Wednesday, March 7, 2012

A taste of home: The Guggenheim comes to Rome

Grrrrrrrrrrr!! Roy Lichtenstein, 1965. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

If you're getting a bit ODed on Italian art, if Caravaggio, Tintoretto, Guercino and all the Renaissance masters are getting you down, if you're an American, like me, living in Rome and trying to make sense of this crazy country, and just need a little bit of home so that things will make sense again, then have I got an exhibit for you! (There's always something on in Rome to solve any problem!)

Untitled (Green Silver), Jackson Pollock, 1949. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

60 works from the Solomon R Guggenheim Museum in New York and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice are on display at the Palazzo delle Esposizioni. And even though Italian art could never, ever get me down, and even though Abstract Expressionism will never make things make sense to me, I enjoyed the exhibit nonetheless.

Untitled, Mark Rothko, 1947. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York
As post-war American art is really not my forte, I will not pretend to wax philosophical about it, but I will offer a couple of words about the exhibit. It covers 5 major genres of 20th century art: Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art, Minimalism, Post-Minimalism/Conceptual Art and Photorealism. The first three exhibition rooms are dedicated to Abstract Expressionism, and thereafter there is one room dedicated to each genre.


Untitled, Mark Rothko, 1942. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

The works on display date from 1945 to 1980 and the exhibit seeks to fully explore the artistic movements of the American Avant-guard during a time in which the United States became one of the most important centers for the creation and promotion of new art.
Orange Disaster no. 5, Andy Warhol, 1963. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York
I must admit I liked the Pop Art and the Photorealism works well and above the rest. That probably says something about my lack of imagination or education, or both I expect! This gumball one fascinates me. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I had a gumball machine (a real one that you had to put pennies in) when I was a little girl, and it must take me back. I just want to dive right in to all its colorful, sugary goodness. I was fascinated by how realistic these paintings are, how much some of them look like photographs. Not this one nearly as much as some of the others.

Gum Ball no. 10: "Sugar Daddy", Charles Bell, 1975. Solomon R Guggenheim Museum, New York

If you're American and a bit starved for some home-cooked art, or if like me American Avant-guard art is anything but familiar, either way, you'll enjoy this visually stunning and thought provoking exhibit. See my Exhibits on Now page for the whens and wheres.


All images provided courtesy of Azienda Speciale Palaexpo
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Monday, March 5, 2012

Photographs by Andrea Pacanowski: you won't believe your eyes

Hello my sweet bloglings, have I got a treat for you today! A brand new exhibit opened this past Friday at the Museum of Rome in Trastevere. On display are 40 works by Roman contemporary photographer Andrea Pacanowski. One look at these images will send your mind swirling in a kaleidoscope of colors, but there's something else, something you won't believe.


The title of the exhibit is: Before me: the crowd and the religious experience. I agree with you, that doesn't translate very well. All'infuori di me (meaning literally 'besides me' or 'except for me') is a quote from the first commandment: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me". Folla does mean crowd, but it is a strong word, could even be translated as mob in certain cases.


The photos were captured the holiest cities of the world's major monotheistic religions, mostly Jerusalem, Fez and Rome. The subject of every work is a religious mass, a large group of people coming together for prayer, worship or ritual. But what sets Pacanowski's photos apart is not their subject matter or their composition, or the glorious colors he captures. It is the almost unbelievable fact that he uses no post-production techniques of any kind. Let me say that again:


He uses no post-production techniques of any kind. Not only that, each of the images is captured with old fashioned film. Absolutely nothing digital about these photographs.


I'm guessing your reaction is like mine when I saw these photos for the first time: disbelief. But it's true. Then how? How did he do it? Well I was tempted to ask him just that when I saw him at the inauguration, but I was overcome by a rare bout of shyness, and a worry that I hadn't read the press release thoroughly, so not wanting to embarrass myself, I kept my mouth shut.


After a bit of post-exhibit studying, I found out his secret. (Spoiler alert, if you'd prefer to visit the exhibit without knowing, stop reading now!)


Each photograph is merely a reflection of an image. None of the subjects were shot directly. Some kind surface, such as canvas, wood or glass, was applied with either chalk, paint, silicone or some other substance, and then scratched or in other ways manipulated. Then the prepared surface was set up in such a way that it caught the reflection of the subject and voilà.


These mesmerizing photos look at once like watercolors, complete abstract art and impressionist paintings. Like impressionist art, many of them have to be looked at from several steps back to be able to recognize the subject. But by studying them close up, you are able to guess at some of the particulars of the preparatory technique, which is every bit as fascinating.


A tiny computer screen will never do justice to these amazing photos, so do yourself a favor and go see this astounding exhibit in person. See my Exhibits on Now page for visiting information.


I will leave you with the capolavoro of the exhibition. At first you may simply see a Catholic procession and nothing else. But look a little closer, or, on second thought, look a little further away. Once you see it you won't be able to imagine how you missed it before.



All images copyright Andrea Pacanowski and provided courtesy of Zètema Press Office.

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Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Procrastination and over-sharing: a blogger's dilemma

I woke up this morning to a love note (complete with stick-figure drawing) from the Maritino in honor of our nine-monthiversary. (I guess we're still in that annoying honeymoon phase.) In addition to making me giddy and teary at the same time, it reminded me it's time for another wedding post! (I missed this little tradition last month).



When I first got the idea of sharing little tidbits of my wedding on the 29th of each month, I thought I would be creating light-hearted posts about my many Rome-inspired DIY projects, or at most sharing funny anecdotes about the challenges of planning a bi-cultural wedding. But as usual I started over thinking it. I thought it would be cool to tell the back story of what brought me to the altar (alongside the greatest man alive), and this included the telling of what brought me to Italy, since if I hadn't moved to Italy, it's highly unlikely I would have met said greatest man. Before I knew it I was writing about my great-great-grandparents and the hand of fate that led me to come here, and if any of you have been following this ambling string of posts (anyone?), I'm sure you're wondering when I'm going to get to the point.

Well, I've been putting it off actually. You see, despite writing a blog (and we all know only narcissists who love revealing all of the vile and personal details of their lives to total strangers write blogs), I've been hesitant to begin to reveal what I know will not just be musings about garters and flowers, but what is actually a deeply personal and probably excessively sentimental story. It's a story I want to tell, but part of me feels incredibly silly, revealing my girlish ideas about destiny and love. And beyond that, does anybody out there actually care to read it?

Ah, it's been a long day, and the hour hand is sneaking closer and closer to twelve... I am about to let myself off the hook for this month. Just too sleepy to open up my diary for the world to read tonight. Besides, I've got to post on the 29th, haven't I? (Excuses, excuses.)

So, dearest bloglings, I apologize for the lack of content in this post, but it has given me the courage to tell you a story, so stay tuned and you'll hear it next month (that is, unless I can think up another story about my ancestors to tell you instead). I thank you for your patience with me. Goodnight.
 
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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Antique Italian Maps at the Vittoriano

Le speranze del Bepi pel prossimo cinquantenario, Anonymous, L'Asino. 1911

I warn you now, dearest bloglings, the Pines of Rome is going to get a bit exhibit-heavy in the next few days. There are just so many amazing mostre on right now! One in particular, free of charge and hosted at the Complesso del Vittoriano, took me three weeks to see because of two weekend snowstorms in Rome that saw nearly every site in the city closed all weekend.

Italian Panorama, Anonymous, 1861

I finally had a chance to visit this small but lovely exhibit weekend before last, Antica Cartografia d'Italia. Beautiful detailed maps dating from the 1500s onward are on display, making for a lovely and enjoyable pre-lunch outing. In addition to maps, illustrated cover pages of antique atlases are also on display.

Sexta Europae Tabula, Silvano Bernardo, 1511

This exhibit was a real treat for me due to my life-long love of maps. I inherited this passion from my father, and I can spend hours pouring over them. My favorite are city maps, especially when they allow me to study how that particular city has changed and expanded over time, as well as how they have stayed the same. Alas, very few city maps are to be seen at this exhibit, but the region and country maps are nevertheless absorbing.

Italian Unity, Map of Italy, Pinot and Segaire. ca 1861

By far the most amusing and enlightening maps on view at this exhibit are the comical ones, most of which depict Europe during World War I, although some date back to the late 1800s. We've all seen and laughed over the clever and often spot-on images like the ones below by Yanko Tsvetkov that depict Europe or the world according to specific groups or nationalities.

Europe according to Italians, by Yanko Tsvetkov

Europe according to Americans, by Yanko Tsvetkov

Europe according to the Vatican, by Yanko Tsvetkov

But who knew this type of satirical map dated back at least 150 years? The main difference is that the old Italian ones are even more astute and more artistically rendered. (Please forgive the quality of the next four photos, I took them myself.)

Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark! Johnson, Riddle and Co. 1914

The map above depicts Europe at the onset of World War One with the various countries depicted in canine form while Russia literally steam-rolls in. Germany and Austria are tethered together as Britain releases his mighty fleet of ships. Spain is still bullfighting and Italy is a pistol-weilding carabiniere.

Europe in 1914, B. Crité, 1914.

The map above is dominated by the Tsar of Russia. I love that nothing is going on in Finland except a few bears prowling around, while Sweden and Norway look on calmly and the Austro-Hungarian Empire is already a graveyard (literally).

Kill that Eagle, Anonymous, European Revue, 1914

Kill that Eagle shows a female but nevertheless fierce France attempting to pierce the German eagle, with Britain rolling up his sleeves to join the fight. Austria, depicted as a clown, is torn between Germany and Yugoslavia and looks in terror as the Russia literally bears down upon him. Spain and Scandinavia are nothing but idle spectators while Italy appears to be either singing or reciting poetry. Typical.

John Bull and his friends, Fred W. Rose, 1900

In the map above dated 1900, Russia is a menacing octopus strangling Poland and Siberia with tentacles reaching from Finland to China. France, Spain and Ireland are depicted as women while the rest of Europe, a choatic mess, are weapon bearing military leaders. The cleverest detail is the red Salwar pants that illustrate Turkey, who is literally leaning on Greece.

But this one below is by far my favorite. It sums up perfectly the Unification of Italy with triumphant Giuseppe Garibaldi ousting Pope Pius IX (Sardinia) and his Papal Tiara (Corsica).

Italy, Harvey Williams, 1869

This exhibit ends 4 March, so don't tarry! Find practical information at my Exhibits on now page.

Photo sources: 5, 6, 7 by Yanko Tsvetkov
8, 9, 10, 11 by author
All other images provided courtesy of Comunicare Organizzando press office.

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Monday, February 27, 2012

Twelfth Night: Shakespeare in Rome!

There's absolutely nothing like a night at the theatre, especially one as intimate and cozy as Teatro Belli in Trastevere. (The added bonus that it's five minutes walking from my house also makes it quite attractive.) Last night I had the pleasure of seeing a dozen or so talented and mostly amateur actors treading the boards in Twelfth Night, one of Shakespeare's lesser-performed comedies.

Eternal Lines is a small English-language theatre company in Rome that puts up a few shows a year, with usually at least one by Shakespeare. For any of you out there who have seen Shakespeare translated into Italian (almost as bad as Woody Allen in Italian) you'll know how vital this company is for us Anglo-Saxon expats here in Rome. Lucky for us we can count on director Douglas Dean, veteran Shakespearean actor and regular performer at the Pendley Shakespeare Festival, to give us our at least once-yearly injection of iambic pentameter to keep our pulses steady. The fact that Dean took a part in this production was an added bonus.

Michael Fitzpatrick as Malvolio

Highlights of the show were the perfectly played combination of prissiness and ridiculousness of Michael Fitzpatrick as a besotted Malvolio, Rishad Noorani's smug yet likable Duke Orsino and Carolyn Gouger as the saucy and scheming maid Maria. But hands down the most brilliant and enjoyable moments of the night were brought to you by James Butterfield as Sir Andrew Aguecheek and director Douglas Dean as Sir Tobias Belch. Dean and Butterfield's combined energy electrified the stage, their timing was impeccable and their delivery spot-on, every time. They played off each other marvelously and it was a shame every time they walked off stage.

James Butterfield, Douglas Dean and Shane Hartnett up to no good
James Butterfield as Sir Andrew


A few commendable Italian actors, notably Francesca Albanese as Olivia, are to be congratulated for giving credible and fluent performances. In the realm of Shakespeare this is no easy task when English is your first language, much less your second.

Francesca Albanese as Olivia
The most surprising performance of the night was by Micky Martin playing Feste, the rambunctious fool who, I must admit, began the show by grating on my nerves with his over-the-top antics. He astonishingly went on to play the mandolin and even the harp with skill and musicality, his singing voice surprisingly clear. By the end he had won the audience's hearts with his passionate playing, off-color jokes and boisterous physical comedy, which, when you think about it, is exactly the role a fool is meant to play. I was doubly impressed when I learned all three of the songs he performed were also his own compositions.

Micky Martin as Feste

Hartnett, Dean and Carolyn Gouger as Maria
Angelo Esposito as Sebastian and Emma Lo Bianco as Viola.








A marvelous night was had by all, and really, with cross-dressing, mistaken identities, forged love letters, pratical jokes, dueling cowards and unrequited love, how could you expect anything less? Twelfth Night may have closed its run, but there is more to come from Eternal Lines. Their next production, Waiting for the Parade will be playing 17-22 April at Teatro San Genesio in Prati.

All photos by Julia Charity and posted with permission.

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Friday, February 24, 2012

Tintoretto arrives in Rome

I'll never forget the first time I saw a Tintoretto painting. I was in Venice for Carnival with an old friend nearly ten years ago, and we decided to visit the Scuola Grande di San Rocco. I was blown away by the immense output of this prolific painter. His works seemed to cover every wall and ceiling in each one of the countless rooms. The drama, the color, the detail; it was dazzling. Now, I have to admit, all those years ago I was not the formidable Italian art expert I am today (I would put a winky face here to insure that my written sarcasm was recognized as such, but I cannot abide emoticons in anything but text messages, and not much there, so I'll just have to hope my facetiousness came across nonetheless).

Susanna and the elders, Tintoretto, ca 1555. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Embarrassing as it is to admit, at that time I had only ever heard of the Scuola Grande di San Rocco because of Woody Allen. In one of the lesser acclaimed (but perhaps my personal favorite) of his films, Everyone says I love you (1996), Allen travels to Venice where he tries to impress a beautiful art historian (Julia Roberts) by showing off how well he knows her favorite painter, Tintoretto. In reality he just rattles off some lines he has memorized from an art book. I know that must sound like a pretty lame plot (it's just a sub-plot, I assure you) but it was executed with such classic Allen style that it makes me laugh just thinking about it. The scene in question takes place at, you guessed it, the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, and as a life-long Woody Allen fan, I made sure to visit. Little did I know how right Julia Roberts('s character) was about Tintoretto...

Self portrait as a young man, Tintoretto, 1548. Victoria and Albert Museum, London
The newest exhibit in Rome, opening tomorrow at the Scuderie del Quirinale, is also the first major monographic exhibition of the works of Tintoretto in Italy. Like Guercino, Tintoretto was also nicknamed for a peculiarity: his father was a dyer, or tintore, hence Jacopo Robusti (or Comin, as his true last name has recently been discovered to have been) became known as the "little dyer". Not unlike Michelangelo, who claimed to have drunk in his talent for cutting stone with his wet nurse's milk (she had come from a long line of stone masons), perhaps Tintoretto's brilliant use of color was born of his learning the art of dyeing at his father's knee. In fact, when Tintoretto was only 14, his father noticed his natural ability at painting and sent him to toil in the great Titian's studio. He only lasted ten days and the master kicked him out. Some say he was jealous of the boy painter, others claim it more likely he saw his work as so radically different that there was no point in him taking the younger artist on as a student. Tintoretto turned out to be a mostly self-trained artist, perhaps due to this early rejection.

Jesus among the doctors of the church, Tintoretto, ca 1542. Museo del Duomo di Milano
 35 of Tintoretto's works are displayed, along with several others by his mentors and contemporaries, such as Titian, Parmigianino, Veronese and El Greco. The majestic (and enormous) work below opens the exhibit. It tells the story (taken from Jacobus de Voragine's medieval Golden Legend) of a slave about to be martyred for venerating the relics of a saint. St. Mark (patron saint of Venice) intervenes and renders the slave invincible. All weapons used against him are seen broken to bits. It is a powerful work to open the exhibit, but I feel that it might have been better saved until the end, as nothing else in the exhibit matches it.

The Miracle of the slave, Tintoretto, 1548. Galleria dell'Accademia, Venice.
A question that struck me when I saw this: Are there any other works (before the 20th century) that depict a saint (even a gloriously intervening one) in this position? Literally head over heels? I know Chagall got into that, but I don't think I've ever seen it in any of the great Italian masters' work (or Dutch for that matter!). Please illuminate me if I'm wrong!


Venus, Vulcan and Cupid, Tintoretto, ca 1550-1555. Galleria Palatina, Florence.

About halfway through my visit, the exhibit's curator Vittorio Sgarbi sauntered past with a gaggle of journalists in tow, each one straining to get close enough to scribble down his every word. Not too keen to join the crush, the only thing I was able to hear was him calling one particular work (Vulcan surprising Venus with Mars, not pictured) as Berlusconiano, because it was about "sex and not love". Not exactly an inspiring comment! So without the tutoring I was lucky to get at the Guercino exhibit, and with a lack of much scholarship on my part of the work of Tintoretto, part of me is tempted (simply for entertainment value, of course) to quote Woody Allen quoting that art book:

"The rapidity of his brush strokes, the chiaroscuro, outbursts of color, his capacity for controlled gesture..."

"How could I not appreciate a man who was short in stature but with a proud obstinate nature who painted outside the academic conventions of 16th century Venice?" (what I can't transcribe is his proud little giggle at his own brilliance; you'll just have to see the film for that gem). By the way, I have scoured the internet for a clip of that scene but I could only find it in Italian, and another thing I cannot abide is Woody Allen dubbed in Italian. So I will spare you. Oh, right, I'm supposed to be writing about Tintoretto, not Woody Allen. Where was I?
Meeting of Tamar and Judah, Tintoretto, ca 1555-59. Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

This action-packed Last Supper was recently restored on occasion of the exhibit, and it is fascinating (although I preferred the other version on display next to it, not pictured), but my question is, who is sleeping through all this ruckus under Jesus' left arm?

Last Supper, Tintoretto, 1568-69. Chiesa di San Polo, Venice

Unlike most of the other paintings, I didn't particularly like the one below. To be honest, the only thing that came to mind when I saw it was, I really hope heaven won't be so crowded! (I realize this is doubtless a blasphemous thought in many ways.)

The Crowning of the Virgin or Paradise, Tintoretto, ca 1588. Musée du Louvre, Paris

This formidable artist's work can possibly best be summed up in his own words, by the sign he had hanging over his studio, "Il disegno di Michelangelo e il colorito di Tiziano" (the design of Michelangelo and the coloring of Titian). He apparently didn't think too little of himself!

Self Portrait, Tintoretto, 1587. Musée du Louvre, Paris.

If Woody Allen's and my words have left you thirsting for more substantial insight into the work of this "deep genius (the deepest)", there will be four opportunities to hear a real expert talk about some of the works on display. On 9 and 23 March as well as 4 and 18 May (all Fridays) at 7pm, lectures will be held in situ to explore four different paintings (one per lecture) by art historian and Tintoretto expert Anna Maria Panzera (who may or may not be played by Julia Roberts!) Admission to the lecture is included with purchase of exhibition ticket. I wouldn't miss it! Find information on visiting the show at my Exhibits on now page.

All images provided courtesy of the press office of Le Scuderie del Quirinale

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Sunday, February 19, 2012

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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