Monday, January 18, 1993

TRAVEL: Siena, Italy

Before John and I were married, we took a trip to Italy with his parents.  His sister, Katharine, who lives and works there, took us about to see the endless marvels.

The fog was sticky, wet, and pervasive that winter, and the damp cold was banked and radiated from the bounty of  stones.

 View from the tower below.



















The marvelous lavishly decorated cathedral of Siena, Duomo di Siena, now called Santa Maria Assunta.  Built between 1215 and 1263, in Tuscan Romanesque style with elements of French Gothic and Classical architecture, it was mostly designed by Giovanni Pisano. 




The upper façades were completed between 1360 and 1370. Below, the marvelous fresh sculptures of Pisano, truly remarkable for their embodiment and expression of later Renaissance aesthetics.

Friday, January 15, 1993

TRAVEL/PHOTO ESSAY: Assisi, Italy

Assisi, Italy, January 1993
Deep fogs frequent the valleys of Tuscany and Umbria in the winter, making a spiritual search metaphor out of enduring such weather.  They are cloyingly damp and cold, and malinger for days - one hopes that a second journey to Italy in Spring or early summer will come to pass one year, to align the self with the warmth and felicity one seeks in the Italian countryside.

St. Francis’ Sermon to the Birds

My sisters the birds, you are much obliged to God your creator, and always and in every place you ought to praise him, because he has given you liberty to fly wherever you will and has clothed you with twofold and threefold raiment. Moreover, he preserved your seed in Noah's ark that your race might not be destroyed. Again, you are obliged to him for the element of air which he has appointed for you. Furthermore, you sow not neither do you reap, yet God feeds you and gives you rivers and fountains from which to drink. He gives you mountains and valleys for your refuge, and high trees in which to build your nests. And, since you know neither how to sew nor to spin, God clothes you and your little ones; so clearly your Creator loves you, seeing that he gives you so many benefits. Guard yourselves, therefore, you sisters the birds, from the sin of ingratitude, and be ever mindful to give praise to God.
Assisi’s road crawls round the mountain it’s built on.

Church of St. Francis -as I recall, St. Francis’ body was displayed in a glass casket and looked quite mummified.  A bit grisly.  As a Catholic child, this aspect of venerating exsanguinated, tortured bodies was incomprehensible, thus I thought it normal. As an adult, I’ve had a ghastly backfire - blood, guts, suffering, cruxifixion, all seem very deeply abnormal, psychologically unhealthy, and fetishistic, sadistic and also masochistic.





St. Francis’ Sermon to the Birds

My sisters the birds, you are much obliged to God your creator, and always and in every place you ought to praise him, because he has given you liberty to fly wherever you will and has clothed you with twofold and threefold raiment. Moreover, he preserved your seed in Noah's ark that your race might not be destroyed. Again, you are obliged to him for the element of air which he has appointed for you. Furthermore, you sow not neither do you reap, yet God feeds you and gives you rivers and fountains from which to drink. He gives you mountains and valleys for your refuge, and high trees in which to build your nests. And, since you know neither how to sew nor to spin, God clothes you and your little ones; so clearly your Creator loves you, seeing that he gives you so many benefits. Guard yourselves, therefore, you sisters the birds, from the sin of ingratitude, and be ever mindful to give praise to God.
Legend-of-St-Francis-of-Assisi-and-the-Wolf
One of the most charming stories - St. Francis intervenes for the town of Gubbio, threatened by a hungry wolf - the wolf stands down.  Dr. Doolittle is surely the secular version of St. Francis, yes?

How I loved my holy cards when I was a child - the soft, sentimental, Hummel German kitsch style was a child’s aesthetic of  stuffed animal sweetness and cuddles - they also remind me of Murillo, the Spanish painter.


Saint Francis'  Canticle to the Sun

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord,
All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong, and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.

Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures,
especially Sir Brother Sun, Who is the day through which You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour, Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars. In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all weather's moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.

Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water,
So useful, humble, precious and pure.

Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire, through whom You light the night,
and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You my Lord through our Sister,
Mother Earth who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.
Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon
for love of You and bear sickness and trial.
Blessed are those who endure in peace,
By You Most High, they will be crowned.

Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape.
Blessed are they She finds doing Your Will, for no second death shall they ever know.  
Praise to you O Lord, we give thanks for this our earthly life in time, and for life eternal to come.  
Amen.


Wednesday, January 13, 1993

TRAVEL: Italian Hill Towns

San Gimignano




Pienza
Pienza Façade
























Montereggione


























Montepulciano




View from Villa Giorgoli


Tuesday, October 22, 1991

PHOTO ESSAY: Christo's Umbrella Project, California

What a marvelous project!  Seeing the umbrellas was joyful, as if we were all in communion.  They were so beautiful; something a bit comic about it all, too.  Whimsical - although the umbrellas were substantial, the fierce winds of the Gorman pass tore one loose, killing  a woman tourist.

So, that the umbrellas exhibit was closed, not called by rain, but time.





Friday, February 7, 1986

POEM: Talking to a Stone


I would make of you
A river stone, washed and formed
To an oval nearly perfect.

Perhaps one curve swelled
Or an edge roughened still,
Permitting you to know your true stone self
From all the other stone selves,
Perchance you saw reflections
In the river’s time and magic.
You will be smoothed forever
Your surfaces soft and cool
Know your bulk and heft
As your presence parts the flow
Know the density of soul
The weight that grounds.
I would hold you loosely in hand
Then return you to your place.
Privileged to take from the riverbed’s wealth
This sign of earthly power.
The gods overlooked your beauty
But I have not.