Two statues from Piazza Navona, and One Pizza from Heaven

Here's the sketch I did in Piazza Navona a few days ago. Today I added some colour and spent a big chunk of the day transferring it to linoleum. It was super complicated. Will be interesting to see how it carves and prints. It's bigger than the linoleum I brought, so I'm puzzling two pieces together along that vertical tone shift down the middle. Crafty, no?

On a more immediately gratifying note, here's the 6€ pizza I ordered for lunch:

It was amazing. Yes, that's some kind of molten goat cheese in the middle.  I'm having the second half for dinner. The gift that keeps giving. 

Dear Panagopolous,

You won't be hearing from me anymore. I'm sorry.  It's not you, it's this pizza. 

Carol

. 

A Little Opera At All Saints in Rome

Here's the image from my earlie post. Text here says:

Before coming to Italy I googled 'concerts.rome.march' and this is what I found. It was an 'Opera's Greatest Hits' deal where an ensemble played while four soloists sang only arias a non-opera regular (me) would recognize. Loved it. And after a day of site seeing (saint peter's basilica- wow) I was just happy to have a place to sit still and sketch. This woman here s an alagamation of the two female vocalists, and the violinist did not fit page left. The nice French lady beside me keeps looking at my sketch and smiling (Bonjour Madame!) and during the last aria a couple of the performers pulled people up from the crowd and sang while waltzing. Fun :)

Sketching in Perugia

Got out and did some sketching today. And made my second mandatory Italy purchase. Gloves. It's c-c-c-cold. I'm not even in the mountains yet. But every corner looks like this. 

It's worth being chilly.  Truth be told I painted this from inside a cafe. I went on to do another painting from inside a resto while I ate chicken cacciatore for lunch. At this rate both my sketchbook and my jeans are going to fill out nicely. 

I wrote the following at Al Mangiar Bene after arriving here last night:

I'm in Perugia, and have apparently arrived here before the advent of wifi. It is nowhere, at least not in the historical centre where I'm staying.  It is completely medieval here.  The room I've rented is inside a building built for a cardinal in the 1500s. The entryway is large enough to drive a huge horse and carriage into. It's cavernous. The upper floors have been carved up into apartments, and then makeshift rooms were added into any awkward space they could put them. And that's where you'll find me. One wall in my sleeping area is still the old exposed stone. It's dank and musty, but that's kind of what I signed up for. I have a mezzanine, not tall enough to stand up in, but I work sitting down anyways

I arrived tired and hungry so my host sent me in the direction of the main piazza, just a half an alley, an Etruscan arch and one winding stone staircase away from our front door. There's not a square inch that isn't centuries old stone, and all at wild, impossible angles. Why didn't I see this when I googled Perugia?! It is mind blowing. I followed the little pirate map he gave me and found my way here  to 'al mangiar bene' where I sit in front of the remnants of one of the best dishes I've ever eaten. Gnocchi with pork, crema and truffle oil. So simple, but the gnocchi are little pillows from heaven. If I went in the kitchen I'm betting I won't find a can opener or a package of anything. Their ingredients must all come in sacks and baskets from local producers.  Or heaven. So good. 

I wonder what's for breakfast?

A BIg Church and a Little Opera in Roma

We're on day four, my last full day in Rome. I had a big ol' sleep in, then went to the Vatican City and Saint Peter's Basilica, the biggest church in Christendom. The piazza itself is breathtaking. Standing in it, you are surrounded by 140 marble saints perched up on top of massive columns.  There was a pretty huge line running along the base of the columns. Those who come on a Saturday in June would laugh at me saying that on a rainy Tuesday in March. I was happy waiting, looking up at the saints, tucked inside my only Italy purchase so far; a big warm puffy raincoat I bought on the way here this morning. Is the fact that it's cold and rainy here a problem?  No, it's a shopportunity!  

I made my way inside and was, of course, blown away. But I was expecting to be blown away. What I wasn't expecting was to be standing in Saint Peter's listening to a sermon and suddenly realize I could understand every word of it!  Thank you Rosetta Stone!  And my obsessive-compulsive approach to hobbies.  I wasn't really listening at first, absorbed in all the detail, but he was speaking really slowly and clearly and it all shifted into focus. I was so happy! I went to All Saints church after to watch a performance of opera arias, an 'Opera's Golden Hit Parade'. I couldn't understand it all (and it wasn't all in italian) but I could get bits and pieces. It made opera feel totally different, less stuffy and elite and more like people with emotions pouring their hearts out. It was a brain shift for me.

And it lasted long enough to sit and do this sketch. Which will turn into a painting. Which will turn into a linocut. 

Bernini vs Borromini

Day 3 Update: I did go back the next day and sketch the piazzas. First I hit the Trevi Fountain, I switching from figure to figure as tourists blocked my view.  They were all taking selfies and throwing the requisite coin in the fountain. The story goes that if you toss a coin in the Trevi Fountain you're sure to return to Rome.  I tossed mine in the night before.  Just a little insurance to make sure I get back here with Greg for the romantic version of Rome 

From there I went to piazza Navona, where the incredible Bernini fountain of the four rivers takes center stage. It faces a building designed by Bernini's former student, Borromini. The legend is that the figures on the Borromini side of the fountain are shielding their eyes as a slight to his work.  They were rivals, and it's a fun story, like spray painting 'Borromini sucks!' on the side of a building in a way that would last centuries, but (spoiler alert) it's not true.  My Rick Steves' Pocket Rome points out that Bernini's fountain was actually finished before Borromini's building was begun.  Thanks Rick Steves, buzz killer. 

I sketched the two eye-shielding figures, then my friend Jim came and picked me up, extra helmet under his arm, for a scooter tour of Rome. It really is the perfect way to see this city.  Afterwards we scooted back for dinner with his wife and son at their home in E.U.R., which is this trippy moderne suburb filled with fantastic fascist architecture from Mussolini's day.  It's an amazing, pallet cleansing shift from the cacophony of architectural detail and two thousand years of colliding eras that is central Rome. Their home is adorable, as are they. It's great to see old friends so happy.

The sketches are rough, but I'll post them soon. 

Pigneto Pad, Piazzas and a Plate of Pasta

Sunday night:

I just reread yesterday's post and yes, I did climb into bed with a glass of wine last night and sketch everything I could see. 

 

Enjoyable, but not very eventful. I made up for that today. There's an open air flea market in Porto Portense on Sunday mornings. I packed up my sketch toys and went to wander the stalls in the rain. Most of the goods were pretty junky, like flea markets everywhere, but there were enough treasures mixed in there to give a glimpse of a few layers of modern Roman life. I love flea markets for that. They, like reading the classifieds, give a peek into local culture that would otherwise go unseen by a visitor. 

Afterwards I hopped on the bus  (again without paying; I've got to figure out how that works), told myself I'd just jump out when it looked interesting and ended up stumbling onto the Roman Forum and the Colleseum.  It was just after the rain, and the remnant performers of a carnival parade all covered in sequins and glitter were no competition for the ancient stone structures, green trees and rich red earth all glistening in the fragile sunlight. Too chilly to sketch, I did my best to soak it all up. 

So what would be a perfect top off on a day like that?  How about meeting up with a favourite old high school buddy who just happens to live here, speaks fluent italian (he's been married to a Roman for 16 years), knows the back routes from piazza to piazza and has just the right mix of info and anecdote to give a perfect guided walking tour?  Yes please.  Polish that off with a big plate of pasta and I'm  ready for sleep, dreaming about all those fountains and piazzas that I want to go back and draw tomorrow. Yay Rome. 

Safe and Sound in Rome

Act One:

I'm seated on a train bound for Termini Station in Rome. I have my rolling art studio with 30-something pounds of paper and linoleum alone, my backpacker guitar and all my other gear squished into a quad of chairs thatI'm sharing with an interesting (if not friendly) trio of Germans. We're close enough to smell each other's breath and they're doing their best to pretend I and my stuff don't exist as they talk/yell in Deutsch overtop of one another the entire way.  

At this moment I'm thinking about my Dad and the first lesson he taught me about travel (besides wearing a cooking pot on your head if you are traveling in the backseat of a family car after breaking your back window on a gravel road while towing a boat - true story). When I was first heading to Europe, 20-something and ready for a glamorous adventure, he said that before he would drive me to the airport I had to carry all my gear from the house up to the main road and back. I did, and when I came back I edited out about a third of my stuff. A couple of months into the trip a friend came over to travel with me. He took one look at my two remaining suitcases, foresaw all the lifting he'd have to do to appear chivalrous, and insisted I let him mail one home for me in the spot. I relented. After a few days it became clear that he and I had two very different trips in mind, and we parted ways. I didn't miss that suitcase one bit. Since then I've become a very efficient packer.  I can wheel my current set up with one hand, nothing to carry the other hand free for paying fares and hailing cabs.  I'm feeling pretty sleek. 

It still fascinates me that I can sit down in a chair (albeit an uncomfortable one), watch two movies, eat a microwaved meal, listen to some stuff on my iPad, have a fitful nap, stand up again and I'm in Amsterdam. I do all those things many other nights and nothing of import transpires.  But today here I am in Italy after a quick morning connector flight, which included my first attempt, and my first gaff in speaking Italian. I was trying to ask the flight attendant for peach juice, but based on his smirk and my previous language experience I suspect I requested a female fish. Oh well, at least I'm throwing it out there.  I did get the juice, and after gently correcting me he still spoke italian with me.  So far so good. 

And a few hours later...

A perfect intro to Roma:  

I got off the train and managed to find my trolley bus. I couldn't figure out how to pay my fair so I just didn't, and no one seemed to mind. We toddled off to a graffiti filled wasteland of tracks and tunnels about halfway to my destination and the trolley just stopped. Everyone looked confused.  I looked around and saw a lineup of trams in front and then behind us, all stopped and flashing 'non en servicio' signs. People mumbled, shrugged, and shuffled out onto the tracks and slowly dispersed like teenagers after someone's parents shut down a big shaker. 

Suddenly my suitcase set up didn't seem so fantastic. Trying to drag my rolling universe over tracks, curbs, cobblestones and potholes while dodging traffic in a skiddy area, I  searched for a taxi stand.  I found one, gave the address and we careened off through a windy maze streets. When we were getting close to our target a uniformed polizziotto appeared to shoo us away. The street between us and where we needed to go was closed.  No sooner had I offered to get out and walk the last chunk when a chatter of hail hit the windshield. My cabbie pointed at the thermometer gage showing a balmy 10 degrees Celsius, shaking his head and saying 'this is crazy!', but with the same resigned acceptance of the evacuees from the tram.  It escalated into the wildest pelting I think I have ever seen. And then, by the time I pulled my camera out to video it, it was over.  He insisted on getting me safely yo my door, helped me in, and up I went to the fabulous and adorable apartment of Virginia, my host, which I will sketch tonight as I drink the fantastic bottle of wine I bought for three dollars at the little store on the corner. 

I think I like my new country :).