Where beauty is existence

I’m not an art historian. Or, at least I thought I wasn’t. I seem to have turned into one recently, since my current essay and dissertation topics both rely heavily on Greek art.

I’ve never been the one to suggest a visit to an art gallery. But I have a lot of friends who love art, and I find their passion contagious. I enjoy visiting with them, but I when I go alone I just get bored. Which is why I was surprised to realize that some of my favourite experiences on my trip last month were art galleries.

That might be because I visited some of the best galleries in the world.

I finally got to go back to the Louvre, and see the sculpture that I fell in love with six years ago.

When I first saw Eros and Psyche by Antonio Canova, I was amazed. I didn’t know that a piece of marble could be so beautiful. I never dreamed that a sculpture could be so real, could evoke so much emotion.

Undoubtedly, half of what I fell in love with was the portrayal of the myth. The Eros and Psyche story is one of my favourite Greek myths. It’s a tragic love story with a beautiful ending, and I think the sculpture captures that perfectly. One of those “love conquers all” stories.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that I kind of love renaissance art. Especially sculptures. It isn’t that surprising, considering the renaissance was about reviving classical themes. Classical themes which I love. And classical art, which according to my choice in topics this semester (the emergence of Hellenistic portraiture and portraits of Alexander the Great), I apparently love too. Like this:

And this:

Though I don’t love Rome, there’s no arguing that it has some of the best museums in the world. I could spend days in the Capitoline Museum. Or the Vatican Museum. It was amazing to finally see things I had been studying in class for years, like the statue above of Laocoon and his sons. I saw all of those in January. It was amazing.

This time, we went to a different kind of museum.

The Borghese Gallery is a privately owned collection. They get to make up their own rules. Rules that I’m not a huge fan of. You have a scheduled time you’re allowed to go in. You have to leave ALL bags, including purses, at the coat check. And you can’t take photos of the art.

It’s a good thing they have such an amazing collection.

Bernini was the second sculptor I fell in love with. The Borghese has some absolutely amazing pieces by him. Since I couldn’t take pictures, these aren’t my own.

The Borghese is set up in a different way, too. It occupies a 17th century villa, and the building itself is a work of art. The rooms are all different. But each one has a centrepiece, or two. The masterpieces are here, and the lesser (but still amazing) works are on or against the walls.

And my absolute favourite was this one:

A close up:

Breathtaking.

Venezia

I spent two days in a floating city - its narrow streets a masquerade, its cobbles made of glass. Every step was a photograph, every turn a masterpiece.

I’ve talked about about how I didn’t really like Rome, the first or second time I went. And I’ve talked about how I loved the Italian countryside. But what I haven’t told you yet, pets, is that there’s a city I did love in Italy.

Venice.

Venice is one of those incredible places where there is always so much to see. Not to visit, per se, since we saw most of the important places in two days, but to look at. You’re constantly surrounded by such beautiful things - from the museums to the masks in shop windows.

Venice is so unique. The streets are so small and narrow, the buildings are misshapen - leaning and jutting out. The canals are filled with gondolas and other boats and bridged by crosswalks. The water is teal green. I didn’t believe it. I asked if they dyed it that colour.

We went to nearly all the museums in Venice, and they’re all definitely worth seeing (you can also get a day pass that lets you into all of them for one price). But the most stunning part was definitely the Doge’s Palace. Every room was a masterpiece in itself, and then the walls were filled with some of the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen (sadly, they don’t let you take pictures in there).

The Sistene Chapel’s got nothing on the ceilings of Venice.

Carino

I’d like to introduce you all to my new friend.

This is Carino. He is a Fiat 500. He belongs to Toe and his family, and lives in Rome and on the olive farm. His name is my idea, though. “Carino” means cute in Italian. And it starts with the word “car.” Get it?

Carino is the perfect little car for driving around the Italian countryside. He doesn’t go very fast. Sometimes you have to get out and push him down a hill to get him to start. Sometimes you’re not quite sure he’s going to make it up a hill, but he never gives up!

I love cars. Not in the way that guys tend to like cars - I don’t actually know anything about them or how they work and I can’t tell you the make, model or year of a car. But I love driving. And I love driving around in cars with character.*

My first car had character. Her name was Blanche. She was old and white and she had a huge dent in the front (that my sister claims isn’t her fault.. and I know wasn’t my fault…). She had to struggle to reach speed to merge onto the highway. One time, her turn singles stopped working in the middle of winter as I was trying to change lanes and I had to roll down my window and signal by hand. But she was a staple in my group of friends and everyone called her by name.

Carino is a lot like Blanche. Not necessarily reliable, but always an adventure. I even got a chance to drive Carino myself (my first time ever driving a manual transmission!) and I actually did pretty well!

And there are few things better than driving around the Italian countryside with the sun roof down.

*As much as I like cars with character, I like driving fast more. So the next car I get, just like the last one I had, will be new and a Mazda.

Italia

A couple of weeks ago, I returned to Italy. After my last impression of Rome, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew, however, that this trip would be different.

For one, I was going with my friend Toe who speaks Italian. So I didn’t have to get lost in translation. He ordered my food and asked all the questions I needed. It was great!

Secondly, we were going to see more than just Rome. Toe’s family has an apartment just outside the city walls in Rome, but they also have an olive farm, in a city called Castelnuovo di Farfa, about half an hour away.

What I discovered was that Italy is beautiful. It really does have character, and it starts the minute you leave Rome. The entire time in the Sabine* (the area where the olive farm is) was like a scene from a bad romantic comedy. There was a traffic jam with sheep. There were narrow winding roads lined with olive trees. There was a part where we had to get out of the car and push.

We explored the ruins of a Roman bridge. We went to a town that was about two streets big, and set entirely on a cliff. We sat in the sun. We got a tour (in Italian only!) of the Olive Oil Museum (including modern art inspired by olive oil!)

And, inevitably, everything shut for two hours in the afternoon. It was slow, peaceful and quiet.

We spent a few days in Rome, too, and I still don’t love it. Next time, I’d rather just stay at the olive farm.

*The Sabine is the area from the early Roman myth of the Rape of the Sabines! How cool is that? I bought a children’s book in Italian about it.

Le Moulin Rouge

Just a photo for today, pets. I’ve been a busy little digger this week and this weekend I need to be a busy little student. Next week, posts about Italy, carino and sculptures.