Themed Thursday: The Pitch

THEMED THURSDAY!!!!

I hope you got yourself pumped up for this-because I did. So I've been talking a lot about writing with slam camp and all. But here, Michelle and I have concocted a different sort of writing for this blog-off spectacular. It all started from this obsession we have with Mad Men. That means advertising, and that means a pitch (no, not the baseball kind... or for you extra stringent feminists out there- softball). So that's what we're doing. We're pitching you a pencil. The regular kind. You know, the one you learned to write with and then had to have in your pencil box all through elementary school? The familiar, sunshiny yellow friend that got you through handwriting books and in class assignments.  Those were the good old days. So here goes, I'm pitching and you're catching. Play ball!


There are a variety of ways we can take this-art work wise in the very least, and this mantra has the capability of branching from print to film with out another thought. In it's simplest form, the slogan is the thing.  The sheer imagination inherent in the product itself. This is the tool for any child, any person to draw, create, write, imagine, and enjoy. There is nothing new or remarkable, but this is the product of the American dream.  Simple tools to achieve great things. And the Yellow #2 Pencil is the thing to do it with. And all #2 Pencils have 35 miles worth of creativity. "Where will that write you?"

So although I'm by no means the best on the art team, I'm doing my best in dealing with the budget cuts. So please excuse the artwork until I lure someone more artistic than I back into the studio. I'm working with the simple tools supplied to me.

And that, concludes today. Boom.

More Rothko? Ok.

"The ideal teacher in charge of the creative art activity must possess a twofold equipment. First, in common with every teacher he has the insight and training to evaluate the character, background and potentialities of the child; his very presence and manner create an atmosphere of ease and confidence; and he shares the general idea of social adjustment of the educational process of which this activity is a part.  Secondly, and this is really the important qualification in this study, he must possess the sensibility of an artist. Art must be to him a language of lucid speech inducing the understanding and exaltation which art properly inspires. It is the artist teacher who has fulfilled that role with the most frequent success. Because art is his own best mode of expression, and because of his intimate relationship with it and its methods, both in his own expression and that of other artists both past and present, he is likely to have developed that sensibility to a higher degree than others whose only contact with art is from the point of view of the observer." --Mark Rothko

Incase you needed more Rothko, BAM. Wish granted. 

Now I would like you to do a little exercise with me, think about your favorite teachers. The professors in college, the teachers you had in high school, the coaches, the leaders, the ones that inspired you, the ones that made the difference in your life. 

I've thought of mine. I hope you did.

And if you so desire, you should write them a little note. Facebook them. Email them. Tell them if you have them in class the next day. They are phenomenal, and you should tell them. 

Like a boss. 

Oh for the love of Rothko

Someday, I want to be Simon Schama. Where I can say things like this, "The blaring horns of mustard-colored cabs, screeching cell phones- and those screaming into them bury the pulsating, meditative hum emanating from the sequence of paintings hung from the facades of buildings covered in a thin film of city exhaust." in a British accent and not be looked at like I'm crazy. 


Speaking of Simon, I had forgotten about baby Schama who shows up in the Rothko one. Heavens, just the best. Oh, and he cooks? Yeah, that's ideal.  That's basically what I want to do with my life. Speak in a British accent about art. 


I suppose that applies to Sister Wendy too.....  But it's a life choice. 


In later news, choir auditions were good (now I can go hug a frickin' tree!--shout out to Paige) Then some Linus: funny as per usual.  It was good to have a hearty laugh in the midst of Stressville, MN.  Shortly followed by the ever classy Midnight Express where you stuff yourself to plumb full and call it a day. 


And now that I've caught you up on my entire life, (It's the most depressing when nothing has happened and it's a really short post and then I say something expansive like, my entire life, and it was encapsulated in under 300 words.) I am hitting the books again and trying not to get distracted with art theories and intelligent British men spouting snapshots of art history.


Wish me luck!




 

In Memoriam.

And here you thought it could just be a laughing day. LIES. 

Almost immediately after finishing my blog post earlier today, I found out that one of my teachers from high school passed away. Mr. Robert Demeritt was a brilliant man who had too much knowledge for one short, jaunty man. He was a true inspiration for the students he taught, all the while dressed up in a bow tie. Although I only had him as a scheduled teacher for a semester, the impact that he has had on the lives around me and the lessons he taught through the way he lived his life are pervasive. From the ability to speak seriously-but not too seriously, to always leading with a smile, to never losing the ability to dance, these true life lessons make the biggest difference in nearly all situations.  I'm proud to be his student, and I know I will remember him fondly many years from now. 

As much as I would like to elaborate on the kinds of things that Mr. Demeritt managed to cram into my skull, I think another Barstow teacher beat me to the punch with his homage-a-la-art. Mr. Luce took the painting right out of my brain (it's kind of like taking the words right out of your mouth, but for art history nerds). Rothko expresses every part of this turmoil of emotions, and does so stunningly. 

http://my-kid-could-paint-that.blogspot.com/2012/05/robert-demeritt-rest-in-peace.html 

Thanks Mr. Luce for that piece of prose.

And thank you Mr. Demeritt for changing every life you encountered. 

Talking to Birds

So this morning at 6am, I decided that it would be a good idea to wake up, get out of bed and get on a train.  Doesn't that sound like your perfect morning?  Now just add a suit and it's a regular weekend!

Anyway, I stumbled my way to the kitchen, made some coffee, and figured that I should get ready.  So load up at the crack of dawn and make it all the way to the train station. La dee da, train ride, blah writing and watching the beautiful countryside whiz by.

So in Assisi there are a few things to do. 1) Go to the St. Francis Basilica. 2) Go to the St. Francis Basilica and look at art.  Guess what I did? I'll give you three guesses.  So I went there and did that and it was amazing.  All I really want in my life is a chorus of Giotto angels.  Ok, and maybe the ability to talk to birds (also applicable to this topic. Look it up), but that's all I really want.  I spent a good hour and a half visiting the art and Francis himself as well as his historical clothing.  All good things really.

I then spent some time walking around stores, speaking to the natives and just enjoying the day.  I walked around a few other religious sites and then got back on the train and came back to Rome. What a delightful day away.

First of 5 finals tomorrow. May the countdown to home begin.

Berets and art. Paris Days 2 and 3

PARIS! Day two (commence).


So we woke up kind of late (we're both still teenagers, we can't help it) and ate breakfast.  This consisted of some yummy bread with jam, and orange, and some juice.  After that we get ready for a day of adventure!  It's basically what I do. Well, that, and look at art. I do a lot of that too.


On the way to step one, we passed the monument to Princess Diana, I'm sorry I didn't get a picture, but it's beautiful, and I thought of Vanessa like I was supposed to.


Step one: Find Rodin Museum. If you don't know who this is, shame. I'll give you a hint, you should "Think" about it. That's a wonderful clue. Still no? Ok, he's the guy who made "The Thinker". Keep up. This museum includes a wonderful garden and outdoor area where you can walk around all of the sculptures and be surrounded by carefully sculpted (non-artistic) bushes. Then inside there are more sculptures by both Rodin and some other and these are marble, plaster, the popular bronze, and even a few manuscripts/letters. All very cool and some super sweet things. I totally dig it. Oh, and we also saw a famous French rockstar. I wish I could give you a name, but I've been sworn to secrecy. That's the line I'm sticking with.


Then we took a little stroll and a little bus to the d'Orsay (is that redundant? I don't even know) Museum. Now this is sweet. It's actually in an old train station (we're talking the super classic, must be from a movie kind of thing) and the collection is seriously impressive.  So we grab a quick (or quick as it can be in a crowded cafe in the museum) bite to eat and hit up the exhibits. I'm going to be super brief about all of the awesome things I saw in hopes that some of you art people will find this wonderfully amusing, but you non-art people (why am I friends with you again?) will not be angry with me.
(oh, and sorry these titles are in French, the magnificent d'Orsay website likes the French titles, you can Google them if you would like. Or go here (http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/tools/plan-salle.html) and click on all of the rooms and have a blast!)


Monet:
Poppy Field, La Cathedrale de Rouen (times two. Go series paintings), Essai de Figure en plein-air: Femme a l'ombrelle tournee vers la gauche, La gare Saint-Lazare


Degas:
Dans un cafe, Foyer de la danse a l'opera de la rue Le Peletier, Dance Class


Renoir:
Jeunes Filles au Piano, Bal du mulin de la Galette, La Liseuse


Manet:
Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes, Le de jeuner sur l'herbe, Le Balcon


Whistler:
Arrangement en gris et noir #1


(In case you were curious, that was all on one floor. And that's a VERY incomplete list. Go to that website. Make yourself smart)


Seurat:
The Circus


Van Gogh: (Side note, you should watch the Simon Schama Power of Art video about Van Gogh, it's awesome)
Portrait de l'artiste (two of these too!)
La chambre de Van Goch a Arles


For those of you who speak/read French, I apologize for the lack of accents, it's late here, and I'm not so good at figuring out how to copy and paste those in without one of those fancy keyboards/minion to do it for me. I'll work on it.


Next step (2? 3? Who knows. I don't do numbers. Chloe? Hannah? Help!).  Champs-Élysées!  And with that comes many things.  First was the super sweet Ferris Wheel that takes you up to see Paris from the air (a lot like the Eiffel Tower, except it spins) and there was this joyous atmosphere of a carnival and there was this catchy French song playing in the cart-thing and it was awesome. 


Once off the Ferris Wheel, we walked down the Champs-Élysées through all of the Christmas markets. And believe you me, I am one of those strict-THERE IS ANOTHER HOLIDAY BETWEEN HALLOWEEN AND CHRISTMAS people, but will all of the cider, and the chill in the air, and the delicious looking things, you couldn't help but feel just the beginnings of the holiday spirit. So we smelled all of the wonderful things being served up, and watched the crowds, and walked down the lines of year-round stores, and just had a splendid time.  We eventually wound around to eating at this Crepe place where pretty much anything worth mentioning is on a crepe. And that's awesome. I had a delicious crepe with ham, mozzarella, basil, and sun dried tomatoes then an applesauce crepe for dessert. It was wonderful.  Then we walked all the way home, watched the French version of Dancing with the Stars, and went to bed. 


As if that wasn't exhausting enough, we began day three in much the same way as day two with a late start and a good breakfast. Then we began the whirlwind that is the Louvre in under a lifetime. Hard to do, many attempt, and few do it well, but I can honestly say that I think we did pretty well for ourselves. Once again, I will attempt to make a very incomplete list of the wonderful works we saw.  


David:
Portrait of Juliette Recamier
Crowning of Emperor Nepoleon
Intervention of the Sabine Women
The Lictors Returning to Brutus the Bodies of His Sons
The Oath of the Horatii


Mantegna:
St. Sebastian


Arcimboldo:
The Seasons (These are 4 separate paintings: Spring, Summer, Winter, and Autumn)


Leonardo da Vinci:
Mona Lisa (watched the crowds)


Caravaggio:
Death of the Virgin (Probably one of my favorites not just of the weekend, but in life.)


Gericault:
Raft of Medusa


Rubens:
The Marie de Medici Cycle


Michelangelo:
Dying Slave
Bound Slave


Canova:
Cupid and Psyche


And something like 10,000 others, but I was in a hurry (even if you were there from open to close, you might get through a small room throughly. Not a joke. There are 35,000 works in the Louvre. Count those zeros again.)


But, sadly, we had to bolt, and made it back to the apartment where we met Sebastian (not the saint, Juliette's older brother) for lunch with the family. This splendid meal included something like baked mashed potatoes, and steak with pepper spread, shredded carrot salad, and a delicious rhubarb custard thing. Oh and there was American coffee. It was lovely. 


Then, I had to leave such a wonderful place. I know, tear. And I made my way back to the airport where I had the (un)pleasant surprise of being delayed for an extra 2 hours. No explanation, just delayed. And two hours later, I was starving, eating peanut M&Ms and playing endless games of solitare. When it gets to the point that you gladly turn to your Gaga readings for entertainment, that it's really bad and you're really bored. That's a sorry, depressing statement, but it's the truth. So instead of getting back at 9 ish, I was back at 11:30. It sucked. 


But the airport was honestly my ONLY complaint about the entire weekend. Good food, good art, good company. Always winning. 


   

Firenze! All for Art and Art for All!

If I were to write a blog post about my weekend it would go like this.


Art. Art art. Art art ART art. Art art art aRt ART-ART, art art art art art Art art art! Art art a-r-t, art art art, (art art, ART!) art art. Lunch. ART, art art art, tart, art art art art Art, art art art.... ART.


Ok, that's enough of that.


But that's really what happened. Not even a joke. So much art that at one point I thought that my head was going to explode, my eyes were going to pop out of my skull, and my feet were going to fall off. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. And it was wonderful.


Ok, so now I'm going to attempt to list all of the things/places that we went as a class to see. This will be difficult and it will be incomplete, I apologize in advance.


Day 1 (Friday)
Santa Maria Novella: (yep, waiting in line for this one was 11/11/11 11:11.)
      Trinity-- Masaccio
      Strozzi Chapel-- Filippino Lippi
      Tornabuoni Chapel-- Domenico Ghirlandaio


Accademia
      David--Michelangelo
      The Prisoners--Michelangelo (my presentation. Boo-yah)
      St. Matthew-- Yup, Michelangelo


Santa Trinita
     Sassetti Chapel--Domenico Ghirlandaio


Ok, that was exhausting. But so worth it. Presentation out of the way, life is better. Then a group of us decided that we would all go out to dinner.  Kelly had found this place that was on the other side of the river and it was absolutely delightful. I'm terribly sorry that I don't remember the name (I mean, I Remember the Name, but I don't know the name of this restaurant) but it was lovely. There were about 10 of us and we attempted half-sizes (a complete misnomer. Anything that comes in a bowl/plate twice the size of your head is not a half-size serving.) And everything was delicious. I personally had the ravioli with the walnut cream sauce, but I was also lucky enough to sample some traditional Florentine soup and the best gnocchi I think I've ever had (with truffle oil? yes please.)


After that we all walked back toward the Duomo (what a lovely landmark/meeting place, artistic and everything.) but separated back into our various parts of town where we were residing for the weekend. At that point I realized that I really needed something to do for the second round of 11/11/11 11:11.  So I'm in Florence, I'm not attending the Bob Dylan concert like I had thought about (let's be real, how sweet would that be?)?), and I have no where to be/no one to see. So I sat in the Piazza Signoria for a bit and when that clock got closer, I pulled out three coins from my wallet and decided that the best way to celebrate this once in a life time occasion was to throw three coins in the fountain there. I hoped that it works like the Trevi Fountain works, you know, three coins and you return to [Rome] (or in this case, Florence).  11:11 hits and in went the coins to a very satisfying (and hopefully lucky) ker-plunk, and I instantly became the happiest person in the world! (ok, just kidding, but it was fun, and I enjoyed it.) Then back to the hostel for some shut-eye.

Day 2 (Saturday)

Bargello

      Bacchus--Michelangelo

      (Tondo) –Michelangelo

      David --Donatello (Life. Made.)

      Sacrifice of Isaac --Ghiberti and Brunelleschi (as the ‘audtion’ piece for the Baptistry Doors or Gates of Paradise)

      Pitti Tondo-- Michelangelo

     And two lions wearing crowns.  

Lunch at a native bakery where I had to be able to recognize my number when it was said very quietly in a very loud bakery. I'm telling you it's a skill. 

Uffizi

     Freaking everything.

     Primavera--Botticelli

     Birth of Venus--Botticelli

     Portrait of a Young Man Holding a Medici Medal-- Botticelli

     Annunciation-- Botticelli

(Everything mentioned thus far in this heading is in one singular room)

     Adoration of the Magi-- Leonardo da Vinci

     Annunciation-- Leonardo da Vinci

     Baptism of Christ--Verrocchio (and Leonardo, but it was only one angel)

     Rest During Flight into Egypt --Correggio

     Madonna and Child in Glory--Correggio

     Adoration of the Child-- Correggio

     Madonna of the Gold Finch--Raphael

     Pope Leo X with Cardinals...--Raphael

     Madonna of the Harpies-- Andrea del Sarto

And those are just the things we had presentations on.  They forcibly kicked us out at 6:30. Literally dragged us from the premise, it's a wonder we weren't escorted by armed guards.

Then I had about an hour of trying to communicate with a guy at the cell phone store about how I had accidentally locked myself out of my phone and would love to get back in, but my Italian was almost as bad as his English, or so I assume, I used my Italian. Then out for a night with the girls.  Tried Boar, had a lot of fun, if you really want to know the stories, you should ask me sometime. Things that happen in Florence.

Day 3 (Sunday)

Pitti Palace

       Pallas and the Centaur-- Botticelli

       Portrait of Agnolo-Doni-- Raphael (this is the cover of my text book for this class. How appropriate.) 

       David-- Verrocchio (That makes a complete set of Davids.)

      And maybe a dozen other things we talked about, mentioned, or have seen before: Unfinished bust by Michelangelo, 3-4 other Raphael portraits, a Rubens (I don't remember the title now), and in passing maybe another 700 paintings on the walls there. It would literally take me years to get through the Pitti (and the Uffizi, let's be honest) giving each painting/work the study it deserves. 

After lunch with the girls, I grabbed my bag and headed to the train station. Made it back home after speaking briefly with a Canadian family (cue anthem) and began writing this blog. Made some dinner, talked to the parentals, and now I'm calling it a night. Viva Firenze.

       

Mission Impossible

So I was 20 minutes late to my Italian High Renaissance class this morning. Now before you start pointing fingers and saying that I should set my alarm earlier, or actually stop fixing my hair and get out the door, I would like to say that I was on time, until I got on the bus.

I woke up a reasonable hour, rolled out of bed and ready to get down to business (To defeat the huns! Just kidding, this is the Renaissance.) Figuring that it would only take me about 30 minutes to get there (I mean, public transportation is a lot faster than walking) I decided to go down to Giovanni's and grab a coffee.  Then I waltzed out of there to the tram stop and waited for the relatively prompt tram.  Jumped on there. Made it to Argentina, got on the bus right away, two stops later, I thought I was golden! Hold on, let me check the map, ok sweet, just right up this street.

FALSE.

Everything was wrong. I checked the map again, turned down this tunnel, didn't end up where I thought I was supposed to. Walked across some intersections, didn't find any familiar (as in on the map) streets, turned down a different street. Decided to follow a precarious sign with my destination written on it, and ended up walking up a set of stairs, and then turning a corner and going down a different set of stairs, finally saw a guard standing in a doorway and I thought-"Thank God! The Presidential palace!" (Note, not many people in Italy say that). So by then, I had some semblance of where I was. I then made it up the stairs to the Piazza Quirinale and next door, low and behold--where I was supposed to be 20 minutes ago.

Thus begins part two: Actually getting into the museum.  Plan A) Sneak in. Guards, damn it. Plus I'm sweating and carrying a backpack=not my sleuthing/ninja attire. Scratch that. Plan B) Look adorable and lost. Tactics: Look adorable and lost. "Hi, Professor Smyth's class from John Cabot is in there and she has my ticket." "What?" (Repeat). "Ok, yeah, go right in." EASY PEASIE LEMON SQUEEZY. (I could be such a good spy). Drat. Obstacle 2: Ticket lady. "Hi, Professor Smyth from John Cabot is in there with my class, and she has my ticket." "I can't let you in without a ticket." "She's already in the museum and she has my ticket. The people out side told me to just go in." "Oh, ok."

Mission Accomplished.

So I check my backpack, and run up the nearest staircase toward the exhibit. Speed walk, speed walk, not seeing anyone from class... uh... maybe they went up stairs to do that presentation first... Ok, next flight of stairs... desolate. There are about 4 guards and one old couple up there.... So I decided that in order to not look like a buffoon, that I would calmly walk though the second floor and try to catch my breath. Looking around, ok, I'll go back down stairs. Well looky there, I must have walked past them the first time. So I just jumped right in and stood in the back, and wasn't asked a single question about why I was over 30 minutes late to class. Call me skilled.

So I learned a lot in the museum. It was a lovely exhibit, lots of wonderful things, and eventually we were released to go back to our regularly scheduled classes. Having had enough of public transportation for the day so I was going to walk back to campus. La dee da. I think I'll walk over in this direction, oh hey, that's the Trevi Fountain. Yup, living in Rome. Finally made it back to a part of town where I trusted the buses, and jumped on the 119 headed to Argentina. In Piazza Venezia, there was a rather lost German family who kept asking for Piazza Navona.  Hint, I don't think this bus goes anywhere near it. But I don't speak German (In fact, my German-much like my Italian-is primarily composed of (PUN) lyrics to arias and art songs. And the first German song to come into my head is about proposals.... so uh, maybe not?).  So when we got to Argentina and they were going to get off the bus because they thought it was Piazza Navona, I did stop them and say that it was Argentina. But I was going to be late to class again.

Grabbed some pizza, made it to class, and survived the rest of the day without incident.

In other news, Kate's parents have arrived. We're going to Venice in the morning (so yes, this is the last post for a few days. Reread it if you need to.)

ALSO: Gusties are going to shine this weekend at the Norton. Good luck to everyone competing, make me proud, UPDATE ME.  That is all.

Herding art viewers

After completing my Cin City midterm, I rushed home to make a very messy grilled mozzarella and tomato sandwich (it fell apart, sad day) before I headed over to the other side of town to pick up my parents and go to the Vatican museum. Weee!!!!  Fun stuff right?

Ok, three things here.

1) Erica and I have already discussed this, but you should be made aware of the new laws regarding camera usage. Basically, in order to purchase a camera with a flash, you must not only complete a 12 hour training course, but you must also take a lengthy exam including an essay that details what kind of damage you can actually do to others as well as art with a flash.  After this, you may then obtain your certification badge that will allow you to purchase a camera with a flash. If you still want to purchase a camera without going through these lines, draw a picture.

Until this law is enacted, I will resort to violence, yelling in different languages, and ultimately calling over uniformed security guards to escort you out of the premise where you will then pay hefty fines because of your idiocy and ignorance.

Have a nice day.

2) The modern art in the Vatican Museum (yep, that's what I thought, you're now thinking, say what? Modern art? huh....) gets almost no love. Where you can walk at a steady shuffling pace through the entire museum with 45,000 other people looking at fresco after fresco after tapestry after model after ancient Greek sculpture, by the time you get to the modern art collection, there are a grand total of 3 people in the room. And two of them are guards. For serious. Some of it is absolutely stunning too! It's just that either people just would rather spend their time craning their necks at the Sistine ceiling (I mean no disrespect), or just no one really likes modern art. If it is in fact the later, I am sad.

3) The Pieta makes me cry.

See? that wasn't so bad of a list. After we managed to escape the giant crowds, we went back to the apartment a la parentals and eventually went to dinner. Dinner with the fam is always interesting, mainly because my father has taken the sudden notion to not like pasta.  What's not to like about pasta? I haven't the foggiest, but he insists that having pasta 3 times this week is more than sufficient. I think he's wrong, but let the world judge when he orders things like "fish" and gets exactly what he wanted. Only half of that is a lie, you can decide which half.

Consequently, we went to an Irish pub instead. I mean, I don't personally mind, because, let's face it, I've been eating Italian food for almost 2 months now (holy schnockies-that long already? Woof-da) and to spice it up a little with fish and chips is not a bad option. But within a week, you can certainly make it around Italy eating Italian food with no complaints. Yes, that is me casting judgment on my father, don't worry about it.

So after that little adventure, I headed back to the apartment (mine this time) and reviewed for my midterm in the morning.  Everybody's excited now.

Two days-one post. It's environmentally friendly.

Ok, here's the quick and dirty of yesterday because I'm a day behind and I need to catch up with the start of a new week. Ready? Go!

1) Francesco: The parentals and I decided that they should probably see the area where I actually live. So we met up to have dinner at Francesco's.  This is actually called Otello's (Stop saying Otello, it sounds pretentious) but Francesco's really the highlight, so that's what we shall call it. He was his usual jovial self, all kinds of quips and giggles. The 'rents seemed to have fun.

2) Baptism: After wandering around Trastevere for a bit (including some churches) we finally decided to grab some gelato (that's what good Italians do right?) and sit on a nice little bench outside a church (duh). Well we decided to actually go in to take a look around after we finished our delicious treats. And low and behold, there was a service going on in about 20 minutes. So we listened to the choir practice (see #3) and waited. Well, not only was it a service, but it was ALSO a baptism. So we had sort of accidentally crashed Andrea's baptism. But I'm still cheering for him, so I think that counts.

3) English: When we had first walked into the church, we realized that we had sort of stumbled in on a choir rehearsal. Now you know me, I'm a choir geek and proud of it. So I'm contentedly listening and suddenly it hits me. They are not only singing in English, they are singing gospel. "This Little Light of Mine" to be specific (there are many reasons why I love this one).  The greatest part was that they had pretty thick Italian accents with their English gospel. SO FUN. I kind of loved it. I'm not going to lie. And by the time they put on their wizarding robes (come on, dark blue with a shiny silver collar and a matching shiny stripe/sash down one side? Wizards). And basically when they started singing "Oh Happy Day" I was putty in their hands. Not because they were amazing or anything (they were fine, don't get me wrong, but I am a self professed choir snob), but there was so much Italian-accented joy.

Ok. On to today!  Woohoo! I love this speedy thing!

Today I slept in a bit and eventually wound my way back to going to lunch with my parents and going to see beautiful art!  I've got such a winning life.  It was really a Baroque weekend. I didn't fix anything (bah).  But we went to Santa Maria dell Vittoria, home of St. Theresa in Ecstasy.  Bernini? All the time. SO GOOD. Not even a joke. After a bit of that, we made our way back to the Pantheon area to San Luigi dei Francesi.  This is the stunning home of three (count them, THREE) Caravaggio works: "The Calling of St. Matthew," "Inspiration of St. Matthew," and "Martyrdom of St. Matthew".  Artgasm? Yes. Very much so. And I have no qualms admitting that on the internet. They are all beautiful and fantastic, and lovely, and stunning and my life is now complete.

After a far too short nap, the parentals and I went to dinner before going to the big show. You all remember Kozmic Blues? Well Daniele and Gina are also in another group called Heart and Soul with two other people. And they were playing at a place called the Fonclea.  It was late, but awesome. I was incredibly sad to leave early (class? what class? I don't have class.) But the choice of song was excellent (I mean, you can't go wrong with Rock and Roll, it just doesn't happen. And sung in 4 part? Yep, sold).  PLUS we got all of those CDs!!  Hashtag winning.

Loving life and going to bed.

Dough Vey=Oye Vey

Ok. Let's get to this biz-nas.  The short version was typed up in the last post, so that's where you can find the abridged version.

First thing I did was figure out how to get to Piazza del Popolo.  No, I hadn't been there yet, yes it was far away, and yes I had to take public transportation. Now this in and of itself is kind of a scary process. In fact, public transportation can be scary anywhere. But here in Rome, and I think I've said this before, buses often go where any normal person would think that buses shouldn't go.  So jumping on a bus that may or may not drive down an alley with 75 people crowded in front of it as it scrapes the paint off the side and on to the nearest building can be a daunting task for a morning. So I look up some information, get dressed, drink my coffee, and brave the elements of the tram and the bus.

And you'll be proud of me. I made it all the way there with no problems!  Once I got on the 119, and payed attention to where we were going/what the stops said, I was golden!  So I jump off the bus and begin walking toward the designated place I was going to meet my professor/classmates. Doobedoobedoo.... WHAT ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE HERE!!?!???!?!

I'm talking, holy cannoli. There were probably upwards of 500 people in this piazza. Now it was a big piazza, but they were all talking loudly and waving important and angry looking flags. After the last little spurt of unhappy crowds, I was kind of wary about actually walking into the middle to meet my professor. But all of the people were sort of gathered around this very official looking stage that had a bunch of electronic equipment that equally looked important. So I scanned the crowd and eventually found my intended meeting people.

And we trooped over to the museum that we would spend the next two hours looking at old pottery and fragments of Etruscan ruins and being stalked/followed by an older gentleman who probably thought this was an actual tour and not a class. Oh well. But we had a good time, saw some neat stuff, and I don't have to go on my own! That's a pretty good deal!

I then scampered off to meet my parents at the top of the Spanish Steps. Why I said the top of the Spanish Steps instead of taking my chances with finding them at the bottom?  I have no idea. I must have been delusional, but, I climbed the entirety of the Spanish Steps for the second time in my lifetime. And I think that's more than sufficient. But if I wanted to start a Roman exercise plan, that would be the first place I start. Actually it would be to run to the Spanish Steps, including dodging past the tourists, sprinting up the steps with no break, do that maybe twice, and maybe make a loop around the Colosseum and then back up to the Villa Borghese (to be mentioned in a minute) before taking your cool down back to where you started. If you doubt this plan, look up all of those places on a map, then tell me that again.

None the less I found them safely cloistered in the church (see what I did there?) and we headed out to find lunch. Lunch ended up at this cute little place that had about three floors once you decided to just keep going down the stairs.  Lunch was good, and we talked for a bit before deciding to head in the direction of the Borghese Museum.

Now let's talk for a moment about what is winning music to play when you want people to give you money. The Villa Borghese is basically a giant park with a few very important cultural buildings that house everything from cinema screenings to incredibly valuable works of art. But like any public park, there are lots of people doing what people do: run, sit, walk, read, beg, play the guitar-whatevs. As we are sitting there, I begin to hear the strains of a very familiar song. But something seems out of place, and it's not the fact that at least one string on the guitar was slightly out of tune. Oh yeah, that's the very famous song, "What Child is This?"

I've got a problem with this. The problem mainly consists of the fact that it is October. I love Christmas music as much as the next girl. Promise. I sing it, I hum it, I have several Christmas albums that I have memorized from the thousands of times I've listened to them. But Christmas music played before Thanksgiving is something that puts me in a relatively spiteful mood that is really only amusing for equally dark-humored cynics like myself. The nice version basically states that I think Christmas music should be saved for the blissful month of the holidays that lies between Thanksgiving and December 25th. That's not too much to ask for, honest. It's just that when the Christmas music begins in October, I have to kick rocks against trashcans and loudly sing various songs by boy bands from the 90s. It's really the only thing that helps the situation.

Luckily we escaped into the museum gift shop to wait for our scheduled time of entry.  The way that the Borghese Museum works is that you are allowed 2 hours to see the entire museum (pretty do-able if you prioritize), but that also means that you are only allowed to enter at certain times and only a certain number of people. So we got to go in at 5 with 200 other people. Snazzy huh? The Borghese is home to two very large collections of two incredibly talented artists: Gian Lorenzo Bernini, and Michelangelo Merisi Caravaggio.

Let's start with Bernini. This is the kind of sculpture that takes your breath away. My mother commented, "I don't know how you make stone look like cloth." My thought is, "How do you make it breathe?" Bernini has this unsurpassed ability to make sculpture move. Literally quiver in space. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, I highly recommend the documentary in Simon Schama's series "The Power of Art" about Bernini (there is an equally good one about Caravaggio-yay educational things to watch in your down time! Vanessa knows what's up).  The collection of Bernini sculptures (there is also a beautiful Canova in one room as well as several lesser known works by other artists) is simply astounding. You can stare at any single one for upwards of 30 minutes without moving. Each one is in a word, entrancing. The movement, the style, the detail. We're talking detail ranging from the leaves branching from Daphne's fingertips, to the tears on Proserpina's cheeks. This is no ordinary chunk of marble. They breathe. They live.

Caravaggio has the same grasp over his medium: oil. There is just one room of almost entirely Caravaggio. One room. Maybe 6 very well known paintings. And I'm going to be honest right here. I cried. I mean looking at his last work, "David With the Head of Goliath," is just overpowering. Not because of its size (it's not very big) but because it's a self portrait. And that kind of visual representation of self loathing just comes in this giant wave of emotions. You can't help but pity him. (Again, Simon Schama does wonderful things in the Caravaggio section of "Power of Art." Watch it. You won't regret a minute.) Basic summary: It was awesome. My art history self was content.

After that we had the beautiful adventure of taking public transportation back! How swell! So once we found the bus stop, we're all standing there waiting. Keep in mind that this bus stop is about 50 feet from a McCafe (McDonalds).  This woman comes up to me and asks, "Doh-vey Mc-Donalds?" in a very stereo-typical I'm-an-American-using-my-limited-Italian-vocabulary-to-ask-people-where-things-are kind of way. To which I responded, "It's right over there" and pointed to my right. She understood the gesture very well, but it took her approximately two seconds to realize that I had responded to her in very clear English instead of Italian. "Thanks!" and she and her husband walked into the mcdream (not to be confused with McDreamy...).  This probably means at least one of two things: 1) I'm beginning to look like a native (questionable, but I'll take it) or 2) I just looked like the kind of person who would know where the McDonald's is. I'm really hoping it's the first one, but with my luck, who knows.

As we boarded the bus the "Italian sense of space" came into distinct play. Not only was it crowed, by the time that we got close to where we were going to get off (with in about 4 stops) there was a man who  decided to hold a very loud argument with a woman who was getting off the bus. Things like "you're uneducated" (in Italian) were being thrown around and even after the woman left the bus, he was still talking about. Well, being good Italians, everyone else joined in with their opinion. First the older woman sitting next to him. Then the younger one standing by him. Then the woman on the other side. Then finally (as he was getting off the bus) the guy who had been sitting quietly in the corner the entire time. From what I gathered, the angry guy was mad about how this woman said something to him and he thought she was rude.  Everyone else either a) couldn't figure out why he was still offended by it or b) didn't think it was that bad. I kind of laughed, my parents were somewhat confused. But eh, so is life.

Made it back to the apartment. Cooked some din din. And sat down for the first time to write this. But it's taken me until now to actually get it done.

For tomorrow:
1)Francesco
2)Baptism
3)English

123! easy as FBE! Ok, so I'm not the Jackson 5...

Preface

Adventures with parentals and Ertruscan art:

1) Protest
2) Pottery
3) Pasta
4) Perennials
5) Public Transportation

All of the above will be elaborated on soon.

All the lonely people looking-back-at-me-from-18th-century-gilded-frames-Florence (part 2)

[to be read by Michael Caine]
Chapter 2
The Second Day

The next morning we woke up leisurely, but in good time to actually make another whirlwind adventure of Firenze. (ok, you can stop with the Michael Caine voice any time now... that was just supposed to be for the title...)  This all happens after we had laughed ourselves to sleep the night before and now were (quoting Kate here) "Ready to rise and greet the day!" (Yeah, I know there was too much enthusiasm in that sentence for anyone before noon.) But we managed to get packed up and out walking toward breakfast by 10.

Some espresso, croissants (cornetti) (<-- look at me learning multiple languages), and orange juice, we walked around for a little bit taking pictures, attempting to find a working ATM, and to make the first leather purchase of the day (looking hott, Molly).  Then we waited in line for the Uffizi Gallery.  Not only did this take an extensive amount of time, but we played a lot of "he's the one, but" games. Once in the gallery, I basically stood there with my mouth wide open and fanny pack and audio headset equipped tourists bustled around my statuesque form.

I'm talking hole-y Shiitake mushrooms. There are billions if not trillions of dollars worth of art in this museum. I think that if you collected all of the money made from selling the entirety of the Uffizi collection, you could pay off the US national debt. I don't know if that's actually true, but I'd be impressed. Hell, I'm already impressed. No need for those kinds of joking terms. So I grabbed a map and began my tour de force of the Uffizi.  For me, this means something like my nearly 3 hour stay didn't even scratch the surface of what I wanted to look at. I spent a long time doing some journaling homework for my Italian High Renaissance class (Why has no one come up with fun nicknames for these classes? I'm tired of typing this out every single time!) and that involved spending about an hour in front of one painting sketching and writing.  But there were something like 17,000 other paintings that were completely neglected! I feel terrible. So many paintings that just deserve a good long look instead of the guided tour required 5 minute stop. Just a string of half-attentive tourists shuffling in and out without a reluctant, passionate look back. It just makes you want to cry.

Anywayzies. I know not all of you will be as enthralled by the overwhelming presence of art as I was, but they eventually dragged me kicking and screaming out of the museum so that we could figure out what leather purchases we each needed to make before leaving the leather capital of the world.  This involved a walk across the Ponte Vecchio (I promise that I'll post some pictures tomorrow, it's getting late and this is getting long for me to do it now) and around some of the side streets.

Leather leather leather everywhere. Kate and Erica both bought beautiful purses/bags/begs (depending on your accent of choice) and Molly and I are jacket buddies.  And I'm just going to say, Cadi K is going to pee her pants when she sees my new leather jacket. Sending my love from Italy. It started at over 700 euros, and after much talk and trying on several other jackets, we worked it all down to 270 euros. Deal? Yes. Deal. It's a beautiful red and hand stitched.  I'll post pictures of this acquisition as soon as I have a good reason to wear it... like it's cooler than 80 degrees. So hopefully soon!

With our leather purchases in hand, we picked up our bags at the hostel and made our exhausted way back to the train station. This began our adventure back home. Train (lots of laughs and delusional commentary), waiting at Termini for the train to Trastevere, missing the announcement that said that the train would be at a different platform, attempting to find a bus, giving up and taking a taxi.  The taxi ride always means someone in the backseat is terrified that we're eventually going to squish a moped or confused tourist. Luckily for us, we managed to not kill anyone on that Mariocart track back home.

Home at last. And realizing that we don't have much food except for a frozen french fry/hotdog pizza. Yum?
Maybe for the next adventure.

Rose Nylund never had anything bad to say about Herringbone patterns--Florence (part 1)

Hello friends! Or should I say "Hello Firenze!" They sound about the same in some accents. It's been a long time and this is going to be a long post. So sit up, pay attention, and have some sort of delicious beverage of choice nearby.

Wake up in the morning feeling like it's very early-because it is. We were planning to take the 7:58am train to Termini (a station in Rome that has a lot of connections).  So at about 6, I forced myself to roll out of bed and pretend like it was a doable time of morning. And all I could really think about was, that I'm going to be late to the tournament. Let's face it speechies, we get up early for tournaments. and 6am is not that early.  In fact, if you're getting up at 6, you're going to be late. So I did some dishes, packed some stuff, put some clothes on, and put on a thing of coffee.  After we were all up (some more excitedly than others) we downed some coffee and ran out the door with bags over shoulders, laughter, and old school rap lyrics being tossed around the sidewalk as we made our way tot he first train station of the day.

Fast forward to post ticket purchasing, we make our way on to the train.  For this short ride, we didn't do too much. But once we arrived at Termini, we had to walk down the entire length of the train station until we finally found another counter to purchase our tickets to Firenze.  We then waited for a little bit before hopping on the last train of the day. This two hour ride left some sleepy, others well read, and still some others smelling gum. But you know, all in a day's work. Once we made it to Florence, we jumped off the train and dragged our luggage all the way to the hostel we were going to be staying at for the night.

In the process of finding the hostel, we passed through the Piazza del Duomo. Let's talk about this for a moment.  So much time is spent giving credit to Brunelleschi for his Duomo, and rightly so (that to be covered later) but the entire square is vibrant and rich in colors, architecture, and Asian tourists.  If you don't think that sounds like a winning place to be, then you're no fun. It's stunning. The facade of the entire cathedral is brilliantly patterned and ornate and automatically draws you toward it before you even realize your feet are moving.  Fighting against the impulse to run up and hug the entire building, we finally made our way to the hostel, dropped off our bags, asked some questions from the proprietors and decided to grab a snack before attempting the biggest adventure for the day: Climbing the Duomo.

Hostel: Check. Snack: Check. Caffeine: Check.
To the Duomo. Cupola or bust.

Now to get to the top of the Duomo, there are some tasks.  The first one is to wait in line and take pictures of other tacky tourists in floral prints and eating gelato.  The second is to pay 8 euros for a ticket.  Then: the stairs. And there are a lot of them. 463... ish.....  So jump on in and get those legs to pumping.  At first you're walking along thinking, hey, these are pretty nice stairs. Not a really tight spiral, almost square shaped. Sweet. Dobedobedo. Tralalala-hey look a window!  That's cool. Keep going, platform.  At this point you being to realize that you really did pay 8 euros to climb 463 steps. All of them. And that some people are not taking that investment seriously.  Some people have seen the road less traveled and turned around to go back the way they came. They have a word for those kinds of people, they are called: Wimps. Only the strong survive this.

Eventually you make it all the way to the edge around the actual dome.  This part is hard to describe in words. But there's a last ring before you start walking inside the actual dome, like the curved part with the burnt orange roof. Since you are inside the cathedral, you are basically walking along the molding that marks the difference between the wall and the ceiling.  The walls have giant stained glass windows that are just out of reach at this point, and the ceiling has an enormous fresco of the Last Judgment.  When you are literally standing at the foot of some of these demons, they are unrecognizable, but looking across the way, everything looks well thought out and proportional.  It's fantastic.

From this point you actually have to start climbing inside the dome. This involves very VERY narrow passageways that also much double as a two lane road.  That part is tricky.  There are parts where the only way back down is the way you got there in the first place, and there is still this giant string of people making their way up to the top. So basically if you are at all claustrophobic, it's rough going. I'm now going to have an art history nerd moment. Thanks to Mr. Luce making our class read that "Brunelleschi's Dome" book, I was acutely aware of the herringbone brick pattern and the alternating ring and rib structural supports.  And although I was ogling and babbling, there were still stairs to climb-which got progressively steeper. So huffing and puffing we made it all the way to the top to see the most beautiful view you could possibly ask for.

Tangent time.  Art history books spend pages upon pages describing the intimate detail of the building, the architecture, the artist, the years and the stylistic points of each thing. But nothing, let me rephrase, NOTHING compares to actually being there. To walk the steps, to feel the walls, to notice the little things like the mortar, the bricks, the dips in the stairs from all of the people walking up and down them for hundreds of years. This is culture. And once you read all of that material (cough, not very exciting Brunelleschi book, cough) everything comes flooding back when you're actually there. So, props Mr. Luce for making me read that entire thing. I remembered a lot more than I thought I would. (Side note for those of you who survived that 2 week discussion with me: THERE'S AN OX HOIST.  This is real life.)

So after taking ample pictures at the top of the Duomo, speaking to some British people (if KBG doesn't come back with a British accent, we gonna have some problems) and generally enjoying the view, we made our way back down the 463 steps without breaking anything (either personal or historical). We then made our sweaty way to Santa Croce to a wonderful little restaurant on the piazza. It was absolutely delicious. Pesto Lasagna? Yes please. I think I'll have 7. And 8 slices of cake. Thanks.

After that luxurious lunch we finally worked up the shaky-legged strength to make our leisurely way toward the Accademia.  For those of you who don't know why this is such a fantastic place, it's because of The David. Yes, that David.  Michelangelo's David. And (probably less famous) several of Michelangelo's later works like "Dying Slave" and the late "Pieta".  *shiver* SO GOOD. All of it. There were some other smaller galleries too, very early Renaissance alter pieces, and another sculpture exhibit.  Once again, those pretty pictures in art books don't do much justice to the works themselves.

We then shopped our way back to the hostel where we rinsed off (walking up lots of steps takes effort and hydration).  Rested for a bit, then got ready to go out to dinner at a Mexican place. Now before you start judging us about going to a Mexican restaurant in Florence, let me just list some facts for you to digest: Fact-Mexican food is delicious. Fact-It's hard to find Mexican food in Italy (and I assume many other parts of Europe).  Fact- We've been here for almost a month and haven't had any Mexican, thus going through with drawl.  So although it wasn't the best Mexican in the world, it was attempt to fix the fix.  Then back to the hostel for some well deserved sleep. Winner.

This is very long. I'm going to consider this part one, and the next one part two.  It's like a chapter book.