Thursday, September 15, 2011

A Train Ride to the Ancient Greek City of Selinunte on the Coast of Sicily, Italy


Journal Excerpt - April 22, 1976

The train ride to Selinunte, an ancient Greek city located on Sicily's southern coast, was quiet - we read most the way. When we got off the train people stared and several men attempted to find us hotel rooms. Finally, with no luck, we decided to return to the station and wait for the next train, frustrated with full bladders.

Suddenly, a girl came running up to us yelling, "Selinunte! Selinunte!" We both shook our heads as she and the people with her helped us into their car. We told them we wanted to stay in a 'pensione economique' which turned out to be their home and an incredible experience.

They treated us with such hospitality, as if they'd known us all their lives - a mother, father, sister, brother, and two friends. We were well fed and well cared for, "Mangia! Mangia!" they kept saying.

Cetty puzzles me and Nicholas amuses - he's so full of life and mischief and, unlike his sister, seems to have been allowed more space to explore himself.

After having talked to Cetty (we had been hoping to find an Italian woman to ask questions about the men and their attitudes). We learned that it is highly expected that the woman be a virgin when she's married and, afterwards, should the man choose to go out with other women the wife may often excuse this behavior in her own often by simply acknowledging that, "He's an egotist!"

The man's job is usually one of financial support and the woman's of child support. Not to say that the man isn't a good father or the woman a good worker but rather that their established roles are usually accepted.

Our trip to the visit the archeological site of Selinunte's ancient, stone walled temples was a highlight of our travels. It's so undeveloped you can really get the feeling of what it must have been like more than two and half thousand years ago. Wildflowers were growing everywhere and seeing these monuments situated by the sea was extraordinary.

April 23, 1976

The train ride from Selinunte was beautiful. The hills rolling magestically in green, brown, darks blending with lights. And, flowers everywhere! The small flowers covering the hillside were the most lovely and came in variations of yellow, purple, blue, and red all blending together to make a family. I'm glad now we came to Sicily and our course seems to make sense; having come from Naples - down around the boot. And, we kicked the boot!

Sicilians are a proud people and it is important that they distinguish for the visitor that there is a difference between Italy and Sicily which they regard as a separate country with its own language, attitudes and, in some ways, lifestyle. Of course, the north and south retain their animosity towards one another in a more class conscious way.

I found it interesting to observe the small town train stations. Oftentimes, people on the trains will hang out the windows to ask for 'aqua' from a nearby pump, to talk to those standing in the station or, as happened yesterday, to purchase food, i.e., the man who bought some sweet smelling onions.

The train yesterday was only two cars; no one bothered us and we were left to gaze in wonder at the magnificent scenery rolling past us in glorious colors.

The bus ride up into Agrigento is one I shall never forget as we were the only women among a few middle-aged, and quite jolly, men. English music was blaring and Italian words flying around accompanied by the usual disorganized chaos but we finally got there.

I cleaned out my art supplies - in the plastic bag where I keep them. Charcoal and purple paint had made quite a mess and made me realize that I must start my artwork again.

Sicilia in the springtime is graced with the smell of flowers, air pure with the gaiety of children's voices. But, in some ways it is special, holding an old world flavor to be equaled in no other place. While riding the trains or even in the busy sections of towns (ie., Agrigento) it is not uncommon to see the old men with their donkeys laden down - carrying goods from the farms to the markets. Everything is so green + fertile.
 
I would have to say the 'real' Italy for me began as the train pulled onto the ferry and we made our way across the Strait of Messina  to what was about to be the most enlightening part of our journey.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Souls of September

 

Mixed Media on Canvas, 2001



 Exhibition: 2002, REACTIONS, Global 911 Project, Exit Art/The First World Gallery, New York, NY 

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Paris Landscape


View over weathered bookstall, Paris, France, 2001

I was interested in capturing this unusual perspective of a seemingly
bleak, rugged terrain leading towards the Eiffel Tower.


Sunday, September 4, 2011

Figurative Paintings and Drawings, 2009



Intruders
Graphite on Paper, 2009
Untitled
Watercolor and Ink on Paper, 2009
The Faithful
Mixed Media on Paper, 2009
Untitled
Watercolor and Ink on Paper, 2009
Untitled
Watercolor and Graphite on Paper, 2009
American Dream
Graphite and Crayon on Paper, 2009




The Last Tower
Acrylic on Board, 2009
Resilient Nature
Watercolor on Paper, 2009
Tipping Point
Mixed Media on Paper, 2009
























Saturday, September 3, 2011

A Moveable Feast


I took this photo in April of a man sitting under some blossoming trees beside Notre Dame
as I wandered around  Paris lost in every moment of adventure and discovery...


I just re-read Hemingway's, A Moveable Feast after thirty years. I was motivated to revisit his expatriate experience of the 20's in Paris after visiting the Steins Collect Matisse, Picasso, and the Parisian Avant-Garde exhibit at SFMOMA as well as the Gertrude Stein exhibit at the SF Contemporary Jewish Museum.

As an artist and writer, I would have enjoyed living the expatriate life in Paris during the 20's and 30's. Reading the book was a much different experience this time than three decades ago. But, the last paragraph rings as true for me today as it did in the late 70's:

"There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy."
                                                                                Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast




In Memory of Deborah Nourse Dubs

Escape from Dubrovnik

Journal Excerpt - June 17, 1976

This day will remain in my memory forever. The four of us had the whole day to play until we had to catch the boat to Dubrovnik. Wine flowed like a waterfall; eating peanuts on the dock and Jim surprised us with sugared donuts from the bakery - to my amazement they had holes in them! In Greece?!? After awhile, time started moving faster - souvlaki, more wine, and ouzo! Time unimportant but so important! The boat would leave at eight o'clock. Rushing around getting passports stamped; buying more peanuts and wine. And, yet the hilarity was only beginning. Jim and Joran came on the boat to say their goodbyes but little did they know that they were going to Yugoslavia along with us and had left their passports back in the tents on Pelekas Beach. Perhaps, it was the ouzo or Jim's half-assed statement that he would need to be more intelligent than the woman he married that pushed the boat off for Dubrovnik without so much as a second announcement. We barely heard the first! The only horns blowing were in our heads as the docks of Corfu slowly began to crawl into the distance. What an adventure! It must be such spontaneity as this that is the fruit of life. Running frantically through the boat's corridors in a futile attempt to find a room while trying to hide from the authorities. Finally, Jim and I spending the night in one of the lifeboats hanging over the Adriatic as we sailed towards the medieval town of Dubrovnik on the Croatian coast.

Our boat docks in Dubrovnik - June 18, 1976

Mood - a bit on the nervous side contemplating our friends escape from the Yugoslavian police - communist state; all somewhat dramatic in my own mind. We disembarked without Jim and Joran after giving them a location of where we could meet and saying our goodbyes one more time. The authorities checked our passports twice and then we walked over to the exchange office for money and waited. After about an hour we were coming from the Tourist Bureau when I looked across the street to see Jim and Joran walking carefreely and smiling wide - free!

Sometime later I received a letter from Jim explaining that he and Joran had been captured by the communist police and imprisoned. He then went on to describe how he had made a guitar out of the bedsprings in his cell. I was upset to hear that he and Joran had endured such difficulties, especially in a communist country from which they might not escape. After our return to the states I received a letter from Jim. He was back home in Woodland, Washington. I was so relieved that he was safe! Later, he called me in San Francisco and admitted that he'd made everything up. At the time, I was angry and our brief relationship ended. But now, decades later, I realize how foolish and gullible I was back then and but will always have great memories of that adventurous time.

Corfu (Kondokali)

 Journal Excerpt - June 13, 1976

There's been a full moon these last couple of days; and I'm feeling, as usual, a bit restless, tense, irritable, excitable - an intense bit of everything. Looking forward to Dubrovnik and, of course, today. Left Corfu town http://www.holidaycorfu.org/ for the youth hostel here. Our first night was crazy. Lots of young people dancing beneath a full moon. I could see the reeds of grass shadowed before the sky - old moon making silhouettes of my friends. Switzerland rode his bike all the way here. And, to India. The French girl was so nice. Suggested Montpelier for art school, said Aix has a lot of cultural events but now is mostly bourgeoisie and students. I'll just have to see when I get there.

Yesterday rented motorbikes and explored the island. So incredible! Ahhh, yes...Shakespeare, you had it right when you wrote the Tempest. I commend you ever so highly. Here's to Prospero and here's to Ariel! Olive trees, cyprus, and lovely ferns. The water, crystal clear. Rock like a God jutting out into the indigo depths. I felt so like a bird winding down around the mountain paths - at times it was a bit rough. I loved it! The beauty assaulted my senses; my senses gave way and I could breathe, at last, the sweet breath of freedom.

          "...take off these clothes, leave your boat for the winds to play with, and swim for your life
           to the Phaeacian coast, where deliverance awaits you."
                                                                                           Homer: The Odyssey, Book V