Friday, September 28, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Happy Birthday Augustus Caesar!
Yes, folks, today is the birthday of Augustus Caesar, full name: Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus. Gaius Octavius Thurinus, if we're referring to him before the year 27BC. If he were still alive, he'd be 2,070 years old. During his reign Jesus Christ was born. Among his descendents were Nero, Caligula, Tiberius, and Claudius. Basically a bunch of lunatics (excepting Claudius). But he was a pretty good guy. As far as emperors go. He was also the first emperor. Let's all pour a little out for our dead homey. I mean, this is the man who virtually invented the calendar we use today, and I mean, not many people have an entire month named after them (I can only think of one other, being July, after Julius Caesar). What a guy. Maybe one day they'll change the name of the month of February to Justinuary. One can only dream, right? Did you know that the months September through December were originally the 7th through the 10 months, hence the roots septem-, octo-, nove-, dece-, which are, respectively seven, eight, nine, and ten in Latin. Augustus changed the calendar from an unreliable Lunar one to a Solar one. I believe he also started the world's first fire department, but don't quote me on that.
I am currently listening to Dave Brubeck. Time Out. And today is Sunday. My roommates are gone to some distant place, and I am alone.
Tomorrow I have an 8 hour tour of Rome, starting at the Vatican, then to the Colosseum and Forum, and finally through all of the piazzas and fountains. My friend told me Joanna Newsome is playing tonight in Rome, and I'm hoping that maybe this private tour is with her, just so I can rub it in the face of everyone I know. Another of my fellow "Cultural Historians" (our preferred nomenclature) got to give a tour to Chelsea Clinton. Being British and none too knowledgeable about the finer details of American politics, she made a joke about Bill Clinton (there is an ancient Roman statue in the Vatican that looks an awful lot like Slick Willy). Her boss was none too happy about that. I've yet to walk anyone through the Vatican, but the other two I've done, and I've become quite proficient with the Forum and Colosseum (if I do say so myself). Obviously this is a lot of information I have to keep in my head, so I've been busy studying up on it all. It's basically like delivering a 6 and a half hour lecture (since we travel a bit in the taxi and also stop for lunch). This is why I've been so lazy in terms of posting. For that, I apologize. My days and nights are spent trying to remember the differences between Baroque architecture and Renaissance; between Carlo Maderno, Domenica Fontana, Carlo Rainaldi, and Giacomo della Porta; between the Pamphilj popes, della Rovere popes, Farnese popes, and the Barberini popes; etc.
Since Jim has arrived, however, I've been much more active. Before I was staying at my house, with my nose in books or on the internet (I've filled an entire Moleskin with notes). He's probably the best person I could have here at the moment, since he enjoys walking around and finding new stuff just as much as I do; and since his background is in Art and Art History, he can tell me about the processes through which bronze doors are cast, or what materials artists used to glue gold leafing to the ceilings. Meanwhile I tell him about the history of the founding of the church, institution, or beliefs depicted in the art. Together we are building our knowledge and teaching each other how to read the art, something quite difficult for me, who's always seen a painting as a painting. Saints and Pagan gods are always depicted with some sort of prop to distinguish them from other Saints or Pagan gods (Hercules always has a lion's skin, St. Peter is always holding keys, St. Paul, a sword, St. Agnes is always with a lamb, Hera is often with a peacock, Venus an apple, etc.). I have now read the New Testament from cover to cover, and plan on starting the Old Testament soon (whenever I get a chance). We've also revived the process of "Church Hunting," which is like treasure hunting, only better. Knowing that Caravaggio's three masterpieces of the lives of St. Matthew are in San Luigi dei Francesi is a good start to the day. From there we walk around, going into church after church, looking for them. That particular example took two days for us to find (turns out it was right around the corner from the Pantheon).
At night we get a bottle of wine and sit in the piazzas, trying to talk to girls, with varying degrees of success. Both of us are trying to learn Italian. Since I've been here longer, I feel it would be embarrassing if he mastered it first. So far I speak it better than he does, but he understands it better than I do. Between us we can hold a decent conversation with someone. He has the advantage of being really good friends with several Italians, whereas I only have some acquaintances, most of whom want to practise their English with me. Regardless, his presence is going to motivate me to start really learning this language, if for no other reason than the shame I would feel if I didn't.
I realize that my blogs lack a very important entertaining element: humor. Again, I apologize. I swear I'm funny. Sometimes. I'm just usually so exhausted mentally that I just write out the dryest of details about my life. Keep reading, however, and I swear one day you'll at least crack a smile. Maybe.
Now on to the Gallery of Candelabrae! I can't remember which pope set it up (I think it was Gregory XIII in 1575, but I can't say, "I think" on a tour... too improfessional). Wish me luck, everyone. I'll need it.
I am currently listening to Dave Brubeck. Time Out. And today is Sunday. My roommates are gone to some distant place, and I am alone.
Tomorrow I have an 8 hour tour of Rome, starting at the Vatican, then to the Colosseum and Forum, and finally through all of the piazzas and fountains. My friend told me Joanna Newsome is playing tonight in Rome, and I'm hoping that maybe this private tour is with her, just so I can rub it in the face of everyone I know. Another of my fellow "Cultural Historians" (our preferred nomenclature) got to give a tour to Chelsea Clinton. Being British and none too knowledgeable about the finer details of American politics, she made a joke about Bill Clinton (there is an ancient Roman statue in the Vatican that looks an awful lot like Slick Willy). Her boss was none too happy about that. I've yet to walk anyone through the Vatican, but the other two I've done, and I've become quite proficient with the Forum and Colosseum (if I do say so myself). Obviously this is a lot of information I have to keep in my head, so I've been busy studying up on it all. It's basically like delivering a 6 and a half hour lecture (since we travel a bit in the taxi and also stop for lunch). This is why I've been so lazy in terms of posting. For that, I apologize. My days and nights are spent trying to remember the differences between Baroque architecture and Renaissance; between Carlo Maderno, Domenica Fontana, Carlo Rainaldi, and Giacomo della Porta; between the Pamphilj popes, della Rovere popes, Farnese popes, and the Barberini popes; etc.
Since Jim has arrived, however, I've been much more active. Before I was staying at my house, with my nose in books or on the internet (I've filled an entire Moleskin with notes). He's probably the best person I could have here at the moment, since he enjoys walking around and finding new stuff just as much as I do; and since his background is in Art and Art History, he can tell me about the processes through which bronze doors are cast, or what materials artists used to glue gold leafing to the ceilings. Meanwhile I tell him about the history of the founding of the church, institution, or beliefs depicted in the art. Together we are building our knowledge and teaching each other how to read the art, something quite difficult for me, who's always seen a painting as a painting. Saints and Pagan gods are always depicted with some sort of prop to distinguish them from other Saints or Pagan gods (Hercules always has a lion's skin, St. Peter is always holding keys, St. Paul, a sword, St. Agnes is always with a lamb, Hera is often with a peacock, Venus an apple, etc.). I have now read the New Testament from cover to cover, and plan on starting the Old Testament soon (whenever I get a chance). We've also revived the process of "Church Hunting," which is like treasure hunting, only better. Knowing that Caravaggio's three masterpieces of the lives of St. Matthew are in San Luigi dei Francesi is a good start to the day. From there we walk around, going into church after church, looking for them. That particular example took two days for us to find (turns out it was right around the corner from the Pantheon).
At night we get a bottle of wine and sit in the piazzas, trying to talk to girls, with varying degrees of success. Both of us are trying to learn Italian. Since I've been here longer, I feel it would be embarrassing if he mastered it first. So far I speak it better than he does, but he understands it better than I do. Between us we can hold a decent conversation with someone. He has the advantage of being really good friends with several Italians, whereas I only have some acquaintances, most of whom want to practise their English with me. Regardless, his presence is going to motivate me to start really learning this language, if for no other reason than the shame I would feel if I didn't.
I realize that my blogs lack a very important entertaining element: humor. Again, I apologize. I swear I'm funny. Sometimes. I'm just usually so exhausted mentally that I just write out the dryest of details about my life. Keep reading, however, and I swear one day you'll at least crack a smile. Maybe.
Now on to the Gallery of Candelabrae! I can't remember which pope set it up (I think it was Gregory XIII in 1575, but I can't say, "I think" on a tour... too improfessional). Wish me luck, everyone. I'll need it.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Rollin' with the homies...
I'm working again, folks. This is fantastic. I make 25 Euros an hour, and generally give tours around 5 hours long. Then I get tips. I've only given one so far, and it was a 3 hour, and for the rest of the week I'll only be giving 3 hour tours, but next week I'll be getting into the big bucks. Five hours, eight hours. The good stuff. Still, 100 Euros a day isn't half bad. This is good, especially since I still owe my roommate a little bit of money, and I want to move out by the end of the month. We'll see how it goes. In November I'll have to go back to teaching, so most of this money I make will probably set aside for a rainy day, but as soon as the season starts back up in March, I'll be able to actually live and breathe a little. Hoorah.
In other news, my friend Jim lives here now. So now we are two.
I know I've been lazy about posting lately. I actually have about 4 or 5 unposted drafts, but I've been so busy studying that I haven't had time to run through anything and make corrections, etc. Though that's never stopped me before...
In other news, my friend Jim lives here now. So now we are two.
I know I've been lazy about posting lately. I actually have about 4 or 5 unposted drafts, but I've been so busy studying that I haven't had time to run through anything and make corrections, etc. Though that's never stopped me before...
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Is Cixous a Sick Sue? Philosophical Musings on Theory and the Role of Art in the Modern Community
ok, i'll go ahead and post part 1, since if i extend it much more no one will ever read it...
During the past week, as you may be aware, I have been engaged in a crash course in the art of the Italian Rennaisance. From Bramante to Titian, on through Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo (the namesakes of all four Ninja Turtles), the architectural and sculptural philosophies of Bernini to the mad brawls of Michelangelo Merisi (the other Michelangelo, otherwise known as Caravaggio) or Cellini-- my dreams have been infected with the characters I have been forced to memorize the lives of. Apart from one obligatory Art Appreciation course at Troy State University, from which I learned probably less than the stupid jocks and cheerleaders who sat bored around me, I have no experience in Art Criticism. My only exposure to anything approaching a scholarly understanding of Art and its various roles in society or any of the philosophical questions underlining our approach to it, has been in classes about literature or film. Music, the most important art form I have omitted in the above sentences, I have a more natural inclination towards; though even with music there are problems in defining boundaries which I am incapable of understanding, due to my insuffecient knowledge of Music Theory (read a definition of Baroque vs. Classical and you'll understand the impossibility of anyone less than a genius in truly understanding just what makes up each). All of this being said, I have continually been challenged during the course of my studying to understand just what defines a "Masterpiece," or a "Master." This disadvantage of mine has proven to be quite an obstacle, but, as I hope to illustrate in some way in due course, has also been advantageous in several crucial ways.
Generally we all agree that Michelangelo was a "Master," but not many of us can really explain why without pointing towards the obvious magnitude of his works, such as the monumental 17 foot David chiselled out of a single block of marble, or the 300 figures of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. When trying to explain why we all universally admire a work like Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," we are posed with more difficulties, since the work is not immediately striking to the eye acquainted with someone like Michelangelo. In short, we do not understand the context, or the innovations that made these paintings famous to begin with. Indeed, most people are unaware that several of the paintings lining the walls of the Sistine Chapel were made by the infamous Botticelli; we tend to look at what's famous. Of course, not being any sort of art snob, I don't blame the people who look at it without knowing a damn thing about it: it's naturally impressive and there is a worldwide familiarity with it. In fact, I take a fair amount of comfort in the bovine expressions of the tourists craning their necks and sneaking snapshots to show off to the folks back home. There is something calming about it, like listening to the ocean in a seashell.
Let's move on to the term "Art Fag." This term has become ubiquitous in the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, and in some circles has even been embraced. Part of this starts with the insufferable elitism of the art community and their deliberate attempts to alienate their perceived intellectual inferiors, and, by virtue of those very elements, the audience attracted has tended to be the disenfranchised or countercurrent, in other words, kids who never really fit in with a taste for fashion. "Fag" or not, the image that most modern Americans have of art and artists nowadays is the complete opposite of what it once was in other times and places. Art has lost its masculine connotations. In my research, the artists I am familiarizing myself with were, in their days, like the rock stars of today. They were famous and admired; though a Rennaisance wench was still unlikely to throw her bra at him while he was painting, the artists still affected a certain amount of charm on the ladies. One of Caravaggio's contemporaries noted that "after a fortnight's work he will swagger about for a month or two with a sword at his side and a servant following him, from one ball-court to the next, ever ready to engage in a fight or an argument, so that it is most awkward to get along with him." Drinking, fighting, gambling, and women: these are some of the characteristics of the famous painters of the Rennaisance era. Both Caravaggio and Celini (whom I mentioned together earlier) were guilty of homicide. Even the great Michelangelo got into fist fights. In one little known incident, he and Leonardo da Vinci (with whom he had a fierce rivalry with), when commissioned to paint opposite walls in the same chapel, started throwing paint at each other. Imagine that. Two of the greatest geniuses ever to live, two men whom the term "Rennaisance Man" was invented for, throwing paint at each other in a temper tantrum. I'm reminded of the snide insults that would pass between Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain when they would pass each other, or even the lyrical jabs that passed between Neil Young and Lynyrd Skynyrd (to state a few examples most of us our familiar with).
I'm not trying to form any opinion about these details, just including them for my argument. When I say that art has lost its masculine side, I am not saying it should move back towards it or that it has any more validity or any less validity than the more feminine art, or even the sexless, abstract kind that cram our museums nowadays to confuse the paying patrons. The question I am attempting to raise is about the universality of art.
Though I am beginning to realize what a difficult task I've undertaken, I'll press on, hopefully illuminating at some point my main point. And please, forgive any ostensible tangents, I promise they have some purpose.
The art of the Rennaisance coincided with the birth of Humanism. Finally the potential and strength of the toiling peasants had been realized (note: irony)! Even in the Roman Republic voting was never popular, it was a mere charade. As far as the Empire goes, people were too busy watching the gladiatorial matches of the Colosseum or the chariot races of the Circus Maximus to be too concerned with politics, and indeed, these were some of the noted functions of the various arenas: to distract the masses from the corrupt political process (does this principle have any relevance today?). The buildings designated for voting soon became theaters of base entertainment(note: no irony). Through the Middle Ages Rome was too devastated by wars and plagues to worry about either art or the political potential of the masses. As the upheavel left in the wake of the fallen Empire gradually began to settle and powerful families and rich merchants began to take over, the quality of life began to improve. Aqueducts were repaired or built providing drinkable water, trade routes re-established bringing in a traffic of products and ideas from around the Mediterranean, building materials imported to build stronger houses, etc. Those in charge were forced more and more to rely upon the common citizens. In the affluent period that followed, there could only be one more step: beautifying the city; making it worthy of all the thousands of pilgrims who came to see where St. Peter was crucified upside down, where St. Lawrence was burned alive (reported last words, doubtlessly apocryphal, were, "I am done on this side! Turn me over and eat," or something to that effect), where St. Paul was beheaded, the fragments of the cross Jesus was crucified on St. Helena brought back from Jerusalem, or any of the thousands of other things that are either located here or happened here. To do this would require an army of ambitious young artists.
During the past week, as you may be aware, I have been engaged in a crash course in the art of the Italian Rennaisance. From Bramante to Titian, on through Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo (the namesakes of all four Ninja Turtles), the architectural and sculptural philosophies of Bernini to the mad brawls of Michelangelo Merisi (the other Michelangelo, otherwise known as Caravaggio) or Cellini-- my dreams have been infected with the characters I have been forced to memorize the lives of. Apart from one obligatory Art Appreciation course at Troy State University, from which I learned probably less than the stupid jocks and cheerleaders who sat bored around me, I have no experience in Art Criticism. My only exposure to anything approaching a scholarly understanding of Art and its various roles in society or any of the philosophical questions underlining our approach to it, has been in classes about literature or film. Music, the most important art form I have omitted in the above sentences, I have a more natural inclination towards; though even with music there are problems in defining boundaries which I am incapable of understanding, due to my insuffecient knowledge of Music Theory (read a definition of Baroque vs. Classical and you'll understand the impossibility of anyone less than a genius in truly understanding just what makes up each). All of this being said, I have continually been challenged during the course of my studying to understand just what defines a "Masterpiece," or a "Master." This disadvantage of mine has proven to be quite an obstacle, but, as I hope to illustrate in some way in due course, has also been advantageous in several crucial ways.
Generally we all agree that Michelangelo was a "Master," but not many of us can really explain why without pointing towards the obvious magnitude of his works, such as the monumental 17 foot David chiselled out of a single block of marble, or the 300 figures of the Sistine Chapel's ceiling. When trying to explain why we all universally admire a work like Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," we are posed with more difficulties, since the work is not immediately striking to the eye acquainted with someone like Michelangelo. In short, we do not understand the context, or the innovations that made these paintings famous to begin with. Indeed, most people are unaware that several of the paintings lining the walls of the Sistine Chapel were made by the infamous Botticelli; we tend to look at what's famous. Of course, not being any sort of art snob, I don't blame the people who look at it without knowing a damn thing about it: it's naturally impressive and there is a worldwide familiarity with it. In fact, I take a fair amount of comfort in the bovine expressions of the tourists craning their necks and sneaking snapshots to show off to the folks back home. There is something calming about it, like listening to the ocean in a seashell.
Let's move on to the term "Art Fag." This term has become ubiquitous in the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, and in some circles has even been embraced. Part of this starts with the insufferable elitism of the art community and their deliberate attempts to alienate their perceived intellectual inferiors, and, by virtue of those very elements, the audience attracted has tended to be the disenfranchised or countercurrent, in other words, kids who never really fit in with a taste for fashion. "Fag" or not, the image that most modern Americans have of art and artists nowadays is the complete opposite of what it once was in other times and places. Art has lost its masculine connotations. In my research, the artists I am familiarizing myself with were, in their days, like the rock stars of today. They were famous and admired; though a Rennaisance wench was still unlikely to throw her bra at him while he was painting, the artists still affected a certain amount of charm on the ladies. One of Caravaggio's contemporaries noted that "after a fortnight's work he will swagger about for a month or two with a sword at his side and a servant following him, from one ball-court to the next, ever ready to engage in a fight or an argument, so that it is most awkward to get along with him." Drinking, fighting, gambling, and women: these are some of the characteristics of the famous painters of the Rennaisance era. Both Caravaggio and Celini (whom I mentioned together earlier) were guilty of homicide. Even the great Michelangelo got into fist fights. In one little known incident, he and Leonardo da Vinci (with whom he had a fierce rivalry with), when commissioned to paint opposite walls in the same chapel, started throwing paint at each other. Imagine that. Two of the greatest geniuses ever to live, two men whom the term "Rennaisance Man" was invented for, throwing paint at each other in a temper tantrum. I'm reminded of the snide insults that would pass between Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain when they would pass each other, or even the lyrical jabs that passed between Neil Young and Lynyrd Skynyrd (to state a few examples most of us our familiar with).
I'm not trying to form any opinion about these details, just including them for my argument. When I say that art has lost its masculine side, I am not saying it should move back towards it or that it has any more validity or any less validity than the more feminine art, or even the sexless, abstract kind that cram our museums nowadays to confuse the paying patrons. The question I am attempting to raise is about the universality of art.
Though I am beginning to realize what a difficult task I've undertaken, I'll press on, hopefully illuminating at some point my main point. And please, forgive any ostensible tangents, I promise they have some purpose.
The art of the Rennaisance coincided with the birth of Humanism. Finally the potential and strength of the toiling peasants had been realized (note: irony)! Even in the Roman Republic voting was never popular, it was a mere charade. As far as the Empire goes, people were too busy watching the gladiatorial matches of the Colosseum or the chariot races of the Circus Maximus to be too concerned with politics, and indeed, these were some of the noted functions of the various arenas: to distract the masses from the corrupt political process (does this principle have any relevance today?). The buildings designated for voting soon became theaters of base entertainment(note: no irony). Through the Middle Ages Rome was too devastated by wars and plagues to worry about either art or the political potential of the masses. As the upheavel left in the wake of the fallen Empire gradually began to settle and powerful families and rich merchants began to take over, the quality of life began to improve. Aqueducts were repaired or built providing drinkable water, trade routes re-established bringing in a traffic of products and ideas from around the Mediterranean, building materials imported to build stronger houses, etc. Those in charge were forced more and more to rely upon the common citizens. In the affluent period that followed, there could only be one more step: beautifying the city; making it worthy of all the thousands of pilgrims who came to see where St. Peter was crucified upside down, where St. Lawrence was burned alive (reported last words, doubtlessly apocryphal, were, "I am done on this side! Turn me over and eat," or something to that effect), where St. Paul was beheaded, the fragments of the cross Jesus was crucified on St. Helena brought back from Jerusalem, or any of the thousands of other things that are either located here or happened here. To do this would require an army of ambitious young artists.
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