Carnival in Rome: Commedia dell'Arte in Piazza Navona!

Just a few more days until Carnevale is over and interminable Lent will be upon us! In fact this is the last weekend, and as rain is predicted for the next few days, I recommend you hurry to Piazza Navona or one of the other spots in the city where festivities are taking place today, while the sun lasts!

I happened upon this troupe of Commedia dell'Arte players yesterday afternoon and was thoroughly enchanted. Watching them ride around in their horse-drawn cart, singing Neapolitan songs, presenting puppet shoes and putting on theatrics with baroque palaces as a backdrop was enough to make me feel I had stepped back in time. Their play is called Gli innamorati immaginari (Imaginary lovers) and you can see it today at 10:30am and 4pm. Don't forget your mask and confetti! Arlequino, Pulcinella and Colombina await you!

All photos by author

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The lost art of writing by hand

For the past few weeks, my laptop has been in the shop, leaving one computer to share with the Maritino. As a result, I've had to go back to doing something I haven't done in ages: writing on paper. And not just grocery lists or post-it reminders, but actual blog posts and articles (including this one!), written out longhand to be typed up later. At first it seemed impossible. Without a keyboard in front of me, I almost couldn't remember how to write, but now that I've gotten used to it, I'm not sure I want to go back.

There's almost nothing that makes me want to write more than a neat row of freshly sharpened pencils, the sound of lead dragging across paper and a desk littered with eraser dust. What is more rewarding that seeing a blank page fill up with your own handwriting?

So perhaps it's not a coincidence that this week I also happened to write three letters. That's right, letters. Not emails, not IMs, not Facebook messages. LETTERS. For my younger readers, or those with short memories, a letter is a handwritten message on one or more sheets of paper, folded and placed in an envelope with a stamp attached. After writing the home address of the recipient on the front, you place it in something called a mailbox, and as if by magic, in just a few days, it will arrive at the recipient's home.

With all of the exceedingly convenient and instantaneous modes of communication available today, it seems pointless to send a letter in the mail, not to mention expensive (it now costs €1.60 to send a letter from Italy to the US). But there's just nothing in the world like it.

A smallish envelope amongst the bills and statements catches your eye. The handwriting is so familiar. You flip it over: it's from her (your oldest friend/your globe-trotting cousin/your favorite professor) [insert favored pen pal here]. Some people don't even wait to get inside, but tear it open on the spot, hungrily eating up the words off the page. Others, the pleasure-delayers out there like one longtime correspondent of mine, save it for later, when they can put on some Chopin and sit with a cup of cocoa and savor it. I do both, depending on my mood.

But I haven't done much of either lately, because hand-written letters are quickly going the way of the Betamax. They are too expensive, too time consuming, too slow. In this virtual world, where events are summed up in 140 characters or less, who has time to get out pen and paper and compose an entire letter? And more to the point, who would ever write back?

Well, I took a leap of faith and wrote three letters this weekend. One to an old friend and longtime correspondent in Seattle, one to a former colleague and kindred spirit in London, and a third to my 12-year-old niece and future prima ballerina in Idaho. At first it felt odd, just like my paper-and-pencil article writing, but I was soon back in the swing of it.

A stack of letters from my 12-year-old niece

The missives have been successfully deposited in the mailbox. Now let's see if any of them write back!

Any other letter writers out there? Do you like to write by hand or has it truly become a thing of the past? Am I the only one?  I'd love to hear your points of view!

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8: by author

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Happy (belated) Saint Valentine's Day, lovers!

I meant to post yesterday, something informative and well-researched  about the origins of Saint Valentine's Day and just who St. Valentine was, but somehow the day got away from me, so that post will have to wait until next year. I did, however, write a Valentine's day post for the blog of the wonderful Beehive Hotel, right here in Rome, recently named the No. 2 hotel in the world!! Linda, the owner and a friend of mine, asked me to write a post about my experiences getting married in Italy, and you can find it here.

But I can't resist sharing a photo, even though it does give away Maritino's real name, that I have tried so diligently to keep private! But as I said, I can't help but share this:

These adorable scrabble cookies were made by the newest baking sensation to hit Rome: Calliope Cakes. I will do a more thorough post about this amazing cake- cookie- and cupcake-baker soon, but these Valentine's day cookies were just too wonderful not to share. Here are a few other too-adorable-to-eat but too-yummy-to-resist Valentine's day cookies by Calliope Cakes:

These cookies are so intricate and skillfully done, I just can't get enough of them!

Valentine's day may be over, but guess what, people, it's Carnevale! If there was ever an excuse to stuff yourself with sinful treats, this is it!

Photo sources: 1, by author; 2, 3 by Calliope Cakes.

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Eat, drink and be merry! Carnival in Rome!

Today is the first day of Carnival, and we all know the celebrations in Rome can't rival those Venice. In fact these days no one associates Carnival with Rome. But just a few hundred years ago (the blink of an eye in Rome-time), Rome was the place to be to celebrate this raucous, bacchanalian late-winter event.

Carnival is a ten day period (in the past it was much longer and sometimes began right after Christmas, on St. Stephen's day) that directly precedes Lent, the 40-day period in the Catholic liturgical calendar that in turn precedes Easter. In the Catholic religion, Lent is a period of sober reflection and abstinence from the earthly pleasures of life. Although today most Catholics try to give up one or two things they particularly enjoy (I always try to give up sugar or chocolate), traditionally it was a time of general fasting, during which alcohol, meat and rich foods were not consumed. Carnival was the last hurrah before this strict period of restraint, and in fact the name, Carnevale in Italian, derives from the phrase "farewell to meat" as this was the last chance to eat it for a while. It could also be translated as "farewell to the flesh," and in fact, part of the reason masks were worn was to facilitate marital infidelity and other no-nos.

Detail from Carnival in Rome, Johannes Lingelbach, ca 1650

In Rome, a city that was at times repressed due to papal influence (I say "at times" because certain popes were more lascivious than kings), Carnival was celebrated with particular exuberance. (Carnival celebrations have also been linked to pre-Christian winter festivities such as Saturnalia.) In addition to masked balls, theatrical spectacles, bull fights and general carousing, the most popular pastimes took place on Via del Corso.

Roman Carnival, Ippolito Caffi

Previously called Via Lata, this wide straight road leading from Piazza Venezia to Piazza del Popolo has been an important thoroughfare in Rome since ancient times, connecting with Via Flaminia and continuing into northern Italy. During the Renaissance and beyond, it became the place to be seen during Carnival. Horse-drawn coaches would drive up and down the street, with people in garish costumes and elaborate masks greeting each other and often playing pranks. The wealthy citizens would rent rooms in the palaces that faced Via del Corso to watch the spectacle from above.

Carnival on the Corso, Ippolito Caffi

More exciting still, Via del Corso was also the site of many races (in fact, the street's name was changed for this very reason, corso in Italian means race.) Most famous was the corso dei berberi, the Race of the Berbers, when riderless Berber horses would race from the top to the bottom of Via del Corso. The empty saddles of the unfortunate creatures were studded with nails to make them run faster.

The retaking of the Berbers, Achille Pinelli, 1832

Much more hideous was the Race of the Bi-peds, in which the city's Jews, handicapped and other disadvantaged members of the population were forced to race the same street while objects were thrown at them from the jeering crowds. These barbaric traditions were outlawed in the 19th century and the 17th century respectively. The celebrations culminated on Mardi Gras, just like they do today in New Orleans and Rio de Janeiro, but the Roman grand finale was a candle race down Via del Corso in which the goal was to keep your candle lit while trying to snuff out the candles of everyone around you. No wonder there were so many fires in Rome!

The Candle race on Via del Corso, Ippolito Caffi, ca 1850

Today Roman Carnevale has become mostly a holiday for children when they dress up in costume, throw confetti and are paraded around town by their proud parents. But Rome is trying to revive the ancient traditions (without the cruel races, thankfully!) and this year a record number of events are on offer, from exhibits, to dance and music performances to balls, and most notably several equestrian shows. Events kick off tonight at the historic center of the Carnival action, Piazza del Popolo, with a performance by the orchestra of the Opera di Roma.

Visit the official site of Carnevale Romano, with a detailed list of events.

Photos 1 and 7 by Robbi Huner and Barbara Roppo, courtesy of Zétema Press Office
Other photo sources: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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Caravaggio, you devil!

If Rome can't get enough of Caravaggio, you certainly can't expect me to. In fact, there's a disgraceful lack of Caravaggio in the contents of this blog. I'm going to start remedying that right now.

Love victorious, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

The Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit was set to end last weekend, but as I happily announced last week, it has been extended through mid-March! If you want to go to a Caravaggio exhibit, let me warn you right now, it isn't one! But it's still full of wonderful works of art, and beautifully curated, so I recommend it nonetheless. 

One of my favorite aspects of this exhibit was that most of the works, instead of simply hanging on the wall at eye level, have been inserted into replica altars, with faux marble and porphyry, because almost all of them are part of altarpieces. There has been some criticism that the works are displayed too high off the ground, but they were meant to be seen this way in the churches they were painted for, so in my opinion it works.

One of over 100 paintings on display is Giovanni Baglione's Sacred love conquering profane love. Actually, it's not this one below. This is his first version of the same subject. Baglione was one of the most enthusiastic followers of Caravaggio's innovative new style of naturalism plus chiaroscuro, a style that was bursting onto the Roman scene in the first years of the 1600s. Problem was, Caravaggio didn't like people copying his style. Apparently he didn't agree with the adage that the greatest form of admiration is imitation.

According to Peter Robb (whose book M: The man who became Caravaggio I am currently absorbed in), this painting was greatly inspired by, even a challenge to, Caravaggio's most celebrated and notorious work of the moment, Love victorious (pictured above), albeit a completely different take on the subject of love. In fact, Baglione's divine love was seen as a kind of antithesis to Caravaggio's shocking earthly love.

Here you see sacred love in full armour, breaking up what appears to be a tryst between profane love and the devil himself. Robb describes it as "a sanctimonious courtier's appeal to the counter reformation properties," adding that "on this level at least, it worked brilliantly." When the work was enthusiastically received by the cardinal who had commissioned it --and Baglione generously rewarded for his work-- Caravaggio was understandably miffed. According to Robb, Caravaggio considered Baglione's painting "at once cheaply derivative and smugly critical of his own most daring work." The fact that Caravaggio was having his paintings rejected right and left because he refused to censor his own art to pander to the church couldn't have helped matters.

Sacred love conquers profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

But as frustrated as Caravaggio must have been, Baglione's next painting was even more insulting. Baglione had been criticized for depicting sacred love in full armour, so he reworked the painting with two major differences: he changed the angel's outfit to what Robb describes as "a hideously fancy and fussy girdle" but more provocatively, the devil is no longer turning his head in defeat, but looking straight out at the viewer with the unmistakable features of Caravaggio himself. (The second version is the one that appears in this exhibit.)

Considering the conspicuous position of these two would-be lovers, and the fact that Caravaggio's recent Love victorious had been modelled by his well-known boy-toy Cecco Boneri, with this work Baglione was attempting to smear Caravaggio's already fragile reputation with the stain of sodomy.

Sacred love conquering profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602-3, Palazzo Barberini, Rome

Below you can see the clear resemblance of Caravaggio's most famous self-portrait, painted ten years prior, with Baglione's devil version of Caravaggioabove.

Detail from Sick Bacchus (self-portrait), Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593, Galleria Borghese, Rome

If you think Caravaggio took this insult lying down, you don't know art history's favorite bad boy very well. Caravaggio and a couple of his friends retaliated by writing a couple of virulent and vulgar poems that offended Giovanni Baglione so gravely that he took them all to court for slander. Caravaggio ended up serving a few weeks in the Tor di Nona prison followed by a lengthy house arrest. Only his high connections saved him from being sent to the galleys.

Peter Robb recounts this and many more of Caravaggio's exploits in his engrossing book (along with vivid descriptions of all his works) so I highly recommend you pick it up. (It has recently be rereleased with the new title M: The Caravaggio enigma.) You will also find both of the comic and insulting poems, which I would love to post here, but I'm waiting until I can find the original Italian versions. Let me just say that the first one is called Gian Coglione.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

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Roma in Bianco: Snow in Rome, part 2

That last time it snowed in Rome, it was the first time in 24 years. That was less than two years ago. No one was expecting it again so soon, especially because, as they say, a Roma nevica ogni morte di papa ("in Rome it snows every death of a pope"--not really translatable. Similar to our "once in a blue moon".) Just like last time, I took about a zillion photos, so here are some highlights.

 

This is what we woke up to. It was so quiet and peaceful.

 Belli in the snow.

Maritino was the first to venture out and captured this gorgeous shot of the Tiber Island.

 

St. Peter's is so high, there's snow on it!

 Trastevere in the snow

 I didn't realize that I wanted to go sledding until I saw all the other kids doing it (in the Circus Maximus).

 Lots of snowball fights going on at the Colosseum.

 Can barely recognize the Roman Forum.

Lovely, snowy pines of Rome.

 I came, I saw, I got snowed on.

Pièce de resistance

Although, inch per inch we got more snow this time around (my guess is 5-6 inches, quite a lot for here) I was much more thrilled when it snowed in 2010, simply because it hadn't happened for nearly a quarter of a century. Plus, in 2010 I was out when it was (very heavily) coming down, whereas most of the snow fell over night this year. If you missed my photos from last time, when I ran to the Pantheon the moment I woke up to see the snow falling through the occulus (although my poor camera had a hard time capturing it), you can find them here.

All photos by author, author's husband or author's close friend, and posted with permission.

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