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| Biennale, Aresenale, marathon |
I won’t call these highlights of the Biennale, just some interesting pieces and/or shots. One of the main venues is at the Arsenale, so between that and the preparations for the Venice marathon, which ran on Friday, there are some non-Biennale pics, too.
Renovation at the Arsenale means these spoils of war are temporarily caged.
As a congenitally shy person, I’m finding this expanding network of friendly connections fascinating. On Tuesday, at the gathering that G’s mom invited me to, a woman who makes documentary films invited me to a screening that took place tonight. The music of Olga Neuwirth plays a large part in this short documentary (Impossible Venice), so she was quite excited to hear the opinion of a musician. (That was flattering. I resisted the temptation to really share…in English…the full extent of my rich, complex take on her wonderful film. Did my best with the Italian I have. Go me!)
Turns out this screening was hosted by the Compagnia de Calza «I Antichi» – Venezia. I didn’t know there was a revival of the compagnie della calza (which started in the 15th century). The modern incarnation has weekly meetings which center around poetry readings, visiting speakers (scholars, journalists, etc.), themed dinners, and local festivities (like San Martino). It’s very, very local, and very, very culturally and historically keyed. So I joined. They’re having a reading of Manzoni this month. Can Leonardo Giustinian be far behind? (Hint, hint.)
Tuesday I heard the Consulate General of Belgium speak about his country at a gathering of the Associazione Europa Amica di Venezia (a group that promotes cultural understanding among EU member states). The wonderful Mamma G invited me some time ago to come to these talks, and I’m so thrilled. I was probably the only non-Venetian in the room, save the Honorable speaker himself, oh and one lady from Bassano del Grappa. It was a very convivial group of about thirty people — including a documentary filmmaker (who invited me to a screening this Friday) and an architectural engineer (who offered me a photocopy of the original elevation of the Palazzo Pisani, now the Conservatory, which he helped to restructure recently). They also had a classic Venetian spread for the reception, complete with prosecco, thank-you-ma’am. What a treat to be invited into this large circle of friendly and interesting people!
I’d been looking forward to that for a long time. Meanwhile, on Sunday, I got another invitation to go with my friend N. to a book talk on Monday at the Ateneo Veneto – a discussion of Daria Perocco’s recent edition of Poesie per regate (poems for regattas, Venetian texts from the 16th to the 19th century) . Really interesting talk, and an unforeseen opportunity to encounter some of Venice’s literary scholars. I had a nice little chat with Prof. Perocco… and delivered Stella’s greetings.
Then today by pure luck, on the way home from the library, I saw a poster for a seminar this week at the Levi Foundation: La nascita della storiografia musicale in Europa nel XIX secolo: gli orientamenti nazionali (the birth of musical historiography in Europe in the 19th century: the national orientations). The idea of coming across a poster for so esoteric a musicological meeting is strange enough — outside the confines of, say, a large research-oriented university in Chicago. But this was one huge poster. No, two: one right next to the other. Posted, moreover, in a tiny, back-alley sottoportego (underpass) hidden between Piazza San Marco and the Fenice. I just happened to pass that way as I experimented with a new long-cut home (to skirt foot traffic). “Did I really just see ’storiografia musicale’ out of the corner of my eye?” Yep. And the Fondazione Levi is two minutes from my house. Cool.
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| 2007 october part 3 |
The orientation for my grant program was great. Met many fascinating people, both American and Italian. Saw the fabulous American Academy in Rome — sunny, spacious rooms, lush lawn overlooking all of Rome, birds gently singing. It’s enough to make you forget that you nearly bought the farm contending with insane morning traffic getting there. Toured the fabulous modern art housed at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs — a rich collection of sculpture, textiles, paintings, installations, and furnishings, most of which are on loan, housed in a severe, fascist brick of a building. (All the people were very nice, though. And our tour guide was really fantastic: both an engaging speaker and a real diplomat.) For me the day was also punctuated by two bouts of bus-sickness (aka “mal di mare”), only one of which was nearly, um, problematic.
That one-day whirlwind was followed by a day spent with a friend from home. M and I saw the cats at Piazza Argentina, went into the Pantheon (it never gets old), had gelato (which also never gets old), and went to see the catacombs of S. Callisto, out on the Via Appia. After my triumphant performance at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs — where I understood the entire tour in Italian save two words near the end — the Italian-language tour of the catacombs was a reminder that, well, I’m not fluent. The deadpan, fast-talking, Roman-inflected tourguide only added to the experience, though. Big thanks to ML and C for letting me crash in their room for the night.
Catching cold on the way back from Rome meant that instead of careening into my actual work and hitting the library on Thursday and Friday, I was at home in bed. I mean all day both days, save an unsuccessful foray to the bank (talk about banker’s hours…) and a successful trip to the pharmacy (see previous post).
Finally this morning I got to the Marciana early and got a good day’s work in. Started making a dent in the list of manuscripts that I want to take a look at, even as I added to that list while waiting for my requests. Right now, I’m focusing on poetry collections (thus chapters 2 and 4 of the would-be dissertation) and am trying to look at as much material as possible so I’ll know what to focus on a little later.
I have no library pictures to share. I did, however, document my early-morning gondola ride which I took on the Sunday I left for Rome. My friend G (the gondolier) was taking out two apprentices for a lesson, and he very kindly asked if I’d be interested in coming along for the ride. Aside from the inherent interest of seeing this city from the water — and the just plain COOL factor of being an invited guest — it was so interesting to see the craft of voga alla veneta (Venetian rowing) being taught. We were almost run-over by a vaporetto just the other side of the Rialto Bridge, near the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, but came out unscathed. Many thanks to G and his students for letting me hang out!
Pics of some of these adventures can be found in the web album, linked above. (I think one or two is actually interesting. Any guesses?)
Re cell phone: red button to hang up. (Green button is handy, too.)
Re “passing”: if people ask me directions, it’s because I’m not carrying a map.
Long story short: I had a great time in Rome but caught a bad cold. Being in bed for two days has made be both stir-crazy and behind in absolutely everything.
I couldn’t resist sharing with you this tidy little package from the farmacista, though. Makes decongestant and throat lozenges seem like a little gift.
Why is Orazio Vecchi’s L’Amfiparnaso being performed the very day I have to go to Rome? Why?
I shouldn’t complain. I did hear a very nice performance of some Monteverdi selections at Palazzo Franchetti last night. (We heard bits of Orfeo, Il ballo delle ingrate, and Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, if you must know.) After the first wave of geeky pleasure — as in, “I’m in Venice…and I’m listening to Monteverdi!” — I was most charmed by the vaporetti passing by the windows. What can I say…. It was dark out, and the vaporetti were well-lit. Hardly anyone was aboard, and the empty to-ing and fro-ing looked strangely disembodied and Hopper-esque seen through the wall of handblown glass windows.
That’s the uber-special, chocolate-appropriate wine I mentioned a couple of posts ago. And here’s a description that outstrips anything I could muster:
“Barolo and Barbaresco: Big and burly, both made from the nebbiolo grape, they’re aged for up to three years in oak and can develop in bottle for decades. Locals call them the “king and queen” of Piemontese reds and serve them with the region’s heartiest fare including venison, risotto with porcini, and anything with white truffles. Barolo Chinato, seasoned with botanicals such as quinine bark, juniper and rosemary, makes a potent after-dinner digestivo.” — by Rosina Tinari Wilson, “Piemonte,” Wine X Magazine
