Italy is lovely.  What can I say?  The villa is a 16th century affair with lovely wooden ceilings, old fountains (some in disuse) and stone staircases.  Lectures and classes are held in the rear garden, a deconsecrated chapel and in and around Tuscany in general.  We travel to Pisa, Venice, Rome and of course Florence.  The students are an energetic bunch with many questions and like I was at the beginning, not sure about where to go, what to do and who to speak to.  There are quite a few painters and writers and, in a few minutes we will see how many wish to practice the craft of photography.

Art History after this meeting, then dinner and then Dante…

More to come…

I arrived in Florence around 9:00 hours and had to wait a few hours until my room was ready.  The Hotel Orto di Medici was kind enough to let me sleep on a couch in the day room until 14:00 when I could check in.  A simple but clean room was presented to me and a crawled into the sack for some more shuteye.  That evening I walked around and found a decent trattoria: carpaccio with spicy arugula, baked beans with garlic and tomatoes and fried rabbit reminded me that I was no longer in America and safe and happy here in Europe, a place I seem to be calling home more often than not.  The next morning I awoke very early and took a dimly-lit walk through the empty streets, down to the River Arno and onto the Ponte Vecchio, devoid of tourists and closed for the night.  It was lovely.  The street cleaners went about their business as I strolled about, buying off the jet-lag and getting my bearings.  My internal compass is more-or-less realigned.  I returned to the hotel, snoozed for a couple of hours and woke up to one of the better continental breakfasts I have had.  The salami and mortadella were excellent, the cappuccino was tasty and they even had rice cakes as a choice over than toast.  I ate well, knowing that my day trip to Fiesole would burn off the calories.  I took the bus to Fiesole and walked around the Roman and Etruscan ruins virtually alone–after another cappuccino.  I came back to Florence by lunchtime and made my way from the Piazza San Marco to the San Croce area and visited the Museo Galileo, which is also called the Science Museum.  Wonderful, really fantastic.  Measuring devices of all types, styles, eras and functions were on display, most collected by the di Medici family over the centuries.  I was hit by an understanding of the nature of man, or of at least intelligent man.  We are born to measure, to divine distances and directions, pressures and quantities physical and ephemeral.  My common metaphor of the sailor’s compass is held up by the cases of quadrants, octants, sundials, Jacobs staffs, clocks and globes of any and seemingly all varieties.  I am inspired.

Today is Thursday, September 1.  I am meeting some spiritual friends for coffee and conversation at 13:30.  Before that I hope to beat some of the crowds to the Palazzo Pitti and then head to the Museo Zoologico la Specola.  In the afternoon My day is free to wander.  I would like to avoid the crowds for an hour or so and then come back to the hotel for a short siesta.  Then I’ll pack my bags.  Tomorrow I head to Pistoia, the Villa Rospigliosi and the Aegean Center.  First, however, I am meeting up with a fellow student at the train station, which leaves me with Friday morning free before I check out and dump my bags (carefully re-packed) at the left-luggage office, Firenze Santa Maria Novello.  I can only imagine what awaits me…

JDCM

The Air France lounge is filling up with fellow passengers, many going back to France, but I will be connecting and continuing on to Florence where the Aegean Center waits for me with open arms and the hope of more knowledge, experience and a bright future.  I have entered a new phase, I feel it, one of growth and letting go of much of my past.  I am grateful for this chance to add something meaningful to the world and what that is I am not sure, but there will be something.  I have no illusions that it will be big or even memorable.  It will be a small legacy.  I am laying the foundations for this future.  As I write these words.

On another note I used to write these thoughts in a small spiral notebook for my eye only.  Today I am using my laptop and posting for the world to see and read.  This makes a difference because it allows me to still be as free as I was before but try for some more substantive content.

I’ll try to post more often and, as the days progress, with more actual comings-and-goings and a rundown of the day’s events.

JDCM

I have run a ‘test pack’ and am fairly secure on what I am bringing and what I am leaving behind.  Since I will be in Italy for the first month I need to bring some nicer clothes with me.  Long pants, shoes, shirts, etc…One cannot dress down in Florence and Rome like one does on Paros.  The Italians frown on shirts and t-shirts in their churches and restaurants, and with good reason: it’s smacks of laziness, poverty and disrespect.

The American culture, or the ‘Culture of Death’ as I like to call it, raises this attitude to the level of acceptance.  What we consider mainstream here in the USA, i.e. fashion, music, food and general knowledge derives itself from abject poverty and ignorance.  The other day I was driving behind a large Ford pick-up with the proud emblem ‘Redneck’ on the back; the television is rife with political religious crazies espousing a dangerously medievalist and venomous doctrine geared towards the poor, the paranoid and the poorly educated; the radio airwaves are saturated with violence, misogyny and anger; I look around at the sullen faces of today’s youth and wonder who these people are that could be our future?  This can be a daunting vision, all of this.  I find light and growth in isolated pockets of humanism and spirit.  Arts communities are more important than ever these days, and of course they are the first programs to lose any outside funding front the powers that be.  That money must go elsewhere.  I am convince we are either on the brink, or already within, a New Dark Ages.  The Enlightenment is over, as is the Renaissance that preceded it.  But this is a natural cycle.  It is just our luck to be at the low end of the bell curve.

In any case I am out of here soon enough.  I’ll leave the bucolic Hudson Valley behind for a few months  while I engage in a lengthy peripatetic lecture through Italy and Greece.  I’ll try to update this as I go along, I hope more than I usually do.  Next post: Florence, Italy.

Caio,

JDCM

Railway station platform, Florence, Italy 1993

I can remember being astounded by the Cartier-Bresson’s  ”Michel Gabriel, Rue Mouffetard” — the photograph of the young boy carrying the two bottles of wine.  I realized then that there was more to just snapping away at whatever you wanted.  That’s when I began to see a new world through the viewfinder.  My father’s good friend and mentor, Wright Morris, was another influence.   He was a writer and photographer who photographed the Midwest and America at roughly the same period as Walker Evans.   Many times over the years Morris’ calm eye has resurfaced in my mind, guiding me.

I like this view because it lies in between arrivals and departures, which are always exciting points when I travel.  The station is all but empty.  It was during this 1993 trip to Europe that I began to search for my voice.  Unfortunately most of the images from that journey are lost.  I only have a handful of negatives left.