceAdgXIuQLUXyfQPfpmDczgmTXNDAbpr_5Yo_Ed1Zhgm62kqJkmQeu21Q7e9iiSPbXwRgLkbZu6Im1KmX8OkT_isuZ97NXb62hukeCnPeZk3ds9raeltwAYnvVMhbMWtHc9Orv77Q/s320/IMG_8881*+musicians.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492209800693120722" /></a><br /><br />Meanwhile the menu has changed. We are now into green figs, fresh ricotta cheese and prosciutto. Spectacular and a rare (here at the Academy at least) fish meal yesterday with mussels and pasta, octopus salad as starter. How much i will miss this is un- imaginable!<br /><br />What else? so much—Lauren picked me up on her scooter last Friday (after beach morning) to go to cafe jazz. We saw a wonderful band playing Cole Porter songs among other big band specialities in the open air . I have been invited to island—Procida— off coast of Naples by Swiss curator and will go there for long weekday or weekend hopefully before returning to USA. Two young women have interviewed me loving <span style="font-style:italic;">MIRRORWORLDS</span> at the Santo Spirito in May. They came with others to look at work one, no two, weeks ago.<br /><br />On Wednesday i finally went to Cinecitta. A friend of Peruvian origin who works in the archie there, Irela, got me in and through a number of odd concurrences I ended up with a pass, my camera and alone. It was miraculous. I was able to crawl over sets, fall through a destroyed stair even (!)—unhurt— and film wherever I went. The minute Irela showed up, the cops showed as well. We met up with some Montreal film historians who were somewhat jealous and even possessive that I was able to shoot while they with far more "professional" equipment were kept away. Ahhhh the advantage of the "amateur'.<br /><br />Not least, I get a note back from Alessandro Alessandroni who is a composer who worked with Enio Morricone and who did soundtrack for <span style="font-style:italic;">Lady Frankenstein</span>. I had written him to see if he would do soundtrack for my film. He wrote back! from Namibia and invited me to his country place to show him dvds to possibly compose for my film. I had to postpone returning home a couple of days as he was arriving in Italy the day I was flying out. An expensive plane switch but i had to try. Wish me luck!<br /><br />The heat makes it so i can only work in front of a fan. Too hot hot hot but not as hot as NYC has been i understand. And luckily for me I go to ireland for 5 days next week (after sailboat shoot) as the heat shoots up over 100 here. I have a conference in Cork, with a show in Dublin. Looking forward to that as I have never been in Ireland and Kenny G. set this up saying the folks are wonderful.<br /><br />So much excitement and writing this lets me see more clearly how exceptional this year has been, the days and weeks and months, so gloriously full and adventuresome. Perhaps one more posting before the end....?<br />Certo<br /><br />Abbracci<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-55168962594843588602010-07-01T09:01:00.000-07:002010-07-01T09:26:46.298-07:00Bracciano/Naples/Capocotta: July 1, 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeu-lEqN6HN0Bbw-yEl5en_LVfPzQzYZ-tOKQwO41hAndZXsFqfS0w9JMWZz6DynrcXepDNHkdeFMPwy8PiT5C33TJ_QI-vWu6NOJLzHx5uP0cucI4kFcbKV5UIYvgz6nO-1aWMxuhduc/s1600/IMG_8390.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeu-lEqN6HN0Bbw-yEl5en_LVfPzQzYZ-tOKQwO41hAndZXsFqfS0w9JMWZz6DynrcXepDNHkdeFMPwy8PiT5C33TJ_QI-vWu6NOJLzHx5uP0cucI4kFcbKV5UIYvgz6nO-1aWMxuhduc/s320/IMG_8390.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488973162412533570" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWZ21OhyYb4DgZ2_U14f1RdKizQR_sLhZESGvW-osE214YF4NgMKBDyMFHMyVSS9VauukWXDDeDCi2u7pT2D0hcwgMHq3S7GGuzKvR3mN8hkSpK55On96Af_1_EY9brncjECMkhBr5x4/s1600/IMG_8618.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWZ21OhyYb4DgZ2_U14f1RdKizQR_sLhZESGvW-osE214YF4NgMKBDyMFHMyVSS9VauukWXDDeDCi2u7pT2D0hcwgMHq3S7GGuzKvR3mN8hkSpK55On96Af_1_EY9brncjECMkhBr5x4/s320/IMG_8618.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488973157919457106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Yadz3WKgKxWQOyExbvrOvnxSn91V_YxIyq4hyphenhyphen0wh6otzEP-tkTZfqZ8uODKtQQnOSGlgmK97DvFKYoLO2-oZVhP8CY_XZIzzWdbv6bsqLaPmc6jvOhaJs6sGogFa5xRFJPf9LBFXssI/s1600/IMG_8482.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Yadz3WKgKxWQOyExbvrOvnxSn91V_YxIyq4hyphenhyphen0wh6otzEP-tkTZfqZ8uODKtQQnOSGlgmK97DvFKYoLO2-oZVhP8CY_XZIzzWdbv6bsqLaPmc6jvOhaJs6sGogFa5xRFJPf9LBFXssI/s320/IMG_8482.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488973145479423986" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNEOtcNL9FYJTehy38LJS94SzqQjCMzqc-W0SgBbybxrHjxn5eUDEawsZSfR-Dy03cX6BzDclGo9S1Dpjqz5JsZ4M8Atpcq7bVjCshxnMP6f59IgPP7HM1b-r2RMk5F8KzvhF7XPJlyk/s1600/IMG_8378.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNEOtcNL9FYJTehy38LJS94SzqQjCMzqc-W0SgBbybxrHjxn5eUDEawsZSfR-Dy03cX6BzDclGo9S1Dpjqz5JsZ4M8Atpcq7bVjCshxnMP6f59IgPP7HM1b-r2RMk5F8KzvhF7XPJlyk/s320/IMG_8378.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488973143906704866" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKoORTQKGQ4XdjNRMD2hbPPKfdBfEKt0nWbdrv6Uou1FksQkb3QSfm4_c7t6666-h181GGXWVspjy697xixnU0rcZ3BBkZ0Y37ckad1lVNrvdhHff9YxEuzzivcWHdMiZBa4JMA7xf88/s1600/IMG_8607.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKoORTQKGQ4XdjNRMD2hbPPKfdBfEKt0nWbdrv6Uou1FksQkb3QSfm4_c7t6666-h181GGXWVspjy697xixnU0rcZ3BBkZ0Y37ckad1lVNrvdhHff9YxEuzzivcWHdMiZBa4JMA7xf88/s320/IMG_8607.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488973136393805314" /></a><br /><br />July 1, 2010<br /><br />It’s busy here and steadily getting hotter.<br />I’ve been playing every other day, swimming out of doors: weekend before last (Jun 18th ?) at Sperlonga, with friends Ross and Adair, first time there since the fall. Beautiful. The water cold on first take and then riding the waves you warm up. Almost as long to get there by car as by train, but more convenient return for sure. We climbed up the beautiful city on the rocks for a light late lunch —delicious —as always in Italy. We were with New Zealanders who were crazy happy when the following Sunday they held Italy’s soccer team to 1-1. I really have never been a fan but it’s fun gathering in the tv room and watching those beautiful boys kick balls around!<br />Then last Saturday, June 26th, —I believe I’ve lost track of days— with new pal Christina at Lake Bracciano—kayaking and swimming, eating lunch, swimming and kayaking to a better beach, swimming some more. She is pro kayaker and I can hold my own. What a wonderful adventure! The lake is large, a reservoir for Rome (why they let us swim there I do not know?). Christina is head of Harvard’s poetry archive and an adventurer who matches my spirit nicely plus very very funny about university characters and lovers and the strangeness of our “bubble” here. We have had many many laughs. She leaves tomorrow sadly.<br />It has really been marvelously serendipitous the way people come and enter my life here. Patricia Tinajera is a sculptor artist from Ecuador, working in Tennessee and she was a wonderful companera as well. We went shopping for dresses on Tuesday a week or so ago and had lots of fun, plus we did studio exchange visits. She is smart, talented, funny and kind. I know both of these women I will see again.<br />As well Rome is showing me friends left and right. Wendy Artin, an artist here who lives in Rome has hosted me for dinner which is lovely to be in a Roman home with her two beautiful children plus handsome husband, who owns a travel book shop on Via Pelligrino. She does classical drawings very strong and swims at the same club as i—so we went out down to the pool together one late morning happily.<br />On June 10th I opened in a group show at Spazi Aperti, at the Romanian Academy with two parts from L’impero Invertito. They looked good, “poignant” said one woman who had seen them at the Academy. In this context they were more tender if that’s possible. It was total fun to ride on a new friend’s motorcycle in the heat, with the wind moving around. (I was careful to wear tights under my dress.) The show was particularly well curated I thought in the cortile basement so that was nice as that was where my videos were. The closing was on June 24th and another new friend B showed up. He lives in Trastevere and had wandered into the Academy show and seemed to like the work. We walked out from the Romanian academy and it was an almost full moon night with the magnificent soft air so we walked and walked and talked. He is a poet, knows Rome well —is French, lived here 8 years I think? Knows my friend and poet Kathleen Fraser (such odd serendipities yes?)—and shares his knowledge. A wonderful night— lovely dinner at Café Edy (this was a place I had been to in the fall) and then wondering from the wealthiest store windows (like some kind of magic house---occasionally showing only one red shoe with studs!) and then through the Jewish quarter where 200 men were milling around as presumably they do every night. Strangely tribal or Arabic, only three women on the corner of the crowd. I the only woman to walk through. B showed me the turtle fountain and a special stair up through Trastevere where Nano Moretti filmed. I will need get the name of that film and check it out. Such a memorable evening.<br />Then Monday after the Lake we went to a beach, Capocotta—or cooked head! We left early and it was marvelous. Swimming great, viewing as well and building a careful tan. He has a car so it is easy. We go tomorrow again! I am looking forward to it.<br />Yesterday to Napoli with Stephen Westfall. I am working every other day!<br />Naples was wonderful— a mix of Palermo and Cairo. Intense colorful, a kind of 34th street in NYC. We first stopped at church with magnificent Caravaggio—my favorite large-scale work of his so far. With all the Caravaggio shows I have seen this year, we have seen almost all of his work: two large retrospectives in Rome, one in Florence and the odd ones in Naples and Sicily and in churches throughout Rome. Amazing.<br />On to the Duomo where we saw Peragino (which I miraculously recognized though it was not identified—the guard told us later). There is something in his landscapes, color and tenderness of the faces that suggested it was his to me. We also saw a fading Giotta and wonderful Domenichinos. Then onto the Madre which is a contemporary museum…quite great in terms of curatorical choices: very specific, related to the area interestingly: for example a Warhol of a volcano, beautiful. This is Vesuvius territory of course. There was a Franz West retrospective on and I don’t really know him well so that was good to see. He is very influential. You can see Rachel Harrison coming out of his blobs and also Rachel Whiteread. He is funny, a montage artist from Austria. Powerful show.<br />Then onto the Anthropological museum which was incredible: the Farnese marbles and Pompei frescos were overwhelming. The statues either huge or just simply beautiful and memorable —some from the baths of Caracalla: eros riding a dolphin, an amazon almost falling off her horse. Handsome men in pairs or older men very muscled. Glorious glorious. The Pompeian paintings are truly remarkable. I have now to go to Ostia and then Pompei if possible? Will I make this?<br />I still need to finish up some shooting . a sailboat is happening next week for the death of Shelley ! and this weekend I go to film the baths of Caracalla. <br />All this —after another 5 hours back and forth to Roma Est to the apple store for my computer on Monday AFTER the beach—I am still working hard it seems. Did get new one and still having trouble with Microsoft. Damn those apple guys. But happy. Things are moving along.<br /> No time to relax except when it is immense relaxation …somewhere splendida . Life here is amazing. I am relishing every minute of this bubble. When the days appear where we are not fed, I am in shock. What will I do when real world enters? For now it is all poignant all pleasure intense with friends and light and heat and art.<br /><br />I am loving Rome. It is where one falls in love, with the city and with a lifestyle that is sensual, rich in visual pleasure.<br />A presto mi amiciAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-16809316914065460372010-06-17T05:43:00.000-07:002010-06-17T06:06:47.012-07:00June 16th, 2010 Florence<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5DFtMM871Teib_rdKVqjMPYNGYF7ges86QjLshCGZ-9U9tdYWl_mO6A6h0lfbaXoPkMmHwsb8wOrrwxT0wALDKnb-exfapl9aeohgBM314b35tytnU0aBTR2ELHSFL_Vabs0XSfkqzs/s1600/IMG_7965martini*.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5DFtMM871Teib_rdKVqjMPYNGYF7ges86QjLshCGZ-9U9tdYWl_mO6A6h0lfbaXoPkMmHwsb8wOrrwxT0wALDKnb-exfapl9aeohgBM314b35tytnU0aBTR2ELHSFL_Vabs0XSfkqzs/s320/IMG_7965martini*.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483726038959607714" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsk-IQXY37lIZWU0h3CrDN-LaErZdvkd78iX84z5Gornz_6e_E3Ub9Q7rH8EmYJres6q70NY8XV3Gizwtiz2V2BGWFz2Bi2c8MY_ODYlmxEiKuFKFzti1iL6zBLoE-FEzCnDj3Y2P0bo/s1600/IMG_7964martini*.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsk-IQXY37lIZWU0h3CrDN-LaErZdvkd78iX84z5Gornz_6e_E3Ub9Q7rH8EmYJres6q70NY8XV3Gizwtiz2V2BGWFz2Bi2c8MY_ODYlmxEiKuFKFzti1iL6zBLoE-FEzCnDj3Y2P0bo/s320/IMG_7964martini*.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483726030563910834" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXwvNjTTdVWR1fwaHwezgpu3TcJBvtCeCOuRvhZgdrbuz9JC7iZQkhz9UNEuFdKcD5vjeq5vRXvuFcHHG2pK7jHF0L0YJtyCORfaBd8VM6sAl4Gbj99oax_4wghkIoiH9akyk8vjxW4Q/s1600/IMG_8102trainstation.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXwvNjTTdVWR1fwaHwezgpu3TcJBvtCeCOuRvhZgdrbuz9JC7iZQkhz9UNEuFdKcD5vjeq5vRXvuFcHHG2pK7jHF0L0YJtyCORfaBd8VM6sAl4Gbj99oax_4wghkIoiH9akyk8vjxW4Q/s320/IMG_8102trainstation.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483726043229783874" /></a><br /><br />June 16, 2010<br /><br />Just back from day trip to Florence this Tuesday. Amazing, too fast, but what a city. Smaller than Rome, cleaner, and more yellow—as I remember from 25 plus years ago —than Rome. Rome is redder, the buildings yellow and red and rose and orange. And of course Rome is older and less neat, more lived in? Perhaps we didn’t go to the funky neighborhoods of Firenze? We managed to miss the tourists which is nigh impossible at this season. Thanks to Stephen Westfall whose obsessive painterly pursuits led the trip and these eyes into ecstasies. First the train station: a magnificent fascist blunt beauty with glass lining its front and roof. If a bit stolid from the outside (you could undervalue it as my brother did the fabulous Libero post office on Via Marmorata in Rome), it is wondrously airy and light inside— a feast of ceiling turning light and the clock the clock the clock. A marvel of typography and form. Quick easy legible and a beauty.<br /><br />[Please note: the statue pictures above are from the electric plant that serves as backdrop to classical sculpture in Testaccio in Rome that I didn't have chance to include previously. We are definitely living simultaneously!] <br /><br />Then –we hit the streets, turn a corner and there is the church S. Maria Novella with green and white striped marble front: Venetian arches via Islamic and Norman influence ( remember Sicilia). This version with thick columns in the inner cortile. The church itself filled with paintings and clearly different from Roman churches. Whereas Rome is a cradle of the Baroque, Florence was a bigger city in the 14th and 15th century, more powerful at an earlier era so it reveals a minimalist baroque or even, spare 14th century gothic styles. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYrvXroNQInEqJitHyapRKFIrgpVlK4853UQwzQMRv6bKWalBHA2OcmFUGaoJp3Dpvo1W09OpreeP46KYFkJcj1BRrezDbmaDk_hKg7RVAlTv0eZKjj5FlFyQZOhVXBTJ9Enqc25vt4c/s1600/IMG_8124devils.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFYrvXroNQInEqJitHyapRKFIrgpVlK4853UQwzQMRv6bKWalBHA2OcmFUGaoJp3Dpvo1W09OpreeP46KYFkJcj1BRrezDbmaDk_hKg7RVAlTv0eZKjj5FlFyQZOhVXBTJ9Enqc25vt4c/s320/IMG_8124devils.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483726026850994082" /></a>Altars are hung with paintings, not so much marble and gold and statuary or ‘shaping’ the presentation as there are walls with a canvas or panel, then a wall next-door with another canvas or panel, around the entire church. These seem airier, lighter, less heavy. Thus Florence is this feast of paintings and frescos—whether by Filippino Lippi, Masaccio, Bronzino, Domenico Ghirlandaio, or his apprentice the young Michelangelo (1485-1490), Giotta, plus a number of other talented contemporaries that I and even Stephen had not heard of…Bernardo Daddi for one. All in a single church!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiWyVS49NDGuShDlnFmdQMQoRvQY6vj53YWEYi1NMHpOBFymQGuRykMamSd9XuxLG4bUO3lM394FQTAbyvWrPUREAvrDKbkQVLUWJUtHBl-XLMZz5ZZ0QksZBRKy9gLH6eOzimuUHPQ4/s1600/IMG_8126dancing+ladies.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiWyVS49NDGuShDlnFmdQMQoRvQY6vj53YWEYi1NMHpOBFymQGuRykMamSd9XuxLG4bUO3lM394FQTAbyvWrPUREAvrDKbkQVLUWJUtHBl-XLMZz5ZZ0QksZBRKy9gLH6eOzimuUHPQ4/s320/IMG_8126dancing+ladies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483726044378979538" /></a><br /><br />On to the museum next door which is in truth a cortile with old monastery, square interior garden leading to a room of frescos topped by a boat: the ship of fools we are! decorated from 1365 to 1367 by Andrea Bonaiuti (I have never heard of him). Beautiful beautiful as it replays creation in front of us, the fall below. This is a period of art when mobility is in the clothes— vestiti—long skirts flowing ribbon-like behind skipping figures. Adam and Eve eating fruit happily dressed. There remains an order, a placidity, in faces and layout. Very satisfying, transcendent as well as light lit, with just a hint of the underworld nuttiness—in devils and creatures that tempt and play at the edges of the peopled world.. As we leave we note the nearly destroyed frescos outside under the roof of the cortile. A number are by Ucello, marvelously great: a snake with a woman’s head (yes we know she is seductive) and then a flood scene which is less Bosch and more di Chirico—amazing angles, shadows of people attempting fruitlessly to get on the boat: frightening and fabulous and decaying beautifully, the terror of drowning.<br /><br />The Brancacci Chapel was closed on Tuesdays so we miss the Masaccio, which Stephen wanted to see. There was one in the church, but not as late or poignantly special as our Sicilian Madonna’s annunciation in Palermo. Along with Stephen I have become a fan of annunciations….those little doves or angels with their yellow light beams from hand/eye to belly! beautiful delicate quite marvelous—there hovers over these the mystery of birth. Living in obscure ambiguities indeed.<br /><br />Speaking of which a new nephew courtesy of my older sister’s youngest Elizabeth. Born June 10th. 2010. AUGURI!<br /><br />Back in Florence we are on to "the best" gelato place with indeed best pear gelato I have ever had…almost a sorbet with a strong taste of fruit….divine.<br /><br />Walking on to The Basilica of Santa Maria del Santo Spirito…a gorgeous plain flat pre-baroque masterpiece. As if carved of a slab of cheese yellow with deep curls on the top end, few windows. Facing a square with no tourists. We have just gone the <br />"other” route to all the wonderful places where the tourists don’t go in Florence. <br /><br />We repair with a short lunch: Stephen with pasta and sharing my salad. Then because the Brancacci was closed we head to Pitti Palace which is a feast (the Medici did well here in their inimitable overstated way): 8 Raphaels in a room. At least 4 Botticellis and one of them rivals <span style="font-style:italic;">La Primavera</span>. Titian, Correggio, Rubens, and Pietro da Cortona. Caravaggio’s <span style="font-style:italic;">sleeping cupid</span> which we have seen twice now. Giusto Sustermans of whom I had never heard, Tintoretto, Sebastiano del Piombo, Ribero, Bronzini, a small Cranach looped with anonymous paintings near a 4-poster bed. Weird odd fabulous conjunctions, feast for your eyes: blue and then rose and then green rooms with lush uglinesses of gold and splendor. This is enormous stamina for painting painting painting. Could you sustain? <span style="font-style:italic;">In 2005 the surprise discovery of forgotten 18th-century bathrooms in the Palazzo revealed remarkable examples of contemporary plumbing very similar in style to the bathrooms of the 21st century.</span> Way oversize tub next to a chaise lounge I wanted to lie on.<br /><br />We looked out periodically at the Boboli gardens that rose behind us in layered levels, high formal green, peopled with tourists while the Palazzo itself was rather quiet, empty. You could sit and look or wander or do as we did, pull each other by the arm and say “look look.”<br /><br />Amazement. We were booked on an early train (Stephen and I disagreed on this part of the plan—to be home in time for Academy dinner!) so we rushed out of there, stopped <br />for a moment at Santo Spirito which had been closed previously to wander through the amazing paintings (as well!) and a quick stop back at Santa Trinita, a 14th century church best known for its collection of frescoes by artists such as Ghirlandaio, Aretino and Monaco. The Ghirlandaio annunciation is luminous. <br /><br />On to the train station stopping long enough to photograph that clock that clock.<br />Back at AAR for rabbit dinner——quite delicious and I don’t particularly like rabbit.<br /><br />Have missed telling you about computer problems. Don't you want to know!?!? New machine crashed and burnt within 7 days of opening it! Having to spend day with assistant crossing town to get to mac mall official store outside of Rome in depressing mall surrounded by half built suburbs whose folks don’t answer the phone. Don’t even ask! Seems so unimportant faced with these transcendent faces and shapes and sizings and landscapes.<br /><br />Wishing you auguri and sun when you want to go to the beach. We are hoping this weekend to Sperlonga. Will keep you posted.<br /><br />A.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-73458835218383156972010-06-10T01:53:00.000-07:002010-06-10T02:18:23.599-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8O2gY_GD87zwKD_UIh6QHK6X1r5Xy_SUroYEf0xJsSI0y6id6lpEvLwUh3CxMs9GuyxgpU9glVVRR9zvhEPc2kNO10X6el9nR1HElbyaC-ucVWxmou2CJXGlVXqRCKijK1HzOs4j300/s1600/shelley+tombstone.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8O2gY_GD87zwKD_UIh6QHK6X1r5Xy_SUroYEf0xJsSI0y6id6lpEvLwUh3CxMs9GuyxgpU9glVVRR9zvhEPc2kNO10X6el9nR1HElbyaC-ucVWxmou2CJXGlVXqRCKijK1HzOs4j300/s320/shelley+tombstone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481071589656570050" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2KZuLe8o97ne_7pDh9cNuRgRqaJv1eBzC3hT-vyRy_l-NLA3_lvOvx6O-TpeOQozgaiH4W-wLTzE-1hVzEJ6bsAfaH4DLIACbWRLEpR20g14TU-VzOXSHFNezi3WrWx9eD-UYIzhL5g/s1600/angel.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2KZuLe8o97ne_7pDh9cNuRgRqaJv1eBzC3hT-vyRy_l-NLA3_lvOvx6O-TpeOQozgaiH4W-wLTzE-1hVzEJ6bsAfaH4DLIACbWRLEpR20g14TU-VzOXSHFNezi3WrWx9eD-UYIzhL5g/s320/angel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481071586014538722" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh6HjGRl-AauLmKO3PNHNsXZoEIgepPt9uLt8J4d-zQI0uyrmea-YCyslBVXjFF1Qioqr7LPZPPFtprXlxfXwHB2XV6SuXIce_Vv2Mzsy29vo1g9cMr1Wh-izCN6AT2bjhHgcFjD8yGU/s1600/agnes.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh6HjGRl-AauLmKO3PNHNsXZoEIgepPt9uLt8J4d-zQI0uyrmea-YCyslBVXjFF1Qioqr7LPZPPFtprXlxfXwHB2XV6SuXIce_Vv2Mzsy29vo1g9cMr1Wh-izCN6AT2bjhHgcFjD8yGU/s320/agnes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481071582203147138" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGRkdTsogPmOKSaFvUmecnu4CcYT-MdN0uFPj8ir09hO_d76lSgY5tC10Kqb0O91lPsm2RUlCM4Hfd8_PnLwIEzKZ3oDu7e9lG5OwnlRmW5feS06i_gMwv39YMsZsO-RMxGkU2GNsilQ/s1600/IMG_8082.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGRkdTsogPmOKSaFvUmecnu4CcYT-MdN0uFPj8ir09hO_d76lSgY5tC10Kqb0O91lPsm2RUlCM4Hfd8_PnLwIEzKZ3oDu7e9lG5OwnlRmW5feS06i_gMwv39YMsZsO-RMxGkU2GNsilQ/s320/IMG_8082.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481071578014020818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj3ICXYVwtW_oNzPHV0q70x74w3aCHSAFO1_yWnDmpe8txwKPlyY4Lkfps3aLEyW7uvvC9h3lz4C0dZyCQG7CBY3DKC_AbW4RxDIT1gr5Qz4zHxMq0OfBZ3C3HphwZqzAo5fC-nkGIPk/s1600/fresco.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj3ICXYVwtW_oNzPHV0q70x74w3aCHSAFO1_yWnDmpe8txwKPlyY4Lkfps3aLEyW7uvvC9h3lz4C0dZyCQG7CBY3DKC_AbW4RxDIT1gr5Qz4zHxMq0OfBZ3C3HphwZqzAo5fC-nkGIPk/s320/fresco.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481071572442627538" /></a><br />June 7th 2010<br />New status of heat. I am keeping my Roman shades down during the day. With fan I am fine but just raising those blades and the heat pours in. It is summer 79 degrees at 10am. Lots of sunscreen, hats that ruin my curls et al. Hoping to hit the beach soon.<br /><br />Meanwhile missed rainy days last week when I should have been photographing the grey grey skies. Will have to catch it once more if possible (maybe no?). All this for Shelley piece which is winding to a close. Shot the creature from Frankenstein this week, two nights ago, at Villa Aurelia with lights on the grounds at night. Had the inspiration to wrap the creatures’s head with gauze and white strips of cotton, make up his face scarily (tho no makeup artist am I) and then put a tan ‘puffy blouse’ on him. Which made him a disturbed clone of the poet himself. Perfect for Mary Shelley’s own feelings. She subtitles the book after all: <span style="font-style:italic;">the modern Prometheus.</span><br /><br />Speaking of which, we went to the Villa Aurora, or Villa Ludovici yesterday. It was originally the American Academy before this building was built. Across town bordering on the Borghese, it used to have 80 acres of gardens that were broken apart by the construction of the Via Veneto. A beautiful villa with bare remains of the gardens but the frescos the frescos the frescos! Many amazing Guerini ones with the brightest colors I have seen, and the softest limbs, faces——a kind of shimmering skin edge. Lovely. Then on the second floor the famous Caravaggio done when he was 25, a tour de force on the ceiling with Jupiter pushing the celestial orb away (or towards?) Pluto and Neptune, all portraits of himself. You are looking up at the gods and presumably C. painted his own genitals, since you are looking up their legs—strange and wonderful foreshortening—while looking in a mirror. Three dogs bark dangerously close —the triple headed cereberus. Amazing. <br /><br />The house a wonder and it was viewed as too small for real living, was instead a pleasure palace and hunting lodge originally. It would of course suit 20-30 people! Another Renaissance spectacular. The blue of one wall that had not been repaired yet was magnificent as were the three enormous elephant tusks sitting on the floor besides. All led by Princess Rita, a blond Texan who is new wife of the Count (who is very thin and speaks perfect English as educated in England and Switzerland), and dedicated to renovating the place. Very nice with lots of cosmetic surgery and a big smile. She told us to "come on back".<br /><br />We left to lunch in the park with Patrizia (a visiting fellow artist from Tennessee via Ecuador) and Ann and Richard (remember Sicily?). <br /><br />The week before my brother Jon was here with his daughter and her mom: Chloe and Becky. I showed them around a bit—including the magnificent Keats Shelley Graveyard (finally got there and filmed what I could with still camera) and the Museum Villa Martini down in Testaccio which combines classical sculpture with a power station from the early 20th c. Beautiful pieces of Roman mosaic and sculpture. An amazing goat from 400 bc that was very detailed, poigant. We got lunch from Volpetti’s and parked ourselves outside my swimming pool on plastic chairs to eat. So quite local. I could not however get them to go to a "real dinner" at a restaurant. I guess the cost was prohibitive, but to come all the way to Italy and not experience food as entertainment in the Italian way was hard for me to comprehend. Particularly after the foody experience of this academy and our time here We did eat one night at the Academy and I think that was fun for them. Chloe is very poised (as Jon has been telling me) and could answer the drunken Fellow who shouted at her the first night with aplomb. That first night was crazy however—with Jonny arriving and fearful that he was experiencing another heart attack. We landed at an Italian public hospital Sunday night —which treated him well and kindly (at no cost: as he said, they didn't even have his phone number!) and it was, luckily, a false alarm! Lots of relief there. <br /><br />Almost forgot, right after Jon arrived, I was off for two days to Madrid for my show at Reina Sophia Contemporary Art Museum. Flight was uneventful though longer than I imagined—isn’t it simply across the Mediterranean? Show was fantastic. Films looked good (all on dvd pretty much) and audience was appreciative. Talk after was interesting especially since the translation they had done had “normalized” the poetic slippage I had created in the last two films: MIRROR WORLD and LIGATURES. Odd and perhaps predictable. So that “shimmying” became “brillante” which isn’t it at all. And “one on the face” became “one eye on the face” which erased the violent punchiness of the original mistranslation. Now I have to write on both the 'use of humor' and translation/mistranslation. I look forward to that as they have both been on my mind and in my work for a while now.<br /><br />I am going to stop as I am about to be picked up to install the last of the group shows: spazi aperti at the Rumanian Academy and my computer—which has taken up tooooo much of my time lately (transitioning to new macbook pro)—is acting up on microsoft. Probably snow leopard demands a microsoft version that my school doesn't have...<br /><br />ciao<br />a presto<br />A.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-32175138246162763782010-05-29T07:58:00.001-07:002010-05-29T08:23:03.813-07:00May 29th Trustee Week!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiLWFSicy0NWy_RU5Nv1v3xqJ_7e2wldtqBS7j3AdQNsiiQmERjMHzOThhsha0JEy1tj9UmevVbBJq4UZbceh3end1ZlcZ2V01DtxFrRTgXu3FU4TL3rqygsUTOXRnzSpyGtjiXrQ4cU/s1600/IMG_6499.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiLWFSicy0NWy_RU5Nv1v3xqJ_7e2wldtqBS7j3AdQNsiiQmERjMHzOThhsha0JEy1tj9UmevVbBJq4UZbceh3end1ZlcZ2V01DtxFrRTgXu3FU4TL3rqygsUTOXRnzSpyGtjiXrQ4cU/s320/IMG_6499.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476709006018764466" /></a><br /><br />May 29th 2010,<br />I believe I will be playing catchup for the rest of my time here, or at least the next month.<br />It is wild living at such a furious pace. I feel I have been invited to a week long party on an island and I am stuck here! Its really rather lux but even too much lux is too much. We are in middle of trustee week, with open studios last Thursday after last Tuesday’s opening at Santo Spirito at Sassio.<br /><br />Began the week mounting the show at Santo Spirito. Stressful as location built for me was quite small. I made mistake of giving image dimensions not room dimensions, but piece looked spectacular nonetheless—many people attested….! It was <span style="font-style:italic;">MIRRORWORLDS</span> in its original three-screen incarnation, now shown on single wall, as secular altar piece, supposedly middle image larger but the small space made this hard to obtain. Left Santo Spirito Monday a bit unsettled to return Tuesday where we repaired as best we could. The opening itself went well. Many people, including some friends—the surprise of Magdalena Campos Pons and Carrie Mae Weems plus husband. Carrie seemed taken with <span style="font-style:italic;">MW</span>. An independent curator friend of Giovanna’s showed up, very complimentary as was James Baron, another independent curator with whom my paths have crossed numerous times while here in Rome. His wife Jeannette is an accomplished photographer—enjoyed her book immensely, a less theatric Nan Golden but looking at same social set.<br /><br />Next door to the enormous, aged golden rectangular space with 50 ft ceilings where we were exhibiting, was another space the same size. Not as well installed in fact but with many wonderful pieces. The show from a collection, I believe—of contemporary work. The Clairbout lovely and transcendentally clever, a beautiful Burri in reds and brown, an interesting heretofore not known Polish woman playing with light and space, a noisy video that said nothing but had a powerful percussive beat belaying the entire room, an early reflective Eliasson, <br /><br />Wednesday came and Mary, my invaluable assistant, and myself set up for Open Studios for Thursday. This involved immense cleaning and moving and rearranging and imagining how to make the space work showing 3 different pieces. Ended up with Shelley dailies large in front (5x6 ft) , 2 portrait dvds from <span style="font-style:italic;">L’impero Invertito</span> playing in left back , shaping the corner, rather small 2x3 ft projections. Across the way, right back was flat-screen monitor with <span style="font-style:italic;">The Future Is Behind You</span>, to show my inspiration and what dailies might get shaped into (dangling preposition if not daring one).<br /><br />Exhausted but happy with results and had 300-400 people come through. No less than 10, up to 30 at any one time. Here's a pix of one couple who seem to have followed my work. THey said lovely things in Italian that I could understand. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrow6qftfZsSnh90ocXtM107VoB6_osW7VEvYp9yBFz7aNbpz5TAseTxm93aKy8GgMx-14-MfnuTEM-ANXbJI4aV26MspNkaoOulBnQ2ZvTHAV87naK4jy69zekzqtvLUZVQyb3Hpp5I/s1600/512+Francesca+Abigail+e+Rolando.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrow6qftfZsSnh90ocXtM107VoB6_osW7VEvYp9yBFz7aNbpz5TAseTxm93aKy8GgMx-14-MfnuTEM-ANXbJI4aV26MspNkaoOulBnQ2ZvTHAV87naK4jy69zekzqtvLUZVQyb3Hpp5I/s320/512+Francesca+Abigail+e+Rolando.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476708988216356610" /></a><br />Some people loved the portraits from the installation, others <span style="font-style:italic;">The Future</span>, others the Shelley 'dailies'. NO one seemed to see the conjunctions between them, or talked about all three in any interesting way. Robert Storrs came by late, was noncommittal, really did not spend enough time to warrant his “I’ve seen enough”. Ouch. <br /><br />Mostly felt quite good: I had done a quick edit Wed night of Shelley footage, after leaving the job till too late (really), was tipsy a bit after dinner, but wanted still to make a longer dvd than I had had November last. Well…I really didn’t leave enough time……veramente. Got started processing the edit at 1am. Went to bed and woke up at 5ish am feeling anxious about technology involved. At 5:30 got out of bed and went to studio (had to pull on clothes, feeling grubby) to check. Well..there was a real problem and I realized it wasn’t going to make it by 6pm for opening. So there at the last moment., opened up my new computer that I just received the day before (bow to Lauren K. who carried back) and got it going. Did a version upgraded to new computer and had to re-back up some files that were on my itunes on old computer, not in capture scratch (okay this is tech talk…read on skip on).<br />After doing that, worked fine. Another hitch with new version of compressor, solved with Mary on phone (that girl is a tech wizard) and an hour and half later, I had the dvd! Okay speed is worth it!<br /><br /><br />Backwards two weeks, after arriving from nyc, we had a walk entitled “the other Rome” which involved traveling to various 20th century worker’s utopic housing units. May 7th a Friday. Still haunts. Pictures to follow in another post.<br /><br />First up: Villagggio Olimpico by Adalberto Libera and Luigi Moretti, near the Renzo piano auditorium. These were housing for communal workers built in 1958-60 for the Olympics. Recently – 1998 – they state has sold the apartments to the renters who wanted to buy them and so they are slowly going on the market. Roberto our guide, pointed out the two story houses on pilotis by Libera. “These work as a repeated module on a cross plan with a stair in the empty middle space that leads to the four apartments per floor.” Very 50s 60s suburban, flat walls with half or full windows. The backs more interesting to me: the detailing of the concrete and floor to ceiling windows that were narrow and yet had a balcony feel. Suddenly no longer international style 50/60 modernism but a more original detailing of roman meditarranean dimension. And out the back fittingly, nature has grown wild, interacting with these rationalist buildings (rectangular shapes and ordinary materials) creating unexpected differentiations. “The randomness of how things have developed is what gives these buildings their humanity” <br /><br />Then on to San Policarpo, a church next to a fantastic park. Built in 1960 by Giuseppe Nicolosi. Simple and very visible use of materials—concrete and metal— used in a striking vertical plan, odd, even shattered, or rather torn, yet placid. <br />The setting a long extended park with roman aqueducts in distance. Presumably a neighborhood where Pasolini shot. Now much changed: a kind of suburbia (really outskirts of rome) splaying out from park. Quiet. <br /><br />Circling on ward, starting from the north and moving clockwise through the city we come to Unità d’Abitazione Orizzontale built by Adalberto Libera in 1950-54. These are 200 apartments of one story houses with small enclosed gardens and on a block plan. Reminded one of California single story homes. The shared blocks are not for cars and thus have all manner of plants and flowers, both communal and diverse. Pleasant and room for a bicycle although at this distance you might want a car. Nice green space and low density indeed. All the blocks are painted in different colors to distinguish and individualize the streets. <br /><br />Quartiere Tuscolano II which I don’t remember as well was built in 1950-54, another post war developemtn of high buildings funded by the state as part of recreating the economy and giving modern housing to the many persons leaving the countryside to move to the cities in search of work. INA casa projects exist almost everywhere in the country, from Bologna to Matera. In Rome there are many other INA csa projects as Tiburtino I, II and III; Tuscolano I, across the way; Quartiere Ponte Mammolo; Quartiere San Basilio, but this is the largest. 35,5 hectares 3150 apartment for approximately 18,000 inhabitants.The long v shaped building is by De Renzi Muratori while the star shaped 9 story towers with 4 apartments per floor are by De Renzi alone. [much of my informative notes are from our guide Roberto Caracciola].<br /><br />San Saba I and II: IACP housing project built between 1907 and 1923 by Giovanni Bellucci and Quadrio Pirani. Interestingly the mayor at that time, Ernesto Nathan, was English and Jewish (! Reasoning re romevs papal politics). He brought this English sensibility, creating small houses, with northern ‘piedmontese’ details: two stories in general with gardens in front and back. A more spacious Park Slope, Brooklyn? Glorious place to live indeed. Now quite valuable. a great example of housing in what was then a relatively new capital of the country. 567 apartment and 1952 rooms.<br /><br /><br />Garbatella—the most unique of the Roman neighborhoods. Coincidently our yoga teacher has just moved into one of the larger buildings. Built between 1921 and 1940 the overall plan was by Gustavo Giovannoni and Massimo Piacentini. 26 hectares, with individual houses by De Renzi and Marconi. Separated into large and small buildings, irregular blocks, running up and down hills south of Testaccio— the small buildings lovely, not individual houses but doubles, some 4 apts to a building. In one block all different styles but all within traditions of Italian architecture, whether with ships’ rail or farmhouse stucco roof and porch. Beautiful gardens. It is jasmine time.<br /><br />We in the academy swoon coming into the Cornile.<br /><br />In Garbatella, the blocks have signs in which the fascist symbol has been hammered out. <br /><br />Then Corviale outside the city, nearer the airport. 1972- 1982 By Mario Fiorentino, Federico Gorio, Piero Maria Lugli, Giulio Sterbini and Michele Valori. The design on the walls are by artists Nicola Carrino. A huge narrow housing project. A city within a city but without charm and as result, all that was to be correlated to the residential apartments never came into being abandoning the inhabitants to their devices. Instead of being dynamited like US failed housing projects. This monstrousity, out in the wild so to speak is left alone. The tenants no longer pay rent. So though relatively far from the city with no amenities—no schools or supermarkets close—it is still inhabited, less dangerous than before with expensive cars in the parking lot.<br /><br />I’m sleepy so for now I will sign off. Ciao.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-83436059481575539502010-05-24T14:15:00.000-07:002010-05-24T14:46:01.674-07:00may 24th 2010: "You keep it clean"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKu_jbAhhnf0EEuACYx8j41SMgKzMjrGZD4IYdVp29I7sz3o3HUYchGlKXwA7rIPRvqu1R5kJnm0Mur5xa6Fhq_eLTfBMd_Ewfu129AMob0Ci9HIeVjQdkJEdRxR-PN0Y9RY_B2FHDu6w/s1600/cherub+face.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKu_jbAhhnf0EEuACYx8j41SMgKzMjrGZD4IYdVp29I7sz3o3HUYchGlKXwA7rIPRvqu1R5kJnm0Mur5xa6Fhq_eLTfBMd_Ewfu129AMob0Ci9HIeVjQdkJEdRxR-PN0Y9RY_B2FHDu6w/s320/cherub+face.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474955229285529554" /></a><br /><br />May 24, 2010<br />a month later. So much to say and do and remember. One is living so densely it is hard to keep up with events. <br />My dream life remains vivid<br /><br />NYC ended with a wonderful welcome. The show at Poetry Project was ultimately a pleasure though the panel was vague. Not enough disagreement nor question. Remembering Ann’s lecture on Livy where he says "democracy needs opposition." So does thought and dialogue. The films —often with a bit too much b/w nature footage to my taste— set up SURFACE NOISE beautifully (okay, okay—I am writing about my own film here but in truth, I hadn’t seen it in at least 5 years. found it charged) came on as powercolor rollercoaster, or visual spoonerisms in a foxfire of ambient idioms. Indeed. Passion and velocity and humor and quizzical quotidians. Questions/comments rolled: in regard to the comic in art? transitions, speed of change, “You release the viewer from this or that associative impression as quickly as possible without being jumpy or evasive, using a subtle and terse language. You keep it "clean." Courtesy of poet Anne Tardos. Steve Benson’s voiceover in the film: <span style="font-style:italic;">“why you love the pastoral so much—is because your whole life is…… work”</span> which is not only sociological reality (comically phrased) but also a mechanism of desire through/in opposition. Where when we are seeking.<br /> This = vibrato of life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFqSBzgIdCT268hwitCP1vLB_e2N4vGlDGQq6-maKT6hamEnnAIDAKGIAkZIqhkwkkpDr4_Vk9drNxo54yRExlaSKFWLWcVGOK1zxEQQ9tnotiHnvEVxDl0Vb748NC3zSIprzeEzMOyw/s1600/IMG_6265*monastery.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFqSBzgIdCT268hwitCP1vLB_e2N4vGlDGQq6-maKT6hamEnnAIDAKGIAkZIqhkwkkpDr4_Vk9drNxo54yRExlaSKFWLWcVGOK1zxEQQ9tnotiHnvEVxDl0Vb748NC3zSIprzeEzMOyw/s320/IMG_6265*monastery.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474955224398710354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56uB0y0ahGfeNDcYK_08iSu7izFXyOIgjYgNSD7G06tn4mTwkwVyuObmkHUi-fNiDghdJenGq1TigJpqZibg4RaogiZ-XsTj77Risk6e6NJPoXqMkccIKhh_OcbRyCedRmtUXH1chmYY/s1600/IMG_6361two+wrestlers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56uB0y0ahGfeNDcYK_08iSu7izFXyOIgjYgNSD7G06tn4mTwkwVyuObmkHUi-fNiDghdJenGq1TigJpqZibg4RaogiZ-XsTj77Risk6e6NJPoXqMkccIKhh_OcbRyCedRmtUXH1chmYY/s320/IMG_6361two+wrestlers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474955216677756994" /></a><br /><br /><br />More people to see and hang with before boarding my free Continental return flight—including Henry and Sean and Charles B and Susan and quick interface with Bob and Francie. Too many people I know have cancer on the West Coast, but here despite various grievances and strength joy smartaleck-y-ness, minds are clicking and my apartment with green plants red blossoms simply happy...so. Trip home (I have now just called Rome home!) was easy. My sister Toni and brother-in-law Bob visiting after postponed earlier tour-due-to-volcano, so turning round, unpacking, visiting, showing them Academy (glorious)—visiting ghetto and synagogue museum, if not the best installation, interesting particulars. You realize Jews were everywhere in Europe and isolationist. a kind of fundamental community as it would appear today —self defined, barely tolerated, religious, separate…both self and social.<br /><br />speaking of which (?), Morton Feldman and Phillip Guston celebration today up at Villa Aurelia. Learned or re-remembered Guston changing his name from Goldstein. Puts in perspective, is this self-loathing…….? what kind of repression? Yet too the intricacy of gene pool. <span style="font-style:italic;">Said not the answer they wanted.</span><br />One great lecture this afternoon called "trauma/ideal". Arguing that Guston finding his father hung, released in/through painting this never=to-leave trauma; collapsed on him forever. A way to read light bulb cartoons and his depression, (internally I said to myself: obsession), repression too of course, even as he moves from abstraction to representation to <span style="font-style:italic;">undo</span> repression. The speaker had found his own dad dead (!) and talked about always wanting to put things together to make beautiful, harmonious, but finding he was always tearing same apart. What we know. The status of the given. The answer they wanted. <br /><br />Today was multiplex: trying to get show up at the st. Spiritus in Sassio down by Vatican. Very slowly eating lunch awaiting projectors, checking said projectors, then back up to academy via Janicula for recording voiceover with Mary, then a leap to Guston conference. once again reminding me of Guston's bravery, to brave the scorn of his colleagues, to do what he had to do—and that these colleagues largely missed the humor and desperation in the work. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxAN20Cnl9DrsHl59NeXgacB6Ou5Ect9Is3miim8sJf3AAVYc9atbjDGrmVmzIRLnkgIh0WextFhDe80m3lunYWXs6q53wYzfE_QNPcfqJm7uAozgifAMbuJv8pd7cBzR53jwohb5LiQ/s1600/Invite+Pictures.jpg.+no+text.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 118px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxAN20Cnl9DrsHl59NeXgacB6Ou5Ect9Is3miim8sJf3AAVYc9atbjDGrmVmzIRLnkgIh0WextFhDe80m3lunYWXs6q53wYzfE_QNPcfqJm7uAozgifAMbuJv8pd7cBzR53jwohb5LiQ/s320/Invite+Pictures.jpg.+no+text.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474955210766977826" /></a><br /><br />Fun in very different sense to see him drawing in Villa Sciarra by the terribly strange, almost kitschy, lion-women fountain. I filmed same place in l6mm this winter, in nearly black and white since rare, once in 25 year, snow drained color out of the scene. The puffy paws become distortions of body in Guston. The snow on the palm trees a true impossible moment, surrealist and morning in mine.<br />In middle of talks, rain starts up with terrific thunder and then sun as musician played piano piece of Feldman upstairs towards sunset. Very beautiful as light leaped in; one expected a rainbow. The city ahead of us; the clouds increasing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSSZTBU9LZcvi6qaoGWEtkx8O9KtnhnyoUEmFVOnPYWp6W_SFdM9-P_l-pn1zdfX4izr_wDYRMBFHu26rNVbk_78UljW9n6paFqELLsS4tys1dETDaCZnorf6d4IWo43lgPcUObesaLY/s1600/03_16_10_FI_141abby+as+nike.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSSZTBU9LZcvi6qaoGWEtkx8O9KtnhnyoUEmFVOnPYWp6W_SFdM9-P_l-pn1zdfX4izr_wDYRMBFHu26rNVbk_78UljW9n6paFqELLsS4tys1dETDaCZnorf6d4IWo43lgPcUObesaLY/s320/03_16_10_FI_141abby+as+nike.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474955206559123618" /></a><br /><br /> Later tomorrow back to Guston morning session, then Sassio to check up on install. Return to edit piece for open studios. Then back to Sassio for opening, maybe Guston after. Just writing this makes me tired.<br /><br />More catchup in days to come. i go to sleep now.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-55581674743380537222010-05-11T14:44:00.001-07:002010-05-11T14:44:30.078-07:00April 27th-catchup NYC-RomeApril 27th, 2010 Manhattan for a while.<br /><br />Home in New York City with my posse, my pals, my friends who can withstand error and contradiction fast talk irony wit. No longer hitchhiking.<br />The weather is wonderful, much like Rome and first night reading Charles Bernstein’s interview with Jay Saunders (who works at Greene naftali) in Bomb (an avant ‘art forum’magazine) where Charles challenges the visual out of its complacency. Take that decriers of rhetoric and ideology. It’s all ideology—otherwise known as “context”, what are you aiming to do.<br /><br />Next day at poetry reading with Rob Fitterman and John Yao at Bowery Poetry Club. If not the most satisfying rhythmically, lots of food for thought and out at dinner after— with poet pals, the reading brought up ideas and challenges. Such a life of mind I love. Out later with Nada to film screening in Brooklyn. Best work documenting radical young (but mentally mature!) group of recent grads, poetish film folk…..? Who were hired by a press to disrupt the press’ own reading and do so with charm wit and playful dexterity. They are into guerilla poetry—to penetrate the ordinary. Lovely, walking home in light rain with a friend.<br /><br />Next day off to Gisburg to work on foleys—sound track for China film which is still not finished (okay okay). Had fun and returned to brunch with friends when who shows up but the very great Julie Patton and her pal musician Chris Jones . We all sit together catch up and return to Chris’s apt with immense view of Thompkins Square Park —whole city laid out afore you. It felt so retro, the 70s, where one could go with the flow in terms of time and afternoons. Finally —we all left to be back at work!<br />Have already swum with my group and will again tonight.<br />More to come; the Biennial, friends, my show at St. Marks Friday night, MoMa and Banksy’s new movie. Yes.<br /><br />Back at ranch of Academy, before I left, I missed discussing aqueduct weekend which was terrific because we were falling among trees and stone through the Italian steep forested slopes. Or wandering through 2000 year old aqueduct with water proof cement lining the walls (at one point over 5 feet high, many miles long—brings water into la Citta), showing years of calcium buildup---little rubble nubbles of stone. Beautiful and fun. Had lunch at monastry at foot of site.<br /><br />Later that week Robert Hammond’s talk notable for Nancy Davenport’s comment about the Academy that it is cross “between Ivory Merchant and the Shining”! <br />Carmela was a bit upset perhaps…? It’s not quite so ghoulish for me but I do feel like a hitchhiker and may still on returning. Appreciating it’s paradisical qualities all the more being in a grittier NY paradise. My home here is quiet quiet and East Village where I live has so little traffic it feels like a Brooklyn outpost. You go towards the center Manhattan island or uptown and it is noisy high paced less liveable. Just where are the rooftops of Rome? Ahhh I miss the vistas and speaking my broken Italian.<br /><br />After Robert’s talk, Wed was Kiel whose figures for the 2000 year old bridge covering the Tevere were beautiful and whose project however laden with rhetoric and ideology is wonderful. I wanted him to design me a home until I realized his box had no plumbing and he pointed out the northeast is hardest to build for because it is wet! Do I want a cement home? His designs would be interesting in any case.<br /><br />Then Ann V. whom I missed some of her talk coming in late (mixing up place and time, mea culpa) but it was lively and as in all her lectures quite present: one line sticks with me : Democracy needs dissent. <br /><br />Then just out of the blue we have a wed that begins with heading down to the Caravaggio exhibit at the Scuderie Quirinale with Jan, a visiting artist and Mary, my inestimable intern. Wonderful cupids, grinning with wings, but otherwise badly lit, crowded and not as many or just as many paintings as Bacon/Caravaggio show earlier in the year at Borghese. I guess I am spoiled. But the day wasn’t over. Late at night an impromptu performance by visiting artist Ivan Ilic of piece by Bach arranged by Brahms, for the left hand. Now that was ecstatic.<br /><br />Next evening before dinner a practiced performance by choir of voices of Palestrina, then putting my show on after our meal : L’Impero Invertito. A friend of Bruce McLure showed up and loves the install work—frescos and the other pieces, enjoys the complication of ideas, what is more ‘difficult’ and will take me to a cocinema (kitchen cinema) group north of the city when I return. That night ends with visit upstairs to see Lucca Nostris photos.<br />aspetto con impazienzaare fare quello in avvenire <br />tutti baci,<br />AbigailAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-50492797829665714762010-04-16T13:48:00.000-07:002010-04-16T14:00:56.495-07:00opening<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2azaG3nh7J1uGpRfKrEVomvkgHJ1U9EpuL2NiObwWbdKBbVlzg0dDhKroSIcS7uAijhcL-DLFMWm-wXc5mhyquCjaLvegRzSRxhi6UV4AgroSxaqMO7BepAL3N7lGiHxUeLfpCoo_UVs/s1600/IMG_6482.aud*jpg.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2azaG3nh7J1uGpRfKrEVomvkgHJ1U9EpuL2NiObwWbdKBbVlzg0dDhKroSIcS7uAijhcL-DLFMWm-wXc5mhyquCjaLvegRzSRxhi6UV4AgroSxaqMO7BepAL3N7lGiHxUeLfpCoo_UVs/s200/IMG_6482.aud*jpg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460841354921990962" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NMSXGN2H7fu86mGiBhvQZVmRbdPpnflHFOhRJTz7Ntaa_AM-_8fLQQgN4Qw4duwWq_QRB0ycC66CX1KdDEYzJzhzcVN_KGYKeOhmme0gTy2ewktaCBz-ZtJ87FDJ0dltGvg7yNPjz04/s1600/IMG_6448audience.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NMSXGN2H7fu86mGiBhvQZVmRbdPpnflHFOhRJTz7Ntaa_AM-_8fLQQgN4Qw4duwWq_QRB0ycC66CX1KdDEYzJzhzcVN_KGYKeOhmme0gTy2ewktaCBz-ZtJ87FDJ0dltGvg7yNPjz04/s200/IMG_6448audience.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460841342743371362" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_WuyAyBt2oIZUDcuMBJUC0-lc2vdlxLsjQHchpSUOBXdPkChyC7CPiye-szA0kB-Y6IVSWxxY-RS-vZKBdoSqlQ6HYUMaOWOAKnnsFy_X7sjy6McWNFylR2-vT_A-6Y5dpGmc7wyI1Y/s1600/IMG_6447turiya.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_WuyAyBt2oIZUDcuMBJUC0-lc2vdlxLsjQHchpSUOBXdPkChyC7CPiye-szA0kB-Y6IVSWxxY-RS-vZKBdoSqlQ6HYUMaOWOAKnnsFy_X7sjy6McWNFylR2-vT_A-6Y5dpGmc7wyI1Y/s200/IMG_6447turiya.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460841343375940370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8I_AeWNZtWMWh0dIk0LW7eMT2Muo43nH0AWEPNA8bWwl9bFTGXst0agqmnrGcGQw-6wWukFXkPfJZynAKJ-RQ-Xk9BZTzTZGyVCJQubMpbw_TrWblOAjavEhxj37SMBis62YKxCU8YJw/s1600/IMG_5877.*stephjpg.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8I_AeWNZtWMWh0dIk0LW7eMT2Muo43nH0AWEPNA8bWwl9bFTGXst0agqmnrGcGQw-6wWukFXkPfJZynAKJ-RQ-Xk9BZTzTZGyVCJQubMpbw_TrWblOAjavEhxj37SMBis62YKxCU8YJw/s200/IMG_5877.*stephjpg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460841333841532322" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCF7oJkSRegCYCyl-B9dKxlAuPSp0gn3uOA8d1nALnRh4E_XeT-ZAptP4CC5wPr1f_xMETJVjFD-mD2PhWRGS9YQWYmePZ7AUeUQ2O-tRzYAAqXwSkH7SubWAbeMh9jKnLdrdhoz8bRPc/s1600/IMG_5859boys+prep+out.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCF7oJkSRegCYCyl-B9dKxlAuPSp0gn3uOA8d1nALnRh4E_XeT-ZAptP4CC5wPr1f_xMETJVjFD-mD2PhWRGS9YQWYmePZ7AUeUQ2O-tRzYAAqXwSkH7SubWAbeMh9jKnLdrdhoz8bRPc/s200/IMG_5859boys+prep+out.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460841327026897810" /></a><br />Here are pictures from the opening, along with preparatory shots: Stefano in basement hanging screen and the two boys Malcolm and Titus covering the skylights in the cortile so the Cryptoporticus was dark all day. <br /><br />I like very much that the piece is in the Cryptoporticus, the basement, above the aqueduct: as if film is bringing back the dead, or it is the doorway to the<br />dead? the depths, the underground, so chthonic (a word i learned in Sicily).<br />The show went very well. A spettacolo spettacolare. <br />Close to 100 persons came the first night. Everyone was very positive: both the previously negative and the always supportive. People had smart things to say in many directions.<br />I liked the show. It was magical with people/shadows moving through the space; the sound was mix of 4 sets of speakers across the long 125 ft hallway and its 75 foot arms;<br />the portraits projected on the brick walls particularly amazing since they became decayed frescos or mosaics, distorted, strange. <br /><br />Slept most of today.<br />OnwardAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-68768784977293215312010-04-15T07:42:00.000-07:002010-04-16T13:48:39.994-07:00April 15th, week of the opening!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydZ_8sp6b4BpW39bSSKSC5aQQXnqQOhT6Mvc44YdcEZow6kpNfhVz25eGJy4I5L9exGPX-xh5OILv99VtQxr4e3OR_lISHzYTcDmLvpJjNQLBaXpMDeI902fNBGj8LFN6DHkkn5vYURE/s1600/IMG_6201.facejpg.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydZ_8sp6b4BpW39bSSKSC5aQQXnqQOhT6Mvc44YdcEZow6kpNfhVz25eGJy4I5L9exGPX-xh5OILv99VtQxr4e3OR_lISHzYTcDmLvpJjNQLBaXpMDeI902fNBGj8LFN6DHkkn5vYURE/s200/IMG_6201.facejpg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460840006028672498" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlppV2F0y-gKmPPldxoXFLzx-FoggdIOxxkPtQR5P-QC3HQFGIvp0dVccKiGRfKuZ663O2GEGblThyphenhyphen5XWcVjMDtLCbMBPU0tKlmijIadiS92hG-ND5D_mMjt4VpTnjY5fEZLs4MXfgTLk/s1600/IMG_6284painting+of+woman.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlppV2F0y-gKmPPldxoXFLzx-FoggdIOxxkPtQR5P-QC3HQFGIvp0dVccKiGRfKuZ663O2GEGblThyphenhyphen5XWcVjMDtLCbMBPU0tKlmijIadiS92hG-ND5D_mMjt4VpTnjY5fEZLs4MXfgTLk/s200/IMG_6284painting+of+woman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460839999856105634" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrzMfVaDgGVxOzY2zivJbAdJnZf-XuKbeJp3DtIK973qt-PbCseLy2hFithiou_JEIBbPPND8QIe6O-XjUc2zv1xulIz-3Dp_FFNWwNIqtjxHWRocyNcEbYQ-d1HqXuyyHY7Twmf1_Kg/s1600/IMG_6265*monastery.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrzMfVaDgGVxOzY2zivJbAdJnZf-XuKbeJp3DtIK973qt-PbCseLy2hFithiou_JEIBbPPND8QIe6O-XjUc2zv1xulIz-3Dp_FFNWwNIqtjxHWRocyNcEbYQ-d1HqXuyyHY7Twmf1_Kg/s200/IMG_6265*monastery.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460839997593969474" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY24gVkLo5WteER3HViyHmBzDco8D-QkQ-hdGmhbPAW-_I926sMzGl1jCGMYPa238aV26UPLmyEB5iFdAHh6SbjOPZxX4hmkLGm7vN_zuM6rTwsj8Nc80tESfpG9FOaGCXpjje28tHn74/s1600/IMG_6091guard.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY24gVkLo5WteER3HViyHmBzDco8D-QkQ-hdGmhbPAW-_I926sMzGl1jCGMYPa238aV26UPLmyEB5iFdAHh6SbjOPZxX4hmkLGm7vN_zuM6rTwsj8Nc80tESfpG9FOaGCXpjje28tHn74/s200/IMG_6091guard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460839993981942818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbg13GQW09UDB_UTXSgvEJHSzvHUeUh2oYj5iICnoBX0iPCGTK8KuPqD7RexNGiRuL8hdQIGF36eXErjW8jxfnnDkk2YDyrfRAqZfksGg_uL6dWL1NUuAZIdkeodsAY3FxB49VVNqkAY/s1600/IMG_6107triangle+house.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbg13GQW09UDB_UTXSgvEJHSzvHUeUh2oYj5iICnoBX0iPCGTK8KuPqD7RexNGiRuL8hdQIGF36eXErjW8jxfnnDkk2YDyrfRAqZfksGg_uL6dWL1NUuAZIdkeodsAY3FxB49VVNqkAY/s200/IMG_6107triangle+house.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460839987474470018" /></a><br />April 15th, 2010<br />Recovering from many trips and install about to open tomorrow, ooops today!<br />Tuesday long bus ride to Palestrina and then Benedictine monastry. In Palestrina best thing was triangular tower house part of the Barberini estate, built at sharp angles like the Aurelian walls here by Villa Sciarra---so that they could fire from two directions. Here the walls are folded upon themselves. Very sharply so the building is a triangle, the inside a hexagonal with three points. Extremely beautiful in decay—a party house for the wealthy in the 16th century, by an architect who shared model makers with architect and sculptor Francesco Borromini. We met the extant Barberini, Elena, who lives next door; it is a working farm, albeit small. Then up the hill to Palestrina, a Renaissance Palace built onto of a Christian church built on top of a Roman mystical site built on to earlier ruins. It commands the valley from the sea east and north to Rome. It was a site commanding travel for centuries and the valley saw the march of the Americans in June 1945 coming up the valley near the close of World War II. Some spectacular Etruscan finds (but mostly they are in Villa Giula back in Rome).<br /><br />We toured, we climbed a bit, we ate lunch, got caught in the rain and back in bus<br />to Benedictine Monastery near Subiaco. The area was conquered by the Romans in 304 BC who built four aqueducts to bring the water of the Anio River to Rome. Later, Nero had the river dammed to form three artificial lakes and built a villa for himself next to them. [I have to look at the cheap Hollywood version entitled “Nero”!] The area was named Sublacus ("below the lakes"), which later became Subiaco.<br /><br />St. Benedict has a largish back story. We were told anecdotes of his life, where fellows tried to poison him and he was saved—thus, a miracle! He was born near Spoleta in 480 AD and went to university in Rome, but was horrified by the immorality in the big city(!). He left for solitude on the forested slopes near Subiaco where a monastery was already established, but Benedict chose to live alone in a cave (the Sacro Speco) for three years, sustained by scraps of food lowered in a basket by his friend Romanus. He frequently fought temptation, famously casting himself naked into thorn bushes to combat lust. What they don’t tell you is he went into the cave with a servant! Ahhh those monks.<br /><br />Benedict was eventually discovered in his cave and invited to become the superior of the nearby monastery of Vicovaro. However, the monks soon found his rule so unpleasantly strict (!) that they tried to poison him, hence the miracle. Benedict returned to his cave, but by then had attracted so many followers that he could no longer pursue the solitary life, and thus organized his first monastic community at Subiaco, housed in part of Nero's old imperial villa. Benedict lived there for 20 years, during which time he founded 12 daughter monasteries and wrote his famous Rule that would become the standard guideline for western monasticism. I don't know this 'rule'?<br /><br />The place is magnificent. Built into hills of stone with beautiful 12th century frescos. There is a fantasy about the place, winding up to it (getting nauseous along route), seeing hills form walls and coves of place, the extant drawings and small intimate scale. Beautiful sudden descents and ascents, steep magnificence, all limestone vistas covered in pale spring leaves. <br /><br />The next day the Foro Italico, a group of buildings to the north founded by Mussolini, masterpieces of 1930s architecture. A sport center, a private gymnasium, a college. <br />All quite disturbing: the past not erased with its slogans “more enemies, more honor”. And the wonderful question brought up by Adrian, ooops Darian, a fellow, re: do you destroy disturbing historical monuments or save and surround with criticality. There is an article about this that uses as an example the Taliban destroying Buddhist statuary—which places the issue in an interesting light. Myself, I would save and create critical commentary around them (as in my films!). Here at Foro Italico, there are empty marble slabs which were to further fascist historical exploits but could look at other empires: roman, Etruscan, garibaldian, communist etc. The elegant fascist piazza is by Luigi Moretti who also did Mussolini’s private gymnasium. The obelisk of solid marble shouts il duce duce il duce and no attempt has been made to erase this. The piazza has mosaics that map the foro and sloganeering and imitate the crowds screaming as well il duce il duce and have fish and lobster circling the beautiful, non functioning spherical marble fountain. Large impressive perspectival and odd actually. A swimming pool is Olympic sized, a stadium rebuilt for more seats for soccer which happens weekly has lost much of its Travertine while the private gymnasium has spared no expense: bookended marble, high ceilings, originally a hanging set of moveable barbells and gymnastic rings. Gorgeous. Also an outdoor stadium type space ringed in gigantic futuristic brutalist statues of athletes—perhaps for marches and dances a la Korean spectacles of more current histories? <br /><br />Do all dictators go for large? Today there was a visit to Shelley’s grave in the protestant cemetery but I could n’t be up for another morning trip no matter how relevant (i will go next week with my sister visiting) as I spent the night late re-working a loop for the seventh screen of my show. The show, mostra, exhibition opens tonight!<br />Wish me luck. Un abbraccio <br />a mi amici<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-9996443494281000262010-04-04T05:42:00.000-07:002010-04-04T05:45:46.998-07:00more Pix from Sicily<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHppbmp5MfHK00wLzaL-IItsUA4KinNuE58gUXbHSdXj_HcLXL_sv4-Kjz0DDThTHOFOuHist1oTutsHRmdaJRTaMrAoOUstgIbLu1YumWLSMfx8w6AHCbqYjgv6Xc0bDhdyCzXfHhJ4/s1600/dreaming+face5232.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHppbmp5MfHK00wLzaL-IItsUA4KinNuE58gUXbHSdXj_HcLXL_sv4-Kjz0DDThTHOFOuHist1oTutsHRmdaJRTaMrAoOUstgIbLu1YumWLSMfx8w6AHCbqYjgv6Xc0bDhdyCzXfHhJ4/s320/dreaming+face5232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456262365044121170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoX4scrdCgK0-hYyANJA7G6tuK0BG9wrWfuAaEcydkf1SuRV0vqOAMenEJREEekAJjnGhv__QyjjBVGKnlauBA9qO2JwFOl0of4KpazasLiyQeqFmdyVtWfdkhpCxY0hkGnybQjdjPsE/s1600/Icarved+woman4783.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoX4scrdCgK0-hYyANJA7G6tuK0BG9wrWfuAaEcydkf1SuRV0vqOAMenEJREEekAJjnGhv__QyjjBVGKnlauBA9qO2JwFOl0of4KpazasLiyQeqFmdyVtWfdkhpCxY0hkGnybQjdjPsE/s320/Icarved+woman4783.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456262351490519074" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3LCOE-ThyPZle0N0OFMG5d922WylTSHmKip2YnOVkkUA5nA4fXUTPgxNvrB73lLGfDLXztRYeFVjG6VHBceGIVzGZR2P7ByxmeaTeG1maFo5WHS_v4T_M3kbLpBeCNyIapiaOgA_Ysk/s1600/mosaic+of+man+in+water4433.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3LCOE-ThyPZle0N0OFMG5d922WylTSHmKip2YnOVkkUA5nA4fXUTPgxNvrB73lLGfDLXztRYeFVjG6VHBceGIVzGZR2P7ByxmeaTeG1maFo5WHS_v4T_M3kbLpBeCNyIapiaOgA_Ysk/s320/mosaic+of+man+in+water4433.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456262344955828754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqIupTndXonzc0lML0QgsEoUuAlMo7MAPFU4YvwnDPLQeeYJ1njro7GhpLtROOr2Fr7v8o8mZFzTE5788pz4Y3FTs5IaEhvIXWqgPA2F1qXEfEl3nLIQqi4GveJIO4EHHQwBHvfha0-s/s1600/wide+buri.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqIupTndXonzc0lML0QgsEoUuAlMo7MAPFU4YvwnDPLQeeYJ1njro7GhpLtROOr2Fr7v8o8mZFzTE5788pz4Y3FTs5IaEhvIXWqgPA2F1qXEfEl3nLIQqi4GveJIO4EHHQwBHvfha0-s/s320/wide+buri.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456262336259839330" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGf8t5COk1mtwKc3gNnK6GC9e2G3POBVABImCNJf4u1FaInrT3TWdyg22Sncav95tJbSRhFQ9j-Q7vXvfKOQyLrVn-udDXwzKyYZuj3X9bhd6JgVML8BrcAahDj9e-aq1zupELredGK8/s1600/women+pt..jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGf8t5COk1mtwKc3gNnK6GC9e2G3POBVABImCNJf4u1FaInrT3TWdyg22Sncav95tJbSRhFQ9j-Q7vXvfKOQyLrVn-udDXwzKyYZuj3X9bhd6JgVML8BrcAahDj9e-aq1zupELredGK8/s320/women+pt..jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456262315215843506" /></a>Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-29658007011003904752010-04-04T05:05:00.001-07:002010-04-04T05:09:42.610-07:00Easter 2010April 4, 2010<br />It’s Easter, la Primavera, the week of Passover conjoined with equinox and increasing of la luce, light. Buona Pasqua to you, mi amici. Last night with friend Lauren S. we went to San Sabina high up on Aventine Hill, a residential sector, elite, mysteriously quiet, music coming from one house only trickling over the star studded sky, black silhouettes of juniper and cedar, baroque walls where Shelley walked, time stopped. We peeked through the keyhole and saw down an avenue of boxwood (?) the Vatican amazingly pointed lit. This is the view in kid’s storybooks and it has indeed a mysterious sense of false front or supernatural vision. Around us the smell of wisteria, it has just bloomed from oddly prehistoric pallid hairy pendulous bobs, midst mostly dark windows and silent streets—everyone is out of town visiting their grandmother! We showed up early, wandered, were about to leave for another church when the priests (20 of them approximately) came out of San Sabina with 140-200 parishioners holding candles. Lauren whispered: let’s get a candle and on the way in we managed to. First there was a beautiful bonfire outside, increasing in scent as it burnt down (incense inside the bundle?) while the priests sang, the young ones Black and Latin, Asian, ‘imported’ for the church (so much for immigration battles). They lit a large candle—4 feet long, 6 inches in diameter from the fire and then carried it in to the darkened church as we all with small tapers lit by each other ‘s flame—look in each eye as light ‘my fire’— followed. The young priests sang in Latin and as we entered in the dark, eventually lights came on at front, the back still in shadow. The older priest put the large candle in a fancy candelabra, bottomed with breasts and twisted to look like (to these secular eyes) pubis or ass atop twisted legs. He began to sing in Latin without microphone—the church tall and of stone, made out of Roman columns (reminding me somewhat of the Sicilian churches incorporating Hellenic columns)—reverberating his bass voice beautifully for a half hour. Magnificent. We stood, then sat, stood, then sat. The mass began with Genesis: let there be light. We tiptoed out and got on the bike to look for an Enoteca, or wine bar.<br /><br />Testaccio was amazingly quiet for Saturday night. One bar completely empty so we peeked at the glass wall fronted on the mountain of clay shards that construct that hill—<br />the discarded remains of thousands upon thousands of amphores: magnificent unintended architecture with intended pipes running through it for air circulation and water drainage. Then on L’s motorino searching for a nice atmosphere, still open. Ended up at Olio e…..?—winebar recommended by Leonard, here at Academy, ate and drank and biked home through Trastevere which unlike the rest of Rome was packed with kids: all those ones escaping church and family or at school here? Trastevere is full of English schools. Beautiful night with the Latin and stars singing out. I am not religious at all but I too can welcome spring. <br /><br />Earlier that day and yesterday the weather has been fabulous: warm in sun, going down in temperature at night. I’ve spent last two mornings waking up at 7am to shoot the staccato ‘clock’ light of the roman shade as the sun has swung now to front of the room—this close to my last chance to get it on the wall. Soon the sun will swing more forward or rather close to the window than when I got here as I approach more than 4 months past equinox of dec 21st. This light has been a kind of calendar; I have shot in fall, winter and now spring. Hoping I got it adequately—its tricky because the light is hot but it is mostly dark in room. As well, I shot film of the spring blossoms in back garden all yesterday having checked on the weather and realized it was to rain Easter and Easter Monday which is a big holiday here: little Easter it’s called— closed up stores and swimming pools. Friday I swam and stopped at Volpetti’s a fancy tiny deli (like NYC’s Dean and Deluca….?) with expensive goodies so I stocked up on a few small cheeses and salami and fancy ravioli and the price was 35Euro. O my---the place was packed. Easter is a big deal and like all of Italy food tops its pleasures. On that end our barbecue has been cancelled today because of rain but I plan an Easter meal with friends at the Academy.<br />Wishing you a glass and much light.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-214640239385172462010-03-31T01:31:00.000-07:002010-03-31T01:34:13.564-07:00photos of sicily<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77iD26HEKoqybr4BUDfYoQMg6LNEughEt1PJEtkVd5ZrJwUObZv4WYMsgyFn9xVFpYA7XcjRBSyCBNYISuHqAFokC7ygfR5TgR6YBTY1_22XaSdaqZHSQe9GYrn6t662mQm5tgxYgBXQ/s1600/nouvelle+fish_4498.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77iD26HEKoqybr4BUDfYoQMg6LNEughEt1PJEtkVd5ZrJwUObZv4WYMsgyFn9xVFpYA7XcjRBSyCBNYISuHqAFokC7ygfR5TgR6YBTY1_22XaSdaqZHSQe9GYrn6t662mQm5tgxYgBXQ/s200/nouvelle+fish_4498.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454713404087831906" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivd7XqElW3SmCq1QqoPLmmhZluSaucuRrsOb98AG7-YLwku3Tk0MUehsRdNHUNIBiywVDkY818X1dTuyHxxdLU95SYNCkxoaiPC5NUQ6D5LcpNLfVok-0zb5StH9cHjkOZDBPWyxXSD5M/s1600/ft_4473.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivd7XqElW3SmCq1QqoPLmmhZluSaucuRrsOb98AG7-YLwku3Tk0MUehsRdNHUNIBiywVDkY818X1dTuyHxxdLU95SYNCkxoaiPC5NUQ6D5LcpNLfVok-0zb5StH9cHjkOZDBPWyxXSD5M/s200/ft_4473.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454713390098884738" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJX2KC4Y8qWVHCMeaMadm0hFZMp0-zFvKfx3HsW612Oe_X30myu1Ti_17Zu5aIWkTteDvRDTDi1P5AJ2Q4Xb0OrpG_xF5aROVHbLmKNNscijsZGkC4SREMHGmcp3hzc6b3gyHx5ABMeg/s1600/ft+of+shame*.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJX2KC4Y8qWVHCMeaMadm0hFZMp0-zFvKfx3HsW612Oe_X30myu1Ti_17Zu5aIWkTteDvRDTDi1P5AJ2Q4Xb0OrpG_xF5aROVHbLmKNNscijsZGkC4SREMHGmcp3hzc6b3gyHx5ABMeg/s200/ft+of+shame*.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454713379755085634" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rCMrgWzbmMtWD3luiutDSHtV1uVMi9zsg2BHcIqSymaPjf5YRmMczm0y059Lttec2wPAQNaAey3OA7PDIZO44MyF9W43u5grA5G-A7d8RQrbP2G4EU_IK6oUlLkkqH_cnhiH9GzY0B8/s1600/palatino+floor.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rCMrgWzbmMtWD3luiutDSHtV1uVMi9zsg2BHcIqSymaPjf5YRmMczm0y059Lttec2wPAQNaAey3OA7PDIZO44MyF9W43u5grA5G-A7d8RQrbP2G4EU_IK6oUlLkkqH_cnhiH9GzY0B8/s200/palatino+floor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454713376386324626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_FILxCHOPq31O_YvmoaYVxLxfkcphk3o_pRX0PPxd64IpUeY1ypuuWGyrKSYwhfL61KU8Zad5nRkU81Ulsa98tPrwPuj_Swm4KkALCEadbYoKpkm5B7po6iYZIn6yhdG6zv-6qEiTgI/s1600/palatino+all.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_FILxCHOPq31O_YvmoaYVxLxfkcphk3o_pRX0PPxd64IpUeY1ypuuWGyrKSYwhfL61KU8Zad5nRkU81Ulsa98tPrwPuj_Swm4KkALCEadbYoKpkm5B7po6iYZIn6yhdG6zv-6qEiTgI/s200/palatino+all.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454713366240941426" /></a>Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-26776979457823623222010-03-30T15:44:00.000-07:002010-03-30T16:12:41.156-07:00Back from Sicily March 29th, 2010March 28, 2010<br /><br />Back from Sicily<br /><br />Unpacking from Sicily--glorious Hellenic Sicily with wildflowers crawling round and up and over temple stones and gorges and hillsides and food food food—. A golden city of yellow sandstone Noto rebuilt after a 17th century earthquake up in the hills, then a white city of marble, Siracusa, by the ocean, then a black lava city with powdered pumice mixed with plaster to make the walls charcoal….this Catatonia by the water as well.<br /><br />Temple after temple after temple---golden Hellenic temples that are more complete here than in Greece. One of our Greek compatriots at the American School (13 of them and 9 of us in a bus!) said if we weren’t speaking Italian, she would think we were in Greece. The temple at Segesta outstanding and the locale by a gorge where some cruel conqueror catapulted 8000 (yes that’s three zeros) men over the cliff. As well: Selinunte, by the beach, a dusty town with great food—the food in Sicily rarely falters. The best olives, best pastry—always light wonderful croissants from the smallest salumeria, fresh fresh marzipan—and fish fish fish. Broiled from the sea in Palermo, sautéed in Catania, crumbled into tomato paste on the best pizza we have ever had in Selinunte.<br /><br />I am digressing and will continue to. Sicily is a mosaic of visions and ideas, history and geography, time compelling maps in our loaded and folded brains. I had not known of Sicily’s crossings of Greek and Carthaginians and native Sicas, then Romans and Arabs and Byzantines and Normans. Palermo lovely, a city bounded by dissonance in time: a Roman fresco inside a gracious ruined palazzo alternating with a Norman church from 1000 years later, in perfect intimate splendor, then another 7oo years for a fountain of Shame, because the white marble statues are mostly nude and shameless. This outside our hotel door. Next door the contemporary museum—an older building redone like many of the museums in Sicily. Very beautiful renovations, sympathetic to the original stone with touches of wood and air. The transformation by Scarpa of the 15th-century Palazzo Abatellis in Palermo as an art museum (1953–54) with Messina’s last painting of the Annunciation—wonderful.<br /><br />Then onto to Monreale outside Palermo, a gigantic church with equally great mosaics (just more of them; I actually preferred the intimacy of the Capella Palatino). The Normans used Arab workers to create these immense visions (comic books?) of bible stories. Later that afternoon we drive dizzyingly up hills to take in Gibellina Vecchia—old Gibellina, which was destroyed in a 1968 earthquake—a continuing facet of these cities’ history. Something like L. A.—great weather and beauty under constant threat of total destruction. We see it from Hellenic temples up to now. There at Gibellina Vecchia, a 20th century sculptor Alberto Burri creates a moving monument to the victims by covering the city in concrete, leaving its streets. Most moving to me is the sheer isolation of the place. Narrow twisting roads that drop off into nothing, one has to wonder on the self sufficiency and (still) separateness of these places. I felt similarly all over Sicily. It is an island, not that large, but the hills and circuitous landscape creates hills and valleys, cul de sacs and precarious urban sitings.<br /><br />A night at Erice on top of a mountain, cold that night, narrow streets and we arrive after dark, leave by 8am and never get to see much—the sadness of these tours! But then we would not have seen what we were led to. That morning to Motya, an island off the coast, a private archaeological retreat with dusty museum and wonderful water, plants, wildflowers large and bloomy, fennel as big as a man, over grown comical and druidic. A burial site where we argue over possibility of human sacrifice. Return across water past salt flats and Dutch-like windmills—where are we? The speed of our travels or the strangeness and variety of Sicily overtake me here. I lose track. A Museo Baglio Anselmi at Marsala (ancient Lilybaeum) where I find book by the brother of Salvatore Giuliano, the bandit of Sicily from WW II and about whom I am giving a ‘report’ about the film of the same name by Francesco Rosi: a fictional doc-like black and white cinematic morally ambivalent chaotic pleasure-palace that predates Battle of Algiers and influenced it. Same co-writers. Gorgeous and funny to see the myth lives on. We spent too long in Marsala I thought but on to the Cave di Cusa quarries near Selinunte: a beautiful spot surrounded by the sea where the columns were quarried 2500 years before (wouldst our b and b were located there!). We see columns that are abandoned for Temple G that we will see the next day. They are mammoth and we also see how quarrying is done. The hunk of rock carved away in a circle until they can cut it at bottom, off its ‘stem’ so to speak, and roll it on out.<br /><br />The drive into Selinunte is through horrific industrial / commercial wasteland, a Route 28 in New Jersey type car ride for Easterners to recognize (or viewers of the Sopranos?) and for us in Sicily we think the Mafia had a hand (buying off permits and permissos). We arrive in Selinunte proper, a dusty town by the sea that next morning proves rich rich in temples: complete ones and gorgeous ones and partial ones and soft ones and hard ones and ones by water and ones by guard walls and and ….. I win the ‘block’ challenge: i.e. can you identify what this piece is and where it comes from? Somehow having listened to Jess the day before I say it’s a triglyph and yes it’s a corner piece. Everyone claps. The best is yet to come: We reach temple G—its columns tumbled in an earthquake. It is as if one has entered a fairy tale, the columns larger than is imaginable: 6 of us cannot encircle one! We are in the land of Jack and the beanstalk. Margaret our fearless leader says perhaps these should be left this way forever. Certo. A scholar here at the Academy tonight (back in Rome) points out that Greece was crowded, hardly room for two farms in each valley, so Sicily was to the Greeks like Texas and they went big, bigger, biggest. There were some Texans at the table tonight! Certo.<br /><br />Fantastic and haunting. Again the power the ambition the hubris and then again the amazement. At Agrigento, below a modern city lining the horizon, between the city and the sea, more temples in the named Valley of Temples. The most startling the mammoth stone bodies in the crushed temple that would have been even bigger than temple G but they are lying down these tumbled hulks that remind one of nothing so much as the Hulk in comic book terms, worn weathered by rain and wind, pieced of stone. The temple of Concord further on which is the most complete we have seen, the most complete greek temple in the world? and quite amazing since it had the interior walls still there. Dark windowless, it houses the statue of the god but seemed to me a treasury of sorts—unsleepable and indeed one of the scholars from Athens Ann said U of Chicago teaches that these are ‘banks’ in effect—i.e. treasury houses. Which seemed so to me but to the religious among us, a no starter. Any way--- to see the construction was interesting and speculative.<br /><br />To quote Corey our leader from the academy: We go on to “the important Hellenistic city of Morgantina—with its excellent associated archaeological museum in an ex-Cappuccin monastery at Aidone. In an amazing coincidence, former AAR Mellon Professor Malcolm Bell (FAAR’70, RAAR’89) of the University of Virginia was on hand at Morgantina to show the group the “House of Ganymede” and the excavations of the Hellenistic baths.” He doesn’t add that Bell won the suit against the Met regarding stolen treasure that has now after nearly 10 years been returned to italy and is in rome this minute about to go back to the museum of morgantina! Coincidences are large.<br /><br />The house of Ganymede presumably has the first mosaic floor. Again I am startled by the darkness, lack of windows. Why would you want to live like that with such light in the surrounds? Morgantina was perfect, a town laying out below. But because of bus considerations we couldn’t stay. A sadness —<br /><br />Made up in part by a specially arranged visit to the mosaics of the Villa Romana del Casale near Piazza Armerina (closed for restoration right now). Fantastic 6000 square feet of mosaics from 300 ad. Hunts and gladiators and rooms of girls exercising. Abstract designs and animal heads and hot baths (used until the middle ages). Gorgeous tremendous and they still don’t know whose it was: the emperor or someone just high in administration? Stunning. We have seen such art of mosaics in Sicily from Hellenistic to this Roman example through the 12th century ones. Stone lasts where paint does not. Enough to make one a sculptor!<br /><br />Then gold town of Noto with its magnificent balconies and elegant food: its yellow piazza and baroque buildings looking down a hill into gorges, rebuilt on a plan after 1693 earthquake leveled the original city. Great food here. “Later that afternoon was the steep climb via Ferla to the remote archaeological area of Pantalica, with its thousands of Sicel rock-cut tombs in the walls of a limestone gorge.” Here no one can figure how people lived and indeed Ann V. who is a classicist from BU who is charming as well as her husband Richard, asks (as do I) how people survive in Ferla: i.e. what is the economic basis here in this land of isolation and wind. Pantalica, I can only think it was used either solely for ritual practices/times for burying the dead or perhaps living there with fields in the low fertile lands below. We begin to see Mt. Etna as we come down the hills, it is covered with snow a kind of Mt Fuji hazy in distance, its feet disappearing in clouds which Stephen insists are fumes and they are not.<br /><br />Siracusa next, a city of white marble. Beautiful by the water with an antique, old city on an island Ortygia with a land bridge. Great food again and easy to walk around to visit the Temple of Apollo—presumably the earliest, mostly foundations but with a great strange large long inscription, the Duomo with its baroque columns next to Greek ones reusing the Temple of Athena. The Palazzo Bellormo gallery with its Messina —another beauty and a room of earlier paintings, again magnificently restored. In the New City or Mainland, there was the immense Archaeological Museum ‘Paolo Orsi’, and the Archaeological Park with its ancient quarry-prisons--- 10 times human height where the Siracusans starved the losing Athenians prisoners in a place called Dionysus’ Ear (check out pix to see how accurate is that name ). A wonderful theater preparing for Euripides in June where my friend Lyndy attended two years ago and said the play starts in the afternoon and goes till dusk, at end the hero walks out into open air, when they let out birds to fly against the charcoaling sky. Gorgeous sounding. I will come back.<br /><br />The olives, the pastry, the happiness!<br /><br />On the last day we go into Catania airport to drop off some and rather than wait for the plane 4 hours later, we take a slow crowded bus into the city expecting nothing and find a city of black! It is near Mt. Etna and so lava lines its piazzas and black pumice is ground and mixed with plaster. The walls then are black, grey, charcoal against white marble. Magnificent. The fish market the biggest in Sicily so Stephen and I have our last big fish meal. Totally tasty and head back in traffic to the airport.<br /><br />Ahhhh: I remember the wildflowers, the wind the jumping among the stones, the first mosaic Norman church the food. A great trip. Takes one away from yourself (identity disappears) and so much input and then on my return turned to my new film for install and lo and behold I worked hard and resolved/solved it over the weekend. So much for an hiatus to clarify the mind. It is looking quite fine, poignant rhythmic, fitting itself into place with a sweetness. Called “l'impero invertito" ("hacking empire" in English but it doesn't translate to Italian well, so inverting empire). Now to make it happen with 5 projectors, one wall screen and two monitors. Yes and more and yes and yes.<br /><br />It is primavera here on our return—all the plum trees in bloom, that iris by the casa rustica still going strong (genes of iron)— and my worry about the out of focus film from march 14 shoot for THE PURSUIT just before we left is alleviated with a visit to the lab Monday, Fotocinema. Not so out of focus actually, mostly fine and the lighting fantastic and the acting perfect and yes I can use so that releases quite a lot of tension since my “natives are restless” and can’t do too much more. Celebrate your b roll (i.e. the secondary footage which can often be the most fun and satisfying any-way ) but as there is no synchronous sound, it’s as if all the film is b roll, so perhaps this is my c roll. My energy is up. I will shoot more film and take camera back to NYC for check up. No one in Rome knows the Beaulieu (camera) it seems which is crazy since its from Switzerland and should be easily repaired in neighboring lands but hey —<br /><br />This blog reminds me of nothing so much as what Kit Robinson says in a recent Grand Piano group autobiography: to make “a book mark in time.” I too in camp at 11 or 12 or 13 one summer said I will remember this and walked on stone path and indeed if I don’t remember every stone I remember the instant. Such is the mix of intent and brain, memory arc to past that exists in present and sings to us…..images of listening before off to bed.<br /><br />Ciao mi amici!Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-27163018536207140032010-03-10T15:28:00.000-08:002010-03-10T15:43:46.542-08:00March 10th, Roma<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BXDrF9aeXsjNENU4tlLfcF3oMKtS1HsOkrhaU7H58fjuzpUqcqNUVM_eaZg5oI5Q5ysNfdsmB-3rUi7Pqf3RaR_w5o5-yArxkl_dbwcK_32dAiK2wp71T9WcZc3znGlw9YIjDqE7Lzc/s1600-h/IMG_3351.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BXDrF9aeXsjNENU4tlLfcF3oMKtS1HsOkrhaU7H58fjuzpUqcqNUVM_eaZg5oI5Q5ysNfdsmB-3rUi7Pqf3RaR_w5o5-yArxkl_dbwcK_32dAiK2wp71T9WcZc3znGlw9YIjDqE7Lzc/s200/IMG_3351.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447151605141273170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcDE7aaL1BQY_xgiCknPmHQnQFBXivdeA0FfH_Lz_jyS8lEJ9dEyULNcKlJCnL4rS85mW-h4I4EXXV2CELIuC2-Pq8SfTqh836ETQgXR-9POH_vgKgatafc9szD85LIZNFVAc0s9p-AA/s1600-h/IMG_3349.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcDE7aaL1BQY_xgiCknPmHQnQFBXivdeA0FfH_Lz_jyS8lEJ9dEyULNcKlJCnL4rS85mW-h4I4EXXV2CELIuC2-Pq8SfTqh836ETQgXR-9POH_vgKgatafc9szD85LIZNFVAc0s9p-AA/s200/IMG_3349.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447151603629691074" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQkwyRlbVhhM-x1wcp8xBM9XycTOhjrlw_bSMZtny2QoCOzhupdVGl1a1pedydOJKTBc-6bS4D8eYTFxkFIfaQbN2xfQLA-1_RPHB_2xRp96ls2PeVvzzDd4LCOFGS_8HiclDqBFzXXM/s1600-h/IMG_3335.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQkwyRlbVhhM-x1wcp8xBM9XycTOhjrlw_bSMZtny2QoCOzhupdVGl1a1pedydOJKTBc-6bS4D8eYTFxkFIfaQbN2xfQLA-1_RPHB_2xRp96ls2PeVvzzDd4LCOFGS_8HiclDqBFzXXM/s200/IMG_3335.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447151596386786418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI8-FHtNa7v76H9124l5TXo21SvPf1Ai8l_rhYF1SIP2EtxYdKeJFOYqqFiVFexuCGJEwkwLAffshG-gAiLfHu2he8nAC440U_wGOv1aUv_VtKTSm17hm_CFEzLMBNOZP9MBPIm84VVk/s1600-h/IMG_3319.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI8-FHtNa7v76H9124l5TXo21SvPf1Ai8l_rhYF1SIP2EtxYdKeJFOYqqFiVFexuCGJEwkwLAffshG-gAiLfHu2he8nAC440U_wGOv1aUv_VtKTSm17hm_CFEzLMBNOZP9MBPIm84VVk/s200/IMG_3319.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447151593522909378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LG0YIy9f16hyphenhyphenQbRZ0Ws3UE4dtJf9j2UDwMlNRBhXOI4Jd1YSsUIlE7Ho6kCxRodp-pXpKP9eoA8h6Q-VsYoGfgVzyofZztbUCUgRHK8TejIOHXX9Pphq-rw_CJyZilha_elFuUHNQcU/s1600-h/IMG_3307.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LG0YIy9f16hyphenhyphenQbRZ0Ws3UE4dtJf9j2UDwMlNRBhXOI4Jd1YSsUIlE7Ho6kCxRodp-pXpKP9eoA8h6Q-VsYoGfgVzyofZztbUCUgRHK8TejIOHXX9Pphq-rw_CJyZilha_elFuUHNQcU/s200/IMG_3307.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447151582786173346" border="0" /></a><br />March 10, 2010<br /><br />A quickie as I have been working for an install upcoming April 15. It would not be such a crush but I shot third week in February, then went to Egypt, two and half weeks back to get draft of 20 minutes of two films (usually could take me a year for that long a duration!) and then off to Sicily for 10 days next Wednesday, return with three weeks to open. Ahhhh making me a bit crazy though hard to complain with such wonderful travel upcoming.<br /><br />Luckily (in terms of work load perhaps?) the weather has returned to winter, 50 degrees and rain, then sun, then a rainbow, then rain. Cooler at night. But the flowering trees are everywhere. The gardener in me says—this just means a longer spring.<br /><br />However Robert Hammond and I are determined to swim in Sicily so Sun please do come on!<br /><br />Sunday last we went to the country to bio-farmer who is one of the suppliers for the Academy. Took van down with the kitchen crew. Advantage of waking early and there we are in a valley, ugly town but spectacular location ringed with snowy mountains, lemons and oranges hanging heavily from trees, acid yellow mimosa in bloom and yellow mustard in fields. The yellow saturating my eyes still.<br /><br />Great food predictably. By the third course we thought we were done but the main was still to come. They wanted to marry me off to the 33 year old son. Quite handsome, a bit grey and guess they hadn’t really suspected my age. All the cooks are in their twenties or so, looked too young for him I guess [though too young for Italy is an oxymoron for sure]. Stuffed and happy with the clean air and warm family, we came home in Sunday traffic . A very Roman adventure.<br /><br />The day before we spent the day looking at art : a show of American photographer Stephen Shore in our local Trastevere museum. Walked down with several fellows including visiting artist Luca Nostri who is an Italian photographer (friend of Tim Davis), who was wonderful in front of photos explaining and historicizing each print. Turns out my colleague at Sarah Lawrence, Joel Sternfeld had written an article about one of the prints on view—illuminating. Then joined in the afternoon my Canadian friends Adair and Ross for visits to the Barberini and the Contemporary museum in the Borghese park. It was Giorno di Donna and you are to give blossoms of mimosa—in season—to women, and all state and national museums had free admission for "our fair sex". Yes!<br /><br />The Barberini had a great Tintoretto and Holbein portraits, a Bernini Medusa to die for (or was that in the Capitoline from last week?; i think all these pictures are.] and of course the famous Raphael of his mistress —set within the splendor of the villa. The contemporary Museum was a crazy space with dark painted walls on first floor and crowded with stuff—mostly unknown ( to me) Italians. Early Balla and then late futurist Balla were interesting to see the enormous changes and the beautiful canvases of his futurist work. Some of the Manet influenced work was also lovely and a little piece I will look up the name of a back of a green truck on a highway, named "autobahn at night", gorgeous, geometric, fluid brush strokes, humorous, quotidienne, graphic—most modern thing there, painted in 50s. Who is this guy?! Radical clear vision. Upstairs a women’s show with cast of characters I am mostly familiar with but wonderful wonderful Cindy Sherman work from before Movie Stills that I had never seen. Little self portraits against her loft wall with photo release wire showing (as in much of her work) and plaster seam of wall as she enacted bus passengers: girls, boys, black, white, old young, men women. Wonderful. Amazingly clever but also good hearted. The illusion was incomplete and then complete. Her sense of humor foregrounded and particularly welcome in a show dominated by melodrama and ideology. We finished by visiting the elegant museum café with fresh grapefruit juice=spremuta di pompelmo compressa fresca. squisito<br /><br />Bused back which was cold waiting. Italian public transport always speculative.<br /><br />Academy Shop Talks keep happening: Jon Calame on the Roma, the gypsies, was interesting, shotgun facts and painful photos. Tomorrow is Stephen Westfall’s. He has painted the walls of the gallery 40x40 x40 feet with tile patterns. Lots of students helping but it is a gigantic task.<br /><br />Me—I’m going a more modest route. Right now I need a name for the show that will be installed in the cryptoporticus: “Adjustments to Empire” or “Adjustments in Empire”…something a bit more catchy perhaps? Suggestions welcome.<br /><br />Last night watched Nuovo Cinema Paradiso for my Sicilian ‘report’ we are all required to talk about something during our trip. I had avoided this film when it came out thinking it would be horribly sentimental but it is anti-nostalgic actually, asking that you leave home, forget your mother, do not go back where everything stays the same. Quite beautiful, sentimental in the most serious way and found footage at end touched my heart (as it was supposed to). All the pieces that the local priest had cut out: of couples kissing, sexual, sensual! Wonderful.<br /><br />On that note, un abbraccio a mi amici. Più al mio ritorno dalla Sicilia.<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-17316725709955953972010-02-27T07:39:00.000-08:002010-02-27T08:51:22.163-08:00february 27th EGYPT!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxK29Guk1iCPT96eW19FEn75EMMEy1hXBZ1oxtRT0eMLvF0ToWW48BENW37a9Z-59NDAUwJ9G3Ij2UpVaF7vZ2_4EJ5izS1UhmAwh637CgZALG9hyR6-SCNBdgHBEJdSfTfj3WZLRQpXg/s1600-h/IMG_3796*desert.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxK29Guk1iCPT96eW19FEn75EMMEy1hXBZ1oxtRT0eMLvF0ToWW48BENW37a9Z-59NDAUwJ9G3Ij2UpVaF7vZ2_4EJ5izS1UhmAwh637CgZALG9hyR6-SCNBdgHBEJdSfTfj3WZLRQpXg/s200/IMG_3796*desert.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442965424708836258" border="0"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0R0jvkQEnJwOxp2w2CI_fhA2KuZlkqFLxwJyk6fsdOg4V5KDOhlcwmw9rSb5tfUz9i4PcI0YzZ_4hPvAEpcsVQ9pTwHHBWOg-vqykWV0Da0vDZS0JUAdiVQP2tUIvMd-NOw88Ss2VfY/s1600-h/IMG_3754*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0R0jvkQEnJwOxp2w2CI_fhA2KuZlkqFLxwJyk6fsdOg4V5KDOhlcwmw9rSb5tfUz9i4PcI0YzZ_4hPvAEpcsVQ9pTwHHBWOg-vqykWV0Da0vDZS0JUAdiVQP2tUIvMd-NOw88Ss2VfY/s200/IMG_3754*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442966077962496402" border="0"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />February 27th, 2010<br /><br />I have been to Egypt this week.<br /><br />The pyramids at Saqqara are still in my head. The step pyramid is from 4000-4500 years ago. You enter the area through a small opening in a 20 foot outer wall of refined yellow limestone---looking like alabaster—and enter a Hall of Columns—3 feet in diameter, 25 feet high.<br />We turn to each other, smiling and exclaim in startled whispers: <font style="font-style: italic;"> the beginning of classical civilization. </font> Set amidst desert, camels on horizon, sand in distance as far as one can see, the wall with stepped top encloses public ceremonial spaces. The yellow stone reflects the sun —golden. Saqqara is one of the most extensive archaeological sites in Egypt, the cemetery for Memphis, its ancient capital. Very beautiful, sere, powerful and yet of humane scale.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWtBPwgDfea-LUiesiGUCXI_emWo9t94oXqMqyYowWvI4vDl8xR-jEiPN8b2cgOyJUDiO_vQNAb6H-lUJtnif3EZwiS1Qxnx8emC41rgptOrCzUgDwCXhwnwimlsTTiWrJdRfsX_2g7Y/s1600-h/IMG_3800**.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWtBPwgDfea-LUiesiGUCXI_emWo9t94oXqMqyYowWvI4vDl8xR-jEiPN8b2cgOyJUDiO_vQNAb6H-lUJtnif3EZwiS1Qxnx8emC41rgptOrCzUgDwCXhwnwimlsTTiWrJdRfsX_2g7Y/s200/IMG_3800**.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442965423450316162" border="0"></a><br /><br />The Giza Pyramids across the river are a less meditative experience, crawling with tourists, neighboring the city of Cairo itself, another kind of a-maze-ment. As if down 23rd Street in NYC there was a building 3500 years old! We enter the second one with smooth limestone still covering its top: down a 4 foot cubic tunnel for 60 feet, then stand for air, then down another. To reach at bottom a rectangular bare room: 25 feet high perhaps 30 by 80 feet. A claustrophobic hike, to feel the stone above you.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBywndkrC1CeHnwbyb3F2uybhSN6hWipRWO6njcJUBS44HOrQEfsLnqrS4AI9JFqcNDfAdgyuDy8k1EL0I01LaqH-mKyZXKVM91xsZUcmkNqk3jSBSedoOIUeIGa63d82diUe-yeTFjSQ/s1600-h/IMG_3533trick+on+giza.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBywndkrC1CeHnwbyb3F2uybhSN6hWipRWO6njcJUBS44HOrQEfsLnqrS4AI9JFqcNDfAdgyuDy8k1EL0I01LaqH-mKyZXKVM91xsZUcmkNqk3jSBSedoOIUeIGa63d82diUe-yeTFjSQ/s200/IMG_3533trick+on+giza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442966068761998178" border="0"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dDFDP0TJMS4jvD-HsSa1_Cy41IWWvWXs4UZf_tMe6QIxmHNhpjKWK5WqLe0_03Ens6T0kvvk7qfhQcMgwqz6U_IaO_SSr0zNBF41zVrZXFPu1zZfZMS2RMBi_NNwDQDkYLT1vDKQV8g/s1600-h/IMG_3608*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dDFDP0TJMS4jvD-HsSa1_Cy41IWWvWXs4UZf_tMe6QIxmHNhpjKWK5WqLe0_03Ens6T0kvvk7qfhQcMgwqz6U_IaO_SSr0zNBF41zVrZXFPu1zZfZMS2RMBi_NNwDQDkYLT1vDKQV8g/s200/IMG_3608*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442966063557465314" border="0"></a><br />Other wonders include the road to Memphis, lined with shops and people selling or carrying fruits and vegetables, sunny, slow, pacific—part of the agricultural outskirts of modern Cairo. Perhaps predictably in this landscape of ash and sand, people wear wonderful colors and designs, paint their trucks fabulously and their stores, Arabic script itself a decorative element. In the museum at Memphis, the pharaoh lies on his back (his leg broken) with smiling powerful face, 35 feet long, rounded lips, beautiful.<br /><br />The Egyptian museum in downtown Cairo itself a wonder—its size perhaps a bit smaller than the Washington National Gallery or the Prado...? Impossible to do in a day but you know what you have missed and can go back. What I learn is that Egyptian art is not flat—the supposition of the frescos not withstanding. I gasp at the wooden statue known as the Village Headman or Mayor, "Sheikh-el-Beled"; 4000-4500 years old. When it was excavated the workmen assisting in the excavation work fell back in astonishment as the statue was an absolute portrait of their own mayor! In wood, in 3 dimensions, fully carved, even the back rounded, particular, the face a person, uneven ears, eyes of agate, alive, rotund, bellied—this is a citizen. An Egyptian type that in spite of many invasions has survived in the Nile Valley. In the same room, a scribe, legs crossed, back leans forward. The beauty, the intimacy ,the individualism of these portraits. I am in awe and admiration. It will take another 3500-4000 years to reach this degree of sculpted reality again.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbDarcK7KRJxxZ4yZG0N89Ib6ohgCbO8yV2N7vOWw9HOOW-fTze_u2HZMEDwibAgYJjvGsSlAZ0zQBhNgpHnutl-pd5-_lx1nlxDdvuzB57EXR_bUTN5bF5dYU6NA17H1ZjWgHrVJJ9g/s1600-h/IMG_3640*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbDarcK7KRJxxZ4yZG0N89Ib6ohgCbO8yV2N7vOWw9HOOW-fTze_u2HZMEDwibAgYJjvGsSlAZ0zQBhNgpHnutl-pd5-_lx1nlxDdvuzB57EXR_bUTN5bF5dYU6NA17H1ZjWgHrVJJ9g/s200/IMG_3640*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442966074634059538" border="0"></a><br /><br />Whereas the larger portraits of the kings and queens portray “serene majesty and youth” the portraits of the anonymous achieve another feeling entire. They make a relationship to our time, and of passage through time. Similarly, the ‘mummy room’ where, despite our B movie connotations, conveys awe of both terror and wonder. The kings are laid out chronologically, some are sons and one sees relation in the heads, the foreheads. The majesty of Seti, his beauty and fine features; Ramses with his long white hair, gone yellow with the fluids used to embalm him.<br /><br />That these bodies are mirrors of ourselves from so many inconceivable years ago—there is both an underlining of our current contemporary ‘humanness’ and a sense of passage, that we live and die. We are both made large, part of the human dream of excellence and beauty, and laid low: time will bury us. That doubling is part of the intense beauty of these sculptures, and these bodies, these ‘things’. [I learn the Italian word for junk=roba. Molta roba]. Odd even so (no?) that bodies, mummies, are placed inside museums. We become art in death. Or is it museums are houses of the dead? As in Cairo, cemeteries are called ‘cities of the dead’.<font style="font-style: italic;"> Is art then an identification with the dead?</font> I always thought it was a celebration of the living, but perhaps no. Perhaps not so much a way to ‘beat’ time but to last in time? To extend into time, an aspiration of <font style="font-style: italic;">being with time changing, immortal, dead and not dead</font>. <font style="font-style: italic;">To exist into the future</font>. Our genetic thrust made manifest.<br /><br />Too, the fresco paintings of geese resemble nothing so much as the Roman frescos from 2000 to 2500 years later. So much for a history of flatness!<br /><br />Earlier that day we go to an Islamic mosque, the Citadel and then Coptic Church and Jewish Synagogue: all <font style="font-style: italic;">people of the book</font>, as Mohammed described. The first sight of the Citadel is overwhelming: wood painted ceiling, multiple lights in multiple glass bulbs, pattern everywhere, glorious blues and greens and gold. The Coptic church seemed to relate to the orthodox Greek and Russian churches in their art, particularly the paintings which decorate the walls—ikon-like with a celebration of St. George killing the dragon alternating with Madonnas. These themes I found common in Russia.<br /><br />The synagogue beautiful and not unlike an Islamic mosque —decorated with arches and patterns. Was it first a church? First a temple? It has a history as it has a basement that flooded earlier in the last few decades and thus, reminded me of St. Clement—house of worship built on house of worship built on….<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7yksfkVEfzw0q-Rbn_T07ZClr09-dM5oUKnFUo2bLWx_il9UutYyUXPInQ0WNCWP9Mtl8HHG0zHlTsiJdUqX6gAeakQB2S2mkhuf4hhXYvUuAFp1jmEVKopGqtaBEcR6p3qN3BNeVsg/s1600-h/IMG_4083market*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7yksfkVEfzw0q-Rbn_T07ZClr09-dM5oUKnFUo2bLWx_il9UutYyUXPInQ0WNCWP9Mtl8HHG0zHlTsiJdUqX6gAeakQB2S2mkhuf4hhXYvUuAFp1jmEVKopGqtaBEcR6p3qN3BNeVsg/s200/IMG_4083market*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442965415487124562" border="0"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeV9XhJSZZmLeJVcg65r9b_PUUpF1T28vaQVZcNeYhootNOisrp4LaRMd_8Wm_crYbpRJ5qyRRqnin7p2W_baTHTZyUi-B8nkzeQZzSvfSSShA4wBVIx-fcmbhoLHYvb5Qo5-M-8vy2M/s1600-h/IMG_4104market*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeV9XhJSZZmLeJVcg65r9b_PUUpF1T28vaQVZcNeYhootNOisrp4LaRMd_8Wm_crYbpRJ5qyRRqnin7p2W_baTHTZyUi-B8nkzeQZzSvfSSShA4wBVIx-fcmbhoLHYvb5Qo5-M-8vy2M/s200/IMG_4104market*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442965411801113010" border="0"></a><br /><br />Thursday we walked to Nomad, a store that had the best scarves we saw anywhere and then without a guide (yes!) took taxi to Bazaar. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0cfxzvIKVF5k5GlNMEeNIMYD8acPxnmYL6x3JhqavA4Ft2AEIUR6BkAgouhIxKVzanBJkvrOVreyAncwvDX4EyYAmiesSic4wZ5DWWjDiBK7RycOTeJcJOrvQoSWR6MPm4ePB2aMfJo/s1600-h/IMG_4100um+k.*.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0cfxzvIKVF5k5GlNMEeNIMYD8acPxnmYL6x3JhqavA4Ft2AEIUR6BkAgouhIxKVzanBJkvrOVreyAncwvDX4EyYAmiesSic4wZ5DWWjDiBK7RycOTeJcJOrvQoSWR6MPm4ePB2aMfJo/s200/IMG_4100um+k.*.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442965408105511218" border="0"></a>Very easy, walked through Egyptian part of bazaar, catching someone to show us the place (or did they ‘catch’ us?), not seeing another tourist which was refreshing. In very muddy streets (it had rained in the night) with women shopping in various degrees of veil, mostly male vendors. We see many interesting buildings, 'learned' by Kathryn regarding the sects of Islam that settled and fought over Egypt: Sunni and Shiite so absolutely relevant to the contemporary politic. Among us, we had a painter, a photographer/ filmmaker, a classicist and an islamicist —so we could fill in information at different times in different ways— prismatic. We got on well—each with our particularities of time and interests and appetite.<br /><br />The bazaar itself was easy, lots of predictable tourist stuff plus some wonderful jewelry, metal antiques and belly dancing costumes for sale. Lauren practices this art and bought a professional outfit dripping with rhinestones plus head and arm bands! Gorgeous and while waiting for her to be ‘fitted’ we watched a chase through the market—someone had tried to rob another. A bit later, we watched him caught and marched back! <font style="font-style: italic;">As if</font> a show put on for us. All the Egyptians store owners watching alongside. Then coffee at a 300 year old coffee house; early dinner at fabulous place with— well—truth to tell, the best bathroom we found in Egypt! We all wanted to live there. Coming out it started to hail! Snow in Rome first time in 25 years last week and now hail in Cairo. We bring ....extremes I guess. Rained for an hour or more—again, all the Bazaar owners enjoying the weather with amazement and wonder. We cab home to our island hotel on Zamalek (very nice area with cleaner air than lots of Cairo).<br /><br />Next day picking up odds and ends as we headed to airport and slow flight home.<br /><br />It was an intense week before leaving in that I worked shooting Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday plus Saturday morning. Thursday I took off and went to Tim Davis’s opening where none of his photos showed up (courtesy of Italian post!) —so we hung out, talked to Tim, looked at the group show. A great photo of Cairo at dusk with competing light of blue electricity and yellow daylight: TV satellite dishes dotting the landscape, suggesting pasted-in-circles—<font style="font-style: italic;">as if </font>unreal as in an Andreas Gursky-like digital artificial montage. Thus, a full circle: from photo of Cairo to experiencing it firsthand.<br /><br />I’ve been to Africa!<br /><br />Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-37604689358550869232010-02-16T14:04:00.000-08:002010-02-16T14:20:13.679-08:00snow and blossoms feb 16, 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloFfcFJON7-RhOIC1GzIf8tyz-mm2DEv3bKX8XHwgHCchZtL3kBlgKJGZ9JjpwmOTm6ej6ZQTLUxnLZOIP5MiX36tFRNvQlMjtJF4Ia7UHb4w31aV36222MhaneivZJmteC8lGvzMQSg/s1600-h/IMG_3243_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloFfcFJON7-RhOIC1GzIf8tyz-mm2DEv3bKX8XHwgHCchZtL3kBlgKJGZ9JjpwmOTm6ej6ZQTLUxnLZOIP5MiX36tFRNvQlMjtJF4Ia7UHb4w31aV36222MhaneivZJmteC8lGvzMQSg/s200/IMG_3243_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966647550592642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oQbeyfmqJQdRuA7OHcijWPgpt3RzvXdocSHAwmGWVmQY7oSCLeaPPQYJds80rdmDBKop2-YrA5F7TwyuOWI1ClPArqNZMgIri_lSnJ2m0a9EHut47Z9XJ28x5hX_flQTp4qeborTr2A/s1600-h/IMG_2806almond+cu.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oQbeyfmqJQdRuA7OHcijWPgpt3RzvXdocSHAwmGWVmQY7oSCLeaPPQYJds80rdmDBKop2-YrA5F7TwyuOWI1ClPArqNZMgIri_lSnJ2m0a9EHut47Z9XJ28x5hX_flQTp4qeborTr2A/s200/IMG_2806almond+cu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966362861893618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw50nspIjOh79k0n8_UdpRlXos6r0I86A_ltJmez4ZgScE_cdxLgkUETuveSbhafaYCAy0tLlzGDedL_msprx10HgWIku4m9D3AN8sVkMGisjz3DhN8569KA9Hqgm_pX7hW79XGQNV_ow/s1600-h/Villa+Sciarra+overview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw50nspIjOh79k0n8_UdpRlXos6r0I86A_ltJmez4ZgScE_cdxLgkUETuveSbhafaYCAy0tLlzGDedL_msprx10HgWIku4m9D3AN8sVkMGisjz3DhN8569KA9Hqgm_pX7hW79XGQNV_ow/s200/Villa+Sciarra+overview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966644545057810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />February 16, 2010<br /><br />What fortuity is Rome! As I turn I find. I am walking up the steps of the Academy and run into the new cook and his amazing girlfriend Lydia who mixes cocktails professionally and is a stylist. What do I need but a stylist who will do hair and makeup for my install?: EMPIRES’ FALL.<br /><br />She is wonderful—upbeat, talented, responsible, and we have been working all week on this. So far 20 people have signed up: women and children becoming empresses and Triumphators—a reversal of power. I will include some of the pictures from the shoot. Fun fun fun. Seriously.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfAVrQBrpn761sQg96oFxlWkEAlzufAotd5MENFfiRrveluEon9EWe9UVvdknq2O81mCbmbQTz8iSs3Pi1Hwp89yEAOw5s-FObSN94VxphbdJ5ScoXUErfGMVRbGrCLF1AwZIrKHpbcQ/s1600-h/IMG_2838.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfAVrQBrpn761sQg96oFxlWkEAlzufAotd5MENFfiRrveluEon9EWe9UVvdknq2O81mCbmbQTz8iSs3Pi1Hwp89yEAOw5s-FObSN94VxphbdJ5ScoXUErfGMVRbGrCLF1AwZIrKHpbcQ/s200/IMG_2838.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966342234821042" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQd98QcRUaxuVJFV6B55It5S5Y8xx8HYZnU2_3nMQsEnDTkmVXxOKdoaWOK5YS8qvVcTo8ljivIErNok7UpAPEkR5Zt0R6bzAcUl_fG4GnQ1fH0Vin5Rz7JKMU3vpdfHSV4U6z2AgzX7A/s1600-h/IMG_2875_2lydia+install.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQd98QcRUaxuVJFV6B55It5S5Y8xx8HYZnU2_3nMQsEnDTkmVXxOKdoaWOK5YS8qvVcTo8ljivIErNok7UpAPEkR5Zt0R6bzAcUl_fG4GnQ1fH0Vin5Rz7JKMU3vpdfHSV4U6z2AgzX7A/s200/IMG_2875_2lydia+install.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966345927864018" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZlfN-AOADYod1ctVnwsxZSMqJMm80Mb6NSkQCVWN4rKSZmU9kAoGU7SR7DwsAp9mZCr2dVem3x5pd5JMCOGqMolkcF4nPfhOqghjl3S3TF-Wm7KeFWxxW-oKoYn5CMuKDsW3LfSMbSs/s1600-h/L1040815.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZlfN-AOADYod1ctVnwsxZSMqJMm80Mb6NSkQCVWN4rKSZmU9kAoGU7SR7DwsAp9mZCr2dVem3x5pd5JMCOGqMolkcF4nPfhOqghjl3S3TF-Wm7KeFWxxW-oKoYn5CMuKDsW3LfSMbSs/s200/L1040815.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966351744493090" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Last week Thursday Leonard Baskin’s lecture on taste. Saper to Sapienze; taste to wisdom. Very witty and compelling and as always (sempre) the food here has been marvelous. Leonard looked at New Testament’s Mary and Martha story where Martha the cook is considered beneath Mary, the listener (at Jesus’ feet!) —such degradation of work to mind (and passive mind at that). However, painters from Renaissance on who use the story emphasize food, the sensual, taste, even as Jesus retreats into a small window within the larger painting.<br /><br />Friday we go the exhibition hall for big Calder exhibit. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2J_xDlfIbNvRV4S-5l2kPOpMkXAUdifyUPn2PspZl5mJMXyRHccuAGZrj-YTZaviM-yFGNfyEGpqUfmpTFg8HPs8r6syTEDgXF_XD8n8hDZWYX3ebfiJ8NbOxFi_3OelbWQMa9ILg5s/s1600-h/IMG_2796calder.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2J_xDlfIbNvRV4S-5l2kPOpMkXAUdifyUPn2PspZl5mJMXyRHccuAGZrj-YTZaviM-yFGNfyEGpqUfmpTFg8HPs8r6syTEDgXF_XD8n8hDZWYX3ebfiJ8NbOxFi_3OelbWQMa9ILg5s/s200/IMG_2796calder.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966361689072514" border="0" /></a>Quite spectacular and led by Calder’s grand nephew who was wonderful —sympathetic and knowledgeable about the art. Seeing the early work was particularly rewarding: Calder’s paintings and early mobiles are sound sculptures in part, not as sophisticated as Len Lye’s perhaps but interesting original ambitions. Then his middle work masterpieces complete with gorgeous Miro-inflected gouaches. My second time at the show and more worthwhile. Also simply traveling around is a wonder always—continuing to learn about Rome and its neighborhoods. It is becoming familiar. Saturday was slow day---work. Which was good because<br /><br />Sunday Valentine’s day was crazy fun digression. Went to Porto Portense early to pick up makeup and hair stuff for my install shoots. Then off to Chris Burden ‘dialogue’ at Maxxi which is new Zaha Hadid building for contemporary art. A piece of sculpture in itself—large, inspiring, curved walls, magnificent use of material, open turned inside out, strangely empty as they have not ‘officially opened’ the museum yet….lovely. Empty as it is now—it has another kind of power. Burden was surprisingly wonderful as well…funny, smart, the work which I know fairly well—witty and strong. Nancy D. called it “jackass art”---indeed, where he drops i-beams from the air into concrete. The ooos and ahhhs— sound, power, explosions. His Metropolis erector set pieces equally provoking and boyish and post modern.<br /><br />Then out to lunch with Nancy and Robert Hammond. Divine caccio pepe<br /><br />Yoga on return (there are now 5 free classes a week; I can hardly get to swim! Not complaining) and that evening we are to cook for Stephen. I to make fabulous frisse salad and steamed artichokes with lemon which I did make but dear Lydia invited me to eat with kitchen staff so there were ten of us at dinner with Mona the master chef cooking up a storm: a 7 course meal alone in the dining room candlelight and all. First caccio pepe (so I had to have a taste again…!) , then an amazing fried lemon platter—strange and fabulous. Then my salad and artichokes. Then pork loin, slightly pink with broccoli rabe, then dessert crème with lady fingers. Stuffed and happy and Lauren had made Hello Kitty valentines for everyone at the table! Very nice. Ooops forgot aperitifs by divine Lydia and wine on the table. Happy happy happy.<br /><br />Monday: Daniel Mendelssohn’s talk. I could relate to his sense of loss, fragment---but my high point that day was the first shoot of the install earlier that day — women and children—everything went swimmingly.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpGxb6M3UpF35m_X0BaTsjuQH4ea_ei0bXV5B870wxFBTukA4c69DeLnv23bES292WgZ0ugVHe6PF6yg4ZdICi9kPrvZMwjn4I4ZD9TDHCMRiuWgpiHi42rCwAowci9hLAuObInCI0v8/s1600-h/IMG_2804lemon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpGxb6M3UpF35m_X0BaTsjuQH4ea_ei0bXV5B870wxFBTukA4c69DeLnv23bES292WgZ0ugVHe6PF6yg4ZdICi9kPrvZMwjn4I4ZD9TDHCMRiuWgpiHi42rCwAowci9hLAuObInCI0v8/s200/IMG_2804lemon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438966656495547298" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfAVrQBrpn761sQg96oFxlWkEAlzufAotd5MENFfiRrveluEon9EWe9UVvdknq2O81mCbmbQTz8iSs3Pi1Hwp89yEAOw5s-FObSN94VxphbdJ5ScoXUErfGMVRbGrCLF1AwZIrKHpbcQ/s1600-h/IMG_2838.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZlfN-AOADYod1ctVnwsxZSMqJMm80Mb6NSkQCVWN4rKSZmU9kAoGU7SR7DwsAp9mZCr2dVem3x5pd5JMCOGqMolkcF4nPfhOqghjl3S3TF-Wm7KeFWxxW-oKoYn5CMuKDsW3LfSMbSs/s1600-h/L1040815.jpg"></a><br />O —and there was a flowering almond in the back yard on Monday as we were cutting laurel for the 'crowns'. And and how could I forget!? SNOW just last Friday. Yes it snowed for the first time in 25 years in Rome. Please look at the lush pictures. I filmed in the Villa Sciarra: snow on palm trees. That was/is the wildness of this place--- extremes of weather, sudden snow. While now its raining and raining and raining. But we are happy. Indeed. Our moment is now.Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-26745910165753700652010-02-11T05:19:00.000-08:002010-02-11T05:38:58.178-08:00Spring is coming!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZ4XOtWR1Ot8K8RgnABJ57fREeA7ZhndO8iFlFEgU2XCkCho45j0xM-xhEGyf2AcEwuf_InqNsytBKBR9LZMH2dMh2k4UdXkzaAdotV5pzVHtV5GxUqUcOnjdZ9XkcQbNhLYNSxnWbE/s1600-h/IMG_2582winter+bass+garden.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZ4XOtWR1Ot8K8RgnABJ57fREeA7ZhndO8iFlFEgU2XCkCho45j0xM-xhEGyf2AcEwuf_InqNsytBKBR9LZMH2dMh2k4UdXkzaAdotV5pzVHtV5GxUqUcOnjdZ9XkcQbNhLYNSxnWbE/s200/IMG_2582winter+bass+garden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977191424311442" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0_2KoY28M48ME9XuKSQdpf3XMfqX662YVcteQg5490y-uVQCOqCWw6SV-K31bcncsJREJutHO2qteoK_3FUWxD1Z_GuqmmQEXR6MUMx_MU8bhfARumv6bvXqe9CKSPbW_fQ8JULEaj0/s1600-h/IMG_2586iris.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0_2KoY28M48ME9XuKSQdpf3XMfqX662YVcteQg5490y-uVQCOqCWw6SV-K31bcncsJREJutHO2qteoK_3FUWxD1Z_GuqmmQEXR6MUMx_MU8bhfARumv6bvXqe9CKSPbW_fQ8JULEaj0/s200/IMG_2586iris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977194703368498" border="0" /></a><br />February 7th<br />dear friends,<br />a busy busy week and a half<br />To catch up:<br />Wednesday night January 27th we attend Arvo Part concert at the Rienzo Piano hall. The music was magnificent —stopped time. Early work was my favorite but perhaps just as I own much of it on cd, so that it has become a known habit? The new work attempting larger more ambitious interstices moving away some from his eastern influences, from Russian orthodox vocalizing. So interesting to hear his minimalism coming from another direction than the American minimalist composers of the 20th century (Glass, Reich, Riley). Instead of conceptual radical gestures, these are spiritual gestures—not unlike, on thinking of it, the radical Malevich paintings of white and black from the early 20th century. In St. Petersburg, on entering the Russian museum, are dual portraits of saints larger than life size by the famous painter Andrei Roublev, their robes black and white rectangles approximating the size of the Malevich’s canvases. Goes far to explaining both M’s choice and his turn to religious themes later in life. I own three Suetin drawings from the 1920s that likewise look like Bauhaus color studies but the forms he is using are the Russian cross (!). So much for secular modernism.<br /><br />On the unreligious front, we had the next day a talk by Lauren on Trophys: sharp witty clipped presentation enunciating their difference—on occasion, a sign of territorial expansion; on another, driving home the fear of the imperial conquerer.<br /><br />Friday a walk with Corey on the Campus Martius, covering the Theater of Pompey, the Campo de’Fiori, the Chiesa Nuova, San Giovanni Battista dei Fiorentini and its Museum to end a the Oratorio del Gonfalone. Too many churches have shuttered through my brain but the sculpture of the girl warrier, very Joan of Arcish by Michaelangelo <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEdGVcZ_OILL7ljnTNYdeM-lJ46Dg4Mrlpg9mo6EOjTx5T3aJdWjJrQEdnS_iOvsVrkBFjLTHdeagPv6Erax7qTmMoK9b_9VvfXdoBpoLCpSoeKwGbOMvJcjY-W4VeNOmuRZcjt9UacQ/s1600-h/IMG_2654bernini+statue+or+mich.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEdGVcZ_OILL7ljnTNYdeM-lJ46Dg4Mrlpg9mo6EOjTx5T3aJdWjJrQEdnS_iOvsVrkBFjLTHdeagPv6Erax7qTmMoK9b_9VvfXdoBpoLCpSoeKwGbOMvJcjY-W4VeNOmuRZcjt9UacQ/s200/IMG_2654bernini+statue+or+mich.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977198337957154" border="0" /></a>early in his career sticks as do the strange paintings all over the Oratorio—now used for music choirs (maybe always?) and the pillars drawn there, which Bernini copied when he did his very odd terrific columns for the Vatican.<br /><br />Meanwhile a discovery an hour or so away from Rome of extant aqueduct that 1800 years ago brought fresh water to Trastevere and leads under the Academy in the basement! Hmmmm does this mean I need to put a river through my install? which will open mid April in the basement. Maybe. On that end, Michael Lee my intern from Cornell and I today came up with a possible title: EMPIRES’ FALL. It works I think and as I am hoping to put China film on wide screen TV on steps leading down to the Cryptoporticus itself (the magnificent arched basement here), it makes sense. Two empires, two catapulting transitions. We shall see. Hoping to shoot part of it next week.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Tv0txReZaGSu3E1OAYvE8WN_jBNjuVNqZdRtgSpeKuZeqBmnfRQ-FWF7u0JF82517IIjO6797iPBbOSkhi6M-ms6mdpumKtsXEiQOfQXXjlXXBLCa8PhDs3gI0necT8y44sTmqh53u0/s1600-h/IMG_2753wall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Tv0txReZaGSu3E1OAYvE8WN_jBNjuVNqZdRtgSpeKuZeqBmnfRQ-FWF7u0JF82517IIjO6797iPBbOSkhi6M-ms6mdpumKtsXEiQOfQXXjlXXBLCa8PhDs3gI0necT8y44sTmqh53u0/s200/IMG_2753wall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436979595861545938" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3KaTBZvW5LvIbtDNdf28N-Ju9-UjFLsH06I1GbnHp2I9Z4c-o7dJsbgGmhfdjDEZlknydqBH3oapCMbrKuiBeaVRR25Lo7BJYmjSEd-fDxjajtakHEQwn0nALfSbfBwvWdceT_lSz0k/s1600-h/IMG_2754towall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3KaTBZvW5LvIbtDNdf28N-Ju9-UjFLsH06I1GbnHp2I9Z4c-o7dJsbgGmhfdjDEZlknydqBH3oapCMbrKuiBeaVRR25Lo7BJYmjSEd-fDxjajtakHEQwn0nALfSbfBwvWdceT_lSz0k/s200/IMG_2754towall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436979597275600146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then Yael Bitton came from Paris. Funny she arrived Tuesday hands wide saying ooops I have a cold. And I too! So two of us sniffling, correcting, perfecting <span style="font-style: italic;">RIDING THE TIGER: Letters from Capitalist China. </span>We really did wonderful work, got close, worked very hard. Now struggling with MORE techne, this time the omf sending—sound to you citizens.<br /><br />We also got to go into town and see the Andrea Pozzo and the Pantheon. I include pictures from the Pozzo, a trompe l’oeil magnificence. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8De3Rhkgge-QET6CTRHv_lWIKqYTCFGYlPwxUsuz3pTMFAIBjYDlq1QoSjwRJwD3DqVo7-DmXKQlRSTGcn7YYOWJRqK4fXXUzgyvYj92AoCBKibZop_K6XKx8X5pq06-tfPJe4Viv1K4/s1600-h/IMG_2748andrea+pozzo+a..jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8De3Rhkgge-QET6CTRHv_lWIKqYTCFGYlPwxUsuz3pTMFAIBjYDlq1QoSjwRJwD3DqVo7-DmXKQlRSTGcn7YYOWJRqK4fXXUzgyvYj92AoCBKibZop_K6XKx8X5pq06-tfPJe4Viv1K4/s200/IMG_2748andrea+pozzo+a..jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977207988259586" border="0" /></a> The pictures will wow you I am certain. Yael left and I was sad. Yael’s wisdom as person and editor was in high thrust this <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNp_yxDRyJDxmsUGPEbZ86qyyHVaKGkD-mb4xt3Mfi8hxwtaiW4gPhlYyM10NR2er6Tt0p3PrGvD0fOHZmUW_xppVu1-GCeRf8LKQhodiUPgOt4TyvY785dXghAT4BHP39sIXt5R-gfI/s1600-h/IMG_2749pozzob.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNp_yxDRyJDxmsUGPEbZ86qyyHVaKGkD-mb4xt3Mfi8hxwtaiW4gPhlYyM10NR2er6Tt0p3PrGvD0fOHZmUW_xppVu1-GCeRf8LKQhodiUPgOt4TyvY785dXghAT4BHP39sIXt5R-gfI/s200/IMG_2749pozzob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977208811555762" border="0" /></a>trip. Really delightful.<br />Sad to see her leave. Back to my role as ‘hitchhiker’ ie a bit of a stranger with no context. I mentioned same to Nancy at Roma’s opening Friday night and surprise—she felt the same. It was good to hear it. She opined that because I am working so hard I muse be adjusted but of course I am not completely. Missing you all my deep amici! Just to let you know. Send back your love.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJtWbpF8X1HllT2SG2Ka5iW6Phf91OvSc0zp_HbfBvRj6rkEuoHDCRCMCODCEWnDiZplho1omjHiUJEKu8HghnQSDNH06RxOtHl1_VuBogAEN4eCLr9Vgz5lz9obGkiiXY9PCZX_K2ow/s1600-h/IMG_2751pozzo+cherub+a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJtWbpF8X1HllT2SG2Ka5iW6Phf91OvSc0zp_HbfBvRj6rkEuoHDCRCMCODCEWnDiZplho1omjHiUJEKu8HghnQSDNH06RxOtHl1_VuBogAEN4eCLr9Vgz5lz9obGkiiXY9PCZX_K2ow/s200/IMG_2751pozzo+cherub+a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977633286980034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbI2TiB0b-_dKbL3vcGPYWWUGubMPA5d3csDNfrIIIhyx3yAnFaF29yUPZ-q4F3h9CciUZHHtlIf4CsStqL1CtMy5bgHyfYDMNwn0lMR7iliQhQh2BYJFp0fcB7t6JjW9EIiseVbANIg/s1600-h/IMG_2752cherubb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbI2TiB0b-_dKbL3vcGPYWWUGubMPA5d3csDNfrIIIhyx3yAnFaF29yUPZ-q4F3h9CciUZHHtlIf4CsStqL1CtMy5bgHyfYDMNwn0lMR7iliQhQh2BYJFp0fcB7t6JjW9EIiseVbANIg/s200/IMG_2752cherubb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436977626246503138" border="0" /></a><br />Meanwhile Friday afternoon did the big shoot of Diodati. Will put in photos later when receive courtesy of Nicholas who played an excellent Dr. Polidori. Tremendous push on mine and Mary’s part to get everything together. It did rain, which I wanted but made the light hard. We kept closing in to the window---but of course my focal plane was collapsed (when you open for the light, you get less depth of field. Film #101). Eileen did wonderful, sad thoughtful struggling with her Frankenstein bourning inside her (burning?), pushing back Dr. Polidori with a smile—very light. Best work she has done I feel. Aurelia distant and then light, seducing Byron. Richard as Byron, always very lordy! even with his iphone in view (ooops), Nick great in his crazed scene running from the room! I hold my breath and hope it worked. Just watched the video which is terrific. The villa is an excellent space and the fellows/actors do a great job occupying it. Now—to double check that the video can be used WITH the film altogether. I haven’t had time yet to edit and try that out, but this shoot and Mary’s skill building, makes me want to. Yea! We see this Friday hopefully…..<br /><br />That evening Roma Pas, the Dutch artist opened. She handled the space well: two large rooms with very high ceilings. She worked her witty conceptual pieces into comments on Rome—her name the place: sycamore trees became stone columns, picture frames became a pyramid, clay became marble. So —transformations through material and shape. Good work.<br /><br />Saturday afternoon was deep crazy massage with Bulgarian who announced as I lay down that Spartacus came from Bulgaria! I didn’t quite know what to make of that. He was rough tough and good. My body transformed. Then Stephen Westfall rescued me from work at 8pm to go out to dinner with him at Le Mani en Pasta, with risd friend Holly Hughes the painter (not the performer) and her husband who does exhibition curating at NYU. Very nice energetic folk and the meal was spectacular: mussels and clams (vongole), octopus appetizer, then spaghetti a la mare with green gnocchi. Topped by fragile (wild) strawberries and tiramasu. Incredible tastes and relatively cheap! 25E each for such a fine meal. Light in the stomach/ perfect on the tongue.<br /><br />Sunday was quiet; sun came out. Michele showed up from Cinecitta (a student) with Saree for my birthday from David D. Gorgeous--felt so ...well like a butterfly actually.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1x6CigEUpskxg-m4YDvaa82dA9MMIhWkV6v4zU2-_01u0ojersWEd9RO6Nc2YxzgOuMoNAfpUhcZQK7CgkvF8JZM4jFqtgbRAU5BXTHtyWe6GeX-wtbbALJ5kridTkTnpJjIVIiJrx8c/s1600-h/IMG_2775me+in+saree.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1x6CigEUpskxg-m4YDvaa82dA9MMIhWkV6v4zU2-_01u0ojersWEd9RO6Nc2YxzgOuMoNAfpUhcZQK7CgkvF8JZM4jFqtgbRAU5BXTHtyWe6GeX-wtbbALJ5kridTkTnpJjIVIiJrx8c/s200/IMG_2775me+in+saree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436979588911989986" border="0" /></a> I am going to get Asha here to teach me how to wrap. amazing purple gold colors. then we went to cocktail hour and Michele did fine. He is very social; trying to get me to lecture to Cinecitta students (it is the national film school); he was very struck with THE PURSUIT and the improvisatory, 'fresh' he kept saying way in which i shoot and react. He also spoke of a retrospective at the National Film Cinematheque here—so that would be wonderful as well. It would be great to 'seed' the system.<br /><br />Speaking of systems, I keep watching the WIRE which gets sadder and sadder. They have moved into the schools and everyone has such a hard time. Funny collapsed dialogue and true to life setting. A crippling critique of United States’ democracy from every angle: the young, the police, the politicians. And now when Obama is being attacked by all; just read this morning that wall streeters are giving money to Republicans—of course what could we expect?— I feel so sad. So obvious the need. So little the response. We live in a world where humanity is crippled; its constantly only for ME and not for ALL. I asked earlier and it still holds: <span style="font-style: italic;">who will make the addition?</span>Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-69148573640302434922010-01-26T09:36:00.000-08:002010-01-26T09:51:10.887-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3WJ3OIPx44nCb1rPbPneCGsUq_MHoniXVcxdejqsmBtiqfSK4rwUIGuQ-3YkpZhjzZgJ-pNgS-gQz2bSr1ofITgEvfFiWxzVdC-0kcU9tjy5a-lUyZam08A81EGie8na90RAZ7UuAao/s1600-h/IMG_2320.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI3WJ3OIPx44nCb1rPbPneCGsUq_MHoniXVcxdejqsmBtiqfSK4rwUIGuQ-3YkpZhjzZgJ-pNgS-gQz2bSr1ofITgEvfFiWxzVdC-0kcU9tjy5a-lUyZam08A81EGie8na90RAZ7UuAao/s200/IMG_2320.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431104337738085826" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >I haven't included many photos in last two posts <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> since i have been occupied "making" motion pictures so intensely. Here now are some from recent travels: Sophocles watching us—so skeptical, a cupid balanced fancifully on architectural fabulism, a statue guarding the Tevere River while swallows in the sky elude my camera. The last, a detail from a magnificent st. George and the Dragon painting at the Vatican. You have to guess the painter....All haunting images marking my soul with their line and color. </span>Un divertimento</span></a> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">mi amici</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpNgjsSnVwEmWnjWHWlCa0Bq-c9j06H-3q6LVCOsGyqsj8cR63fxq7RBp1CWFYQ3nRQmJ4mRiN4jLf-RAw1L1-GdbL3RzsDONTN2Fac1ZhfAGWrHeNdwTaQ4m2SaBRUlEewmrfX43HZk/s1600-h/IMG_2381.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpNgjsSnVwEmWnjWHWlCa0Bq-c9j06H-3q6LVCOsGyqsj8cR63fxq7RBp1CWFYQ3nRQmJ4mRiN4jLf-RAw1L1-GdbL3RzsDONTN2Fac1ZhfAGWrHeNdwTaQ4m2SaBRUlEewmrfX43HZk/s200/IMG_2381.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431104332724397746" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAAN5ORsQSaB93FKWPjZhZh5yb65JM0b-boJcTgsTv0cURYo-dgaBZ-xw_5iwVIwIW0jOS_v4v6LMg_Xf0CLpbZ7igLatrlhhyjbiDqfiD5v3JHieIc1lwIGk7rmr00odcWW9ejO4wdQ/s1600-h/IMG_2559.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAAN5ORsQSaB93FKWPjZhZh5yb65JM0b-boJcTgsTv0cURYo-dgaBZ-xw_5iwVIwIW0jOS_v4v6LMg_Xf0CLpbZ7igLatrlhhyjbiDqfiD5v3JHieIc1lwIGk7rmr00odcWW9ejO4wdQ/s200/IMG_2559.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431104327308870914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H44gb4qn9gyRLxVQR-VAwb3IP6jPXfMq5QFHg67TB2Ber8yQRFZy5iMzqZsuMubpLW9jwxR7nicOCORLaBEDwOtHvvdBiovz9FdLLuKzBbzblojl78vih4Q4EE8G1Nr8VOLAjR0iJJU/s1600-h/IMG_2045.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H44gb4qn9gyRLxVQR-VAwb3IP6jPXfMq5QFHg67TB2Ber8yQRFZy5iMzqZsuMubpLW9jwxR7nicOCORLaBEDwOtHvvdBiovz9FdLLuKzBbzblojl78vih4Q4EE8G1Nr8VOLAjR0iJJU/s200/IMG_2045.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431104318374874802" border="0" /></a>Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-61686871658533351582010-01-26T06:59:00.000-08:002010-01-26T07:17:18.381-08:00January 25th, 2010-- rain and musicJanuary 25th, 2010<br /><br />Another movie week in diverse ways. Seeing <span style="font-style: italic;">AVATAR</span>—great blue people with predictably racist fundamentals: white boy saves ‘natives’. But lots of fun and wonderful minutes when flower flora move off the screen, magically holo-morphed in front of you back in the 14th row. It was crowded, went with Nicolas and Meena, two affiliated Fellows. Walked through city on sunny day, Nicolas showing us special places, throughways and byways, stopped for coffee on return---still jumping over tree roots free-handed in the tropic fogs of Navi land and Carpenter's undersea-influenced imagination.<br /><br />Working on<span style="font-style: italic;"> RIDING THE TIGER</span>, mailing out a new version with three voices. Yael comes from Paris next week to help—hopefully solve remaining issues as my professional consultant. So and now back to <span style="font-style: italic;">THE PURSUIT</span>. Other fellows here are writing on Byron; the Villa Aurelia is available and ready for use. We shot a wonderfully lush sexy bed scene Monday in my bedroom with light-sprinkled, staccato, drifted/imprinted on the bed, wall, linens—having 'Mary' (Eileen) and 'Claire'(Aurelia) roll over 'Shelley' (Nick) —and roll in on over him again. The TV camera was going the whole time so got some lovely rising up to the camera and circling back as well. I hope the film looks as magical as it looked shooting. The whole first reel was more over lit---diffuse light of morning pouring in. Then the sun moved round to angle through the shades and it became visual porous ambiguous exciting!<br /><br />Weather has turned. It is rain, drear, not as cold as NYC in winter but wearing my heaviest turtleneck sweater —the one I would be wearing in Nova Scotia. Even for yoga we wear lots of clothes till 10 minutes in when we finally warm up. There's been 4 free classes a week here, two teachers, both quite different from each other. IT's a regular dojo [though that can't be the correct name; more an Aikido name...]<br /><br />Nono, the 20th century avantgarde composer festival was last week. At the French Academy with its hyper realistic l7th century tapestry copies—in which colonialism is celebrated (!) in bold colors: continents represented by flora and fauna of their areas: lions and tigers and parakeets and fishes and peacocks spreading their tails. Lisa B., our erstwhile Fellow sings to recorded tape of voices, noises, urban crowding—out of the holocaust, the people’s cries. Another all recorded piece, again voices, dissonant, classical dissonance, I felt. The last the most marvelous to me, seemed more to the future —Lisa concurred saying it was the most recent work of Nono from the 80s (the other pieces from the 60s as I might have guessed). This last, a tuba player—big beautiful santa claus figure blowing tones, strong, soft, an Asian quality to it, very subtle modulations of tone. With gorgeous score---bars across a long double page; bottom half with drawings and arrows. Post post modern. Interpretation of text seemed as Zorn’s in ways-here are 'head lines', but with perhaps more directions as to time. Lisa concurred again.<br /><br />Then the following night back at the Villa Aurelia, we heard PMCE—Parco della Musica Contemporanea Ensemble perform a fantastic piece by Lou Harrison (1917-2003), <span style="font-style: italic;">Song of Quetzalcoatl</span> for four percussionists (1941). Very Californian, obvious influence for Reich and Riley, tonal, danceable, wonderful! Then a set of short pieces by Eliot Carter, from early to 2009 (that to my dyslexic mind kept being 1999—how can he be composing this wonderful stuff at 100?!). Loved the latest <span style="font-style: italic;">Tintinnabulation</span>, another percussion piece to bookend the concert. The group was wonderful, the instruments sculptural to look at, Carter continuously “elbowy” to my mind: cerebral in his choice towards dissonance and the unexpected. I felt close to him aesthetically, even when I was uncomfortable within his sounds—amazed actually at his public success—for this is difficult music (at least in these selections). Notes chosen for assertiveness (one might say aggressive qualities), for oddity (one might say precarious), thoughtful and fierce—the result a kind of strong beauty. They say he wrote some of his most famous work in his 70s (the 80s decade) here at the Academy: that his 70s are his ‘mid-period’. Now that’s what I would like my 70s to be so considered!<br /><br />To music then and the muse of mastery!<br /><br />This week there is an Arvo Part festival on—so we are off to the Auditorium Parco della Musica designed by Renzo Piano. We have been there before with its fabulous mushroomy silhouettes and spectacular cafes. For now—<br />A presto<br />AbbyAbigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1478370110779441293.post-38437972880737556062010-01-19T02:59:00.000-08:002010-02-11T05:18:18.647-08:00January 19, 2010 Movie WeekJanuary 19th, 2010<br /><br />This has been movie week. John Guare has showed up with many films that might be nominated for Academy Awards upcoming. Mostly they are not my cup of tea but good to see <span style="font-style: italic;">Hurt Locker </span>for sure. I am hoping it wins best film in terms of public political attention to a useless and mismanaged war —though the film’s close, with sentimental music appearing “out of the blue (non-diegetic: no better word here) accompanying pathetic dialogue, would be better cut.<br /><br />Almodovar’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Broken Embraces </span>was also fun: too long, awkwardly heterosexual, but wonderful to look at as always, a bit crazy and fabulously cinematic: film within film within film. Chinese boxes galore. Saw <span style="font-style: italic;">Up In The Air</span> as well which was interestingly on ‘time’ in its referencing downsizing and firing, but cold, thin and ultimately, saying ‘wife and kids = family = key to happiness!? Wouldst indeed Hollywood was the Liberal bastion it’s made out to be. Instead the subtext is more often deeply profoundly conservative.<br /><br />I’ve been watching the <span style="font-style: italic;">Wire</span> at nights since David came for Christmas/ New Years (as obsessive as I, we would look at two shows a night!). A Fellow has all four seasons (so it takes a while). Touching, sad and true, it seems to me who has worked (and walked) urban streets. Back in the 70s I was reporting for NBC news, director-producer. The city was much tougher then and the South Bronx in the mid 70s was un-policeable. Fire trucks wouldn’t go down streets, just parked at the end and let the building burn. Because of my early documentary <span style="font-style: italic;">GAME</span> on a street prostitute and her pimp, I was assigned to cover street gangs. It was eye-opening to say the least; I took out time in the month of August before the gig for (unpaid) research. Black and Puerto Rican gangs; fabulous colors; filthy streets; beyond inhabitable ‘pads’; kids who had seen their father’s throat slit; disturbed kids who would slit your throat on a dare. Don Byron was growing up close by a bit north of where I was working. Frightening and super sad: I felt one-third of these children (and they were children) were going to go to jail, one-third would be dead before 21 and the last third might escape. It was my moment to have a gun cocked at my head, but in my innocence I was not frightened. Why we send 18 year olds to war. <br /><br />Anyway—the <span style="font-style: italic;">Wire</span> is long form television so fun to see ala l9th century novels. The kind that is in parts (to sell and keep you reading/viewing) and goes on and on and on and on. The sublimation of the real in the model. But yet, ultimately it is TV, and what do I mean by that? A box, a sizing, always dialogue, not enough visual surprises, plot and event twisting—great acting, truthful neorealism…..yet, maybe…. not enough poetry? That it ends for the <span style="font-style: italic;">next</span> show. That it is slotted. That it takes it’s form. The <span style="font-style: italic;">wire </span>is great within this form. No question about it. But it makes me understand more deeply perhaps why the time-artists of the late 60s and 70s, seizing on the tv speeding increasingly form-u-liz-ing moment(s) of our communal screen, make expanded durational pieces, that sprawl ambitiously and out of control throughout the culture landscape: whether Morton Feldman or Ken Jacobs or Michael Snow or Lamont Young. A kind of why not? But also take that.<br /><br />What do we need now: Our face to the mirror? Our face in sand? Our face to the other? Our face to the ground? Sending money to Haiti is essential —but I want to destabilize the infrastructure, remake it —so a Haiti-as-is doesn’t happen in the future. As my friends write, Haiti is not a <span style="font-style: italic;">natural</span> disaster. And the bankers and brokers remain insufferably inhumane, their violence covert, their actions radiating death rays out on the streets into our cities. <span style="font-style: italic;">Who will make the addition?</span><br />Abigail Childhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07703131572983000052noreply@blogger.com0