The charmed life of a foreign correspondent in Italy

Is there a journalist alive who doesn’t—at least in some small way—envy Gregory Peck’s dashing character in Roman Holiday? And it’s not just about spending 24 hours with a classy, beautiful brunette like Audrey Hepburn. What would it be like to live on Via Margutta, zip around late-1950s Rome on a Vespa, spend your evenings playing poker with the international crowd, and dash off the odd article to your paper back home?

Ah, the life of a foreign correspondent.

Well, a foreign correspondent in Italy, that is. I imagine the life of a foreign correspondent in, say, Libya or Iran (at least these days) might be slightly more dangerous and slightly less picturesque. But in Italy, can you think of a more fantastic lifestyle? Ok, ok, I’m sure it involves a good deal of work, but, oh, the payoff...

...well, you get the idea.

100 years ago, 14 foreign journalists living and working in Rome, got together in their usual haunt, Gran Caffè Faraglia in Piazza Venezia, and decided it was high time they had an official association to represent them. The Foreign Press Association was born. Today its members are numbered at 443, and hail from over 50 different countries around the world. American correspondents are outnumbered only by their German counterparts, and include one of my very favorite expat bloggers, Patricia Thomas, (Rome’s own Mozzarella Mamma herself!)

Italy as seen by the world, a new exhibit at the Ara Pacis opened last week, celebrating this important 100-year milestone. It was thrilling to see snippets of articles, headlines and magazine covers from around the world, all with the same subject: il belpaese. Some articles dated back nearly a century; others covered news stories I can well remember since my own arrival here eight years ago. 100 years of top news stories, archeological discoveries, culinary culture, destination pieces, social commentary: it’s all covered in this fascinating exhibit, the first big opening of the season.

Here are a few images from the exhibition:

Historic Archive of the first headquarters of the association

Association members in an audience with Pope John XXIII

Hitler and Mussolini, Newsweek, 1936

Il Conchiglione (The Big Shell) in the conference hall of the Foreign Press Association © Chris Warde-Jones

An article on terrorism in Italy, Der Spiegel, 1977

The death of Pope John Paul II, Paris Match, 2005

President and Mrs. Obama in an audience with Pope Benedict XVI (my photo of a photo)

I imagine it’s fascinating for Italians to witness how their country and culture is portrayed to the world at large by the pen-armed foreigners who’ve made their home here, but who nevertheless bring along their own perspective, culture and experiences. As an expat I have learned so much about my own country, simply by getting an outside look at it. This is not always pleasant. In fact, I was surprised that the inauguration was packed with Italians. I would have expected the majority of those in attendance to be the very same foreign correspondents being celebrated in the exhibit, but I rarely picked up on a foreign language or accent, although there were a few international journalistic legends (whom I would never have recognized had the Maritino not pointed them out to me).

Mayor Gianni Alemanno, Ara Pacis, © Tiffany Parks

The mayor himself was also in attendance, and I don’t mean to be mean, but this was the first time I had ever seen him live and I couldn’t stop myself humming that line from Annie (the Broadway musical, eh, NOT the film!), “What other town has the Empire State and a mayor five-foot-two?” Now, I didn’t get out my tape measure, but even standing up on the podium of the Ara Pacis, he didn’t look a hair taller than me. Rome may not have the Empire State Building, but a Fiorello Laguardia-look-alike we do have!

I learned during the press conference that the "extras" in the last scene of Roman Holiday were the actual members of Italy's Foreign Press Association in 1959! (A shocking dearth of women...) This exhibit is on for less than a month, so don’t miss it! Check out my exhibits calendar for times and dates.

 
PS After months of sporatic posting, I'm aiming to go two-for-two with a post about the new Vermeer exhibit at the Scuderie del Quirinale tomorrow, so stop by!

Photo sources: 1, 2, 

3-8 courtesy of Zetema Ufficio Stampa, 

9-10 by author, 

11

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So you want to move to Rome? My advice: do it!

I began writing this post in my head last night, as I was trying to fall asleep (the only free time I have these days, as my dearth of blog posts testifies). The idea for this post came to me on the heels of some amazing friends who have been making stops in Rome in the past weeks. Seeing Rome through fresh eyes never fails to remind me of how amazing this city is, and how unbelievably lucky I feel to live here.

View from Via dei Fori Imperiali, photo by Giulio Menna

It is so easy to get bogged down by the negative things about this city. Every city on earth has its unpleasant aspects, but Rome’s can be so glaringly obvious and pervasive (especially as one transitions from happy-go-lucky expat to permanent resident) that it is easy to lose sight of the innumerable wonderful things, the things that made most of us expats move here in the first place.

In the space of two weeks, I have been blessed by the appearances of a number of friends, none of whom live in Rome, but all of whom have a connection with it. Cristina and Tim are ex-expats, who lived here for years and were some of my first friends when I arrived. They have both moved on to have fabulous careers outside Italy, but can’t help feel that magnetic pull to allure of this city, and are even tempted, every so often, to chuck it all and come back (although –sadly for me– I know they won’t).

Another is India, a former yoga student of mine who spent 18 magical months here as an adolescent and now, at 20, wouldn’t be able to survive a year without at least one week spent in Rome. She visits every July and her enthusiasm for Rome is contagious.

And then there’s Maeve. Were it not for a blossoming opera career in New York, she would have taken up residence in this inimitable town long ago. But, as with most musicians, career comes first, and so she’s content to visit once a year, study the language and soak up the culture. Spending time with these four amazing people has renewed my delight in Rome. After a couple of months of more griping than usual about this fair city (and its ever so difficult residents), thanks to my friends I have returned to my “default setting” of being enchanted with my adopted hometown.

Detail of Villa Medici, photo by Patrizia Ferri

And this led me to think about the people I know who aren’t happy to come here only for short visits. People who, like me, can’t help but heed that insistent voice that tells us there is no other place for us, at least at this moment in time, than Rome*. That to live anywhere else would be to deny one of the deepest desires of our souls.

People like my new friend Margaret, who even as I write this is plotting her move here. Although at a completely different stage in her life than I was as I schemed to find a way to live here 8 years ago, she nevertheless reminds me of exactly how I felt when the thought of living in Rome was not yet a reality.

People like travel writer and fellow blogger Keane Li who finds charm and fascination in every angle of the city, and captures them so compellingly in his writing. He asked me recently, in a message that I have shamefully yet to reply to, what advice I could give him on how to make the transition to live here permanently. Maybe I haven’t replied because it’s a big question. There are so many things to consider, including finances, the language barrier, work permits, the bureaucratic nightmare of becoming a legal resident, the horrifying discrepancy between salaries and living expenses, not to mention the shock of up and leaving your home, job, family, friends and culture in one fell swoop.

But, unlike most big questions, this one has a short answer:

Do it.

At the risk of sounding like a decades-old marketing campaign, just do it. There will be so many people, both those who have attempted such a move and those who would never dare, who will tell you it’s not possible, or better yet, that it’s not worth it. That it’s a big risk, it’s financially draining, it stagnates your career, and so on. All this, and for what? Just to live in a foreign country? Life will still go on, just as before.

Detail of the Fountain of the Triton by Gianlorenzo Berlini, photo by SpirosK

Yes, life will go one, and sometimes more frustratingly than before (I wrote about this in a guest post not long ago) and it’s important not to imagine that life will be as easy and deliciously carefree as Woody Allen and Julia Roberts make it seem in the movies. But naysayers who get off on telling others how things can’t be done are generally just smarting because their own experiences were less than ideal.

Don’t listen to them. You have a desire, a calling, even. You can’t explain it; you just know. Don’t let anyone change your mind. Hearing other people’s experiences is necessary, but ultimately, only you know what is right for you.

I felt this unexplainable calling too, from a very young age, as I’ve written about before. I didn’t know why I was supposed to be here. I just knew that I had to come, and stay. (PS Coming is easy; it’s the staying that is the hard part.) So come I did, and let me tell you, the first year was hard, nothing like the month-long study trips I had taken years before. But I toughed it out; I just knew I was supposed to be here, and now I realize why: his name is Claudio. (Not that he’s the only reason, of course! My lifestyle here alone is enough of a reward.)

I don’t intend to suggest that everyone who moves to Rome should stay here indefinitely. Some people come for six months or a year, get their fill of gelato and amatriciana and move back home, richer and wiser for their experiences. And there are others who stay 10, 20 years, or even their whole lives. Whatever the case, if you want to be here, come. It goes without saying, be prepared. Save up some money, learn the basics of the language, have a plan for how to make money, and don’t be too flippant about legal requirements (it’s not 2005 anymore), but just come. Things will work themselves out.

Photo by Mark Turner

It won’t be without sacrifices. You may end up living on a fraction of what you are used to in your home country, and some may see this as a step down on the socio-economic ladder, but I see it as an opportunity to learn to live with less. You’re used to living in a two-storey house? Try a cozy one-bedroom for a change, or move in with roommates, making new friends in the process. Think you can’t live without your SUV? Discover the freedom of commuting by bicycle. What you will receive in cultural, gastronomic and artistic wealth will more than make up for any temporary material lack you might feel.

I truly believe that when you are doing what you are meant to be doing, things have a way of working out. Not always exactly as you had envisioned, but brilliantly nonetheless. So if you really, really want it, take the risk. Give notice. Buy those tickets.

Source

In short, just come. And be sure to look me up when you get here.

*Or Paris, or Tuscany, or Spain, or wherever it is your heart wants to be

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The Academy of Beautiful: Colors of Summer

Now, dear bloglings, before you assume I am posting about some kind of advanced esthetician training program or recommending summer nail polish shades, let me explain. 

The Accademia del Bello is a brand-new cultural center that seeks to recapture aesthetics, beauty and harmony in art. These days, beauty in art has become superfluous: much more important for works of art to express ideas, to communicate, and oftentimes to shock. An enthusiastic exhibit-goer is more likely to leave a gallery disconcerted, disoriented or even depressed than moved and uplifted. While there can be no doubt that without communication, any work of art would fall flat, that doesn't seem like an adequate reason to neglect the aesthetic aspects of art entirely.

Artist Emanuela Tamburini has for this reason created the Accademia del Bello, to remind the art-loving community of the importance of the aesthetic value of art. The Academy is a meeting place for artists as well as all art lovers, hosting themed exhibits and events, as well as offering painting and drawing courses.

I find this initiative refreshing. During my years at New England Conservatory of Music, I remember searching the listening library high and low for the most beautiful music possible. And I often felt that I had to apologize for it. "I have a preference for beautiful music," I used to say, as if I were artistically inferior to my classmates who preferred Hindemith or Berg to my beloved Debussy and Respighi. How lovely to find I'm not the only one!

The Academy's first major exhibit opens tonight with works by Rina Aloe, Wanda Bettozzi, Mario D’Imperio, Francesco Ferlisi, Donato Maiorella and Emanuela Tamburini. The Colors of Summer seeks to celebrate the beginning of the brightest and warmest season of the year with visions of forms and colors in harmony with one another. Yet each work is vastly different from the next, with a wide array of techniques, textures and colors, representing the culmination of a lifetime of experience for each of the six artists.

The exhibit opens tonight, 20 June, at 6pm and runs until 27 June, at the Accademia del Bello, on Via Gaetano Mario Columba, 23 near Via Appia Nuova (Metro Colli Albani). Open everyday from 11am to 1pm and 4pm to 7pm. Drop by tonight to see these paintings, meet the artists, and learn about the specific techniques they employ to create their work.

All images proved courtesy of the Accademia del Bello

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Six Faces across Two Continents, photographs by Phil McKinney

Oh, Bloglings, what can I say after over two months and nary a word penned? How can I ever apologize to my faithful readers? I can imagine you, desperately checking the site daily for a new post, only to have your hopes dashed by seeing, again and again, that I am neglecting you! Or, more likely, you didn't even notice my absence. Ah, well, a girl can dream. I'll try not to take it personally.

The only excuse I can give for this uncharacteristic silence is that I have had more paid writing work in the past two months than ever in my life before. That plus two jobs and the sweltering Roman heat has been enough to put the blog on pause for longer than I'd like to admit. Just as posting everyday makes me more likely to post the next day, failing to post makes it easier for me to skip a post the next day. With such a long dry spell it was going to have to take something very good and very important to get me to start writing again. Well, Bloglings, have I got a treat for you.

© Phil McKinney

This very evening, Wednesday 20 June, an exciting mini-exhibit is being presented by a brilliant, up-and-coming photographer. Phil McKinney hails from Northern Ireland and has lived all over the world, from Rome to Africa to Southeast Asia. A nutritionist who works for several UN agencies, providing valuable research and insights into the nutritional needs of the world's very poorest inhabitants, McKinney spends his free time photographing the very same people whom his work is seeking to help.**

**The photos I have posted here, however, were all shot in Rome. You'll have to come to the exhibit, or check out one of Phil's sites (see below) to see the kind of images I'm describing here.

© Phil McKinney

At Barnum Caffè near Campo de' Fiori, this evening McKinney will be presenting some of his personal favorite snapshots. Like my favorite artist Caravaggio, he has a knack for capturing his subjects' humanity. Unlike so many photographers who travel to the furthest corners of the world to photograph people from all walks of life, often never taking the time to get to know them, McKinney spends several months in each place studying and witnessing the specific problems and issues that face each of his subjects. It is this very understanding of their situation that gives him the insight to capture valuable and meaningful portraits.

© Phil McKinney

The exhibit, lasting one night only, will be particularly rewarding as the artist will be present. As I have the honor of counting him as one of my friends, I know him well enough to know he will be more than willing to illuminate these portraits will commentary on the images and his experiences in capturing them. If my hunch is correct, his photographs will soon be gracing the pages of National Geographic, so stop by to meet him to see some of his stunning images. This way you can say you knew him when, and it might be your last chance, as he is jetting off to Burma at the end of the week for his newest mission.

All photos on exhibit are also for sale, printed on high quality paper, guaranteed not to fade for 50-75 years.

Check out more of McKinney's work on his website, Chasing Phil, his blog, his Flickr page and his Facebook page.

Here are the exhibit details:
Six Faces across Two Continents (A mini exhibit and a farewell)
Wednesday, 20 June 2012, from 7pm onward
Barnum Caffè
Via del Pellegrino, 87 (near Campo de' Fiori)
Rome

Hope to see you there!

All photos copyright Phil McKinney and posted with permission.

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The many hats of Francesco Ferlisi

Hello bloglings! How I’ve missed you! I can only blame my absence on a typically chaotic Easter week and particularly debilitating allergies. I’m thinking of investing in the Kleenex company.

Nefertiti Style, Francesco Ferlisi

But I had to write today about the marvelous art opening I attended over the weekend on Via Margutta. It’s been a while since I wrote one of my street posts (if you are new to this blog, I am obsessed with discovering the meaning behind the names of Rome’s streets), and I’m thinking that Via Margutta might just be the next street I write about. It is enchanting, tucked between Via del Babuino and the Pincian Hill with a canopy of vines. But that post is for another day.

Today I am itching to write about the exhibit of paintings by Francesco Ferlisi at the private gallery Il Mondo dell’Arte on historic Via Margutta, street of artists. Ferlisi, a Sicilian-born painter active in Rome for a number of years, has been critically acclaimed across Europe and North America. His style has been described as "ironically surrealistic" and each work is deeply symbolic.

The title of this new exhibit is CopriCapi celebri. Copricapo is another word for hat in Italian (in addition to the literal cappello), from the words coprire (to cover) and capo (head). But the hats in his paintings are more than just “head-covers,” they are integral parts of the look and personality of the individual who wears them.

Capo can also mean boss, or even head of state, and the double meaning of the title refers to the fact that most of the hats depicted belong to political leaders or major players in the entertainment world. Ferlisi’s inspiration for the exhibit was not the celebrities but the hats themselves, and it is clear that the person wearing it comes second. The facial features of the wearer are often omitted, highlighting the hat, which is the real subject of each work.

God save the Queen, Francesco Ferlisi, 2011

The best part about this exhibit is that as you view the works, you will recognize the subject by their hats, not their features. Whether representing Queen Elizabeth II, Audrey Hepburn, Pope John Paul II, Marlene Dietrich or Camilla Parker Bowles, this innovative twist on portrait painting proves that what covers the head is often more recognizable than the head itself.

Audrey the Star, Francesco Ferlisi, 2011

A second section of the exhibit includes portraits of hats standing alone, that is, without a celebrity wearing them. Some are nevertheless instantly recognizable, such as the headdress of Nefertiti or the top hat of Winston Churchill, accompanied of course by his ubiquitous cigar.

You can view these fantastic and thought-provoking works (and meet the artist) at Il Monde dell'Arte gallery at Via Margutta 55, every day from 10am to 1pm and from 4pm to 7:30pm until the 22nd of April. (Closed Monday morning. Free entry.)

All images are provided courtesy of the artist and may not be reproduced. 

Via Margutta Photo source

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How I moved to Italy and married the love of my life, part 1

As you may have already guessed from the name of this blog, I love Roman pine trees. I adore them actually. I could sit and look at them for ages. Today I have come to the pines for some inspiration.

I am writing this from a bench in my favorite spot in Villa Pamphilj, what I call the pine grove, where the trees all grow in straight parallel lines. No, I didn't bring my computer to the park. I would never commit that sacrilege! I am writing this out longhand. It almost feels like I'm writing in a diary, perfect for the post I have in mind.

As you well know by now, it was my not so brilliant idea to post about my wedding every 29th of the month (because I got married on the 29th), but I quickly got overwhelmed by the back story I wanted to tell.

It started out fantastically. I had a great time writing about my ancestors, and how I feel that they have, in some strange way, guided me here. But when it came time to write about myself, I clammed up. In January I skipped the post, in February I admitted my reluctance to get too personal, but my lovely bloglings encouraged me to bag my inhibitions and open up. So here goes. (I have a feeling this is going to be long. I'll have to do it in multiple parts. Oh, how I love to draw things out. I apologize in advance!)

To tell this story properly I must begin, if not in 1861, then at least in the early 80s when I discovered that I have Italian blood. I can't remember the exact day but I remember the feeling... I felt Italian. Of course I had no idea what being Italian ought to feel like, but I knew I felt it. Never mind that I was only one quarter Italian, never mind that I spoke not a word and had never set foot in the country. Never mind the German, Irish, English, Portuguese and who knows what other blood I had--that didn't matter. What mattered was that I was Italian.

No, this isn't me, although I wouldn't be surprised if a photo of me like this exists.

Not by citizenship of course. The Italianess came to me from my mother's mother, and a ridiculous and sexist law makes it impossible for me to claim Italian citizenship through my ancestors. But that didn't stop me, especially as an exuberant 7 year old, from feeling Italian.

I'll never forget my first trip to Italy, with my mother and sister when I was 14. At that time I was blindly obsessed with the film A Room with a View. I ate, slept and breathed this film. I literally (literally!) had the entire script memorized. Being kissed on a hillside with Florence in the distance was just about the most romantic thing in the world as far as I could tell, and I wanted it to happen to me. So going to Florence was almost a pilgrimage.

I'm embarrassed to admit that at that age I didn't care much about the David or the Botticellis or even the Duomo. I cried when I stood in the Piazza della Signoria, not because of the amazing art surrounding me, or the hundreds of years of history, but because I was standing where George caught Lucy when she fainted.

A Room with a View, Merchant Ivory Film

Ah, the romance! How this scene thrilled my adolescent heart!

A Room with a View, Julian Sands and Helena Bonham Carter

What can I say, sometimes fiction is more moving than history. Blame it on my youth.

We took an overnight train from Paris, and in the morning as the train barrelled through Tuscany, I stumbled down the corridor and bumped into someone. "Scusi!" I said, automatically. Then I stopped, realizing, "I can say 'scusi' now... I'm in Italy!" Bliss.

What would I have thought then to know I would one day live here? Maybe I knew all along it was inevitable. As life sometimes works like dominoes, my obsession with A Room with a View introduced me to the music of Puccini, which began a whole new (and much more time consuming) obsession, this time with opera.

By 16, Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro filled every available corner of my brain. Just as much as I longed to perform the role of Susanna, I equally longed to be able to speak Italian. I would memorize the endless recitativi from Figaro, and rattle them off, imagining I was having a conversation with an Italian (preferably a dark, handsome, male one).

Ten years and many trips to Italy later, I was plotting to find a way to move here permanently. I no longer yearned for anything so specific as a kiss in a barley field. I just wanted to live this magical place, to soak up the beauty that Italy emanates from its very core. At first it was more of a day dream, something that almost didn't seem possible. But I wanted that dolce vita so bad I could taste it. Eventually it became a mission, until finally one day, I said to myself, "What's stopping me?" and three months later I was here.

[Cue record scratch as blissful Amelie type music screeches to a halt]

Those of you who live here know, life in Italy is not only about romance, cobblestones, and picturesque alleyways. It can be a frustrating, exhausting and extremely harsh place to live, despite what the films make you believe. I found that out not long after arrival.

I'd love to be able to say I met the man of my dreams the day I got off the plane, and that my life fell instantly into place. Instead followed four mostly wonderful, sometimes miserable and always challenging years on my own in this crazy country. Still, I wouldn't trade those years, what they taught me and how they shaped me, for anything. You'll have to tune back in this time next month to hear the rest of the story.

If you are wondering what all of this rambling has to do with my wedding, well, I'm getting to it. I have never been capable of telling a short story. The point is, just like Mr. Beebe, I am naturally drawn to all things Italian. If it were not so, I would never have met my dashing Maritino.

Photo sources: 1, by author; 2, 3, 4

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The benefits of letter writing

About a month ago, I was inspired to write three long-hand, stamped, mailed letters and I wrote about it here. Well, bloglings, for all of you out there who thought I was crazy, old-fashioned, living in the past, behind the times, technologically challenged, or unable to accept the reality of this changing world we live in, well, all I have to say is, look what was waiting for me when I got home today:

Oh, yes. Pay off. I spent a lovely chunk of time this afternoon like this:

I think I may just have to grab some stationery supplies and head to Villa Pamphilj.

Photos by author

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The story of Cupid and Psyche continues in Villa Farnesina

Yesterday I posted about the new exhibit at Castel Sant’Angelo that brings together dozens of works of art illustrating the fable of Cupid and Psyche. This show, as I wrote yesterday, particularly interested me because I love the idea of an exhibit that tells a story. And what a story, with jealousy, diversity, courage, trust, abandonment, forgiveness and true love conquering all odds, well, Disney couldn’t have topped it.

Cupid and Psyche, Antonio Canova, 1786-93, Musée du Louvre, Paris

In fact I have so much to write about it that I am continuing the subject today. If you are not familiar with the story of Cupid and Psyche, you can read it here. What I find especially inspiring about it is that Psyche, the female character, is clearly the hero of the story. Cupid may be her “prince Charming” but it is her story, and it is she who succeeds at Venus’ impossible tasks, risking her life to be with the man she loves. 

This 2^nd-century story became popular in during the Renaissance and it was often the subject of artwork in bedrooms because if its romantic theme, and because it ends with a wedding banquet. The perfect subject for the art decorating the bedroom of a newlywed couple.

Loggia of Cupid and Psyche, Villa Farnesina, Rome

One of the most famous sites to utilize this subject is Villa Farnesina, the exquisite and rarely visited Renaissance palace in Trastevere. The villa was designed by Baldassare Perluzzi and built between 1508 and 1512 for the rich Sienese banker, Agostino Chigi. One of the richest men of his day, Chigi financed the caprices of many popes and their greedy relations. He was genuinely in love with his long-time mistress Francesca Ordeaschi, but because of his high social status, it wasn’t suitable for them to marry. Not being able to find a highborn woman whom he could bear to spend the rest of his life with, he moved Francesca into the villa and lived openly with her there. In an unprecedented and bold social step, they finally married in 1519, a veritable fairy tale not at all unlike the story of our Cupid and Psyche. Even more unheard of is the fact that the pope, Leo X De' Medici officiated the ceremony.

Portrait of Francesca Ordeaschi as Dorotea, Sebastiano del Piombo

No surprise then that on occasion of his long-awaited nuptials he had the ceiling of the villa’s loggia frescoed with scenes from the popular story. Like the mere mortal Psyche, Francesca was being welcomed into the social stratosphere of the super-elite, despite being not much more than a courtesan. Apparently Chigi’s ego didn’t have a problem with him representing himself as a god in this scenario. 

The walls the loggia are frescoed by several noted artists, most importantly Raphael, but it’s the ceiling that illustrates our story. Although Raphel may have been involved in the ceiling’s design, it is almost entirely the work of his greatest pupils, Giulio Romano, Giovan Francesco Penni, Raffaellino del Colle and Giovanni da Udine. The ceiling is gorgeous enough to be satisfying on its own, but when you know the story it makes it that much more rewarding.

Each spandrel illustrates a different scene from the fable, each one lovelier than the last, and the story in this case begins with Venus pointing out Psyche to Cupid. The frescoes are glorious, a celebration of the high Renaissance style that Raphael inspired. This is one of those places I could spend hours in, just feeding my eyes with the lush details and graceful figures.

Venus shows Cupid Psiche, Raffaellino del Colle

Cupid and the three graces, Giulio Romano

Venus, Ceres and Juno, Giulio Romano

The spandrel above is one of my favorites. I love mythological art because you can always find the symbols of each character somewhere. Juno's symbol is the peacock which you can easily to the right of Venus' legs. Ceres, in the center, is the goddess of grain and harvest and she wears blades of wheat in her hair.

Venus in her carriage, Giulio Romano

Venus and Jupiter, Giovan Francesco Penni

Psyche carried by amorini, Giulio Romano

Psyche and Venus, Giulio Romano

Venus clearly was not expecting Psyche to be able to pull this one off.

Cupid and Jupiter, Giulio Romano

Mercury, Giulio Romano

Mercury and Psiche, Giovan Francesco Penni

It's hard to tear your eyes away from the beautiful figures, but the festoons are every bit as worthy of praise, and were the work of Giovanni da Udine. It's not unusual for subtle sexual messages to be hidden in festoons bursting with fruit and vegetation like these ones. Sometimes it is obvious, even explicit, such as in the fresco of Mercury, right above his hand.

If you think I have an over-active imagination, take a look at the fruit just to the left of the oddly shaped cucumber (?). It is difficult to see here, but it is clearly a fig. If you speak a bit of Italian, you will know I'm not seeing things.

Council of the Gods

 In the center of the ceiling, these two large magnificent frescoes crown one of the most splendid, and least-known, wonders of Rome.

Nuptial banquet

This marvelous loggia, along with the other beautifully decorated rooms of the Villa Farnesina, can be visited Monday through Saturday, from 9am to 1pm for only €5. More information here.

Photo sources: 1, 3, all others

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