Over New Year's break, I was browsing through old photos, and found some photo images I thought I'd put aside to use for practice sketching. Like everyone else, I feel like I've been so busy, and I haven't painted for a bit, so I am really out of practice,... and confidence, too.
My insecurities emerge when I attempt to draw, since I honestly can't draw, but I find that if I just pick up a paintbrush and sort of loosely sketch out shapes with that, and not with a pencil, I'll tend to be loose, because I feel like I'm just playing then, and I'm more relaxed.
It works for me--I'll never produce a masterpiece that way, but it gets me feeling like I'm having fun, and I'm more likely to keep trying if I do that.
And after all, fun is what it's all about in the first place, isn't it? (These were done in an old, small Arches HP block. It's always interesting to me to see the differences in HP paper vs CP.)
"People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing." (-Dale Carnegie)
Stick a fork in my skinny white ass, I’m done. At least, I’m done for the next 10 days – by the time you read this, I’ll be with the Lovely Ladies in Italy, first in Bergamo, for the wedding of the lovely Lisa Armstrong and the equally fragrant Michael Heraghty, and then on to Lake Garda (right) for a week. Looking forward to it … It’s been a busy, busy year – I really can’t remember the last time I looked forward to a holiday so much. The month I spent in the Greek islands with my brother, maybe, ‘researching’ a novel. If that novel is ever written, it’ll be about White Russians, and the entire soundtrack will be the Stones augmented by Don Henley’s The Boys of Summer. Met a guy on Ios during that holiday, actually. He walked into the Orange Bar barefoot, wearing a three-quarter length coat and white duck trousers, naked from the waist up, deeply tanned. He was rough around in the edges, and was the spitting image of El Dudalero Lebowski. That was the start of the White Russians, if memory serves. Anyway, I bought a round of Caucasians and brought one over to him. He just looked at me. I said, ‘Y’know, the Dude always drinks White Russians.’ He said, ‘Uh, sorry, man?’ I said, ‘The movie, The Big Lebowski.’ ‘Sorry, man, never heard of it.’ ‘You’ve never heard of The Big Lebowski?’ Cue shifty glance right and left. ‘I’ve, uh, had reason to be out of the jurisdiction for some time now.’ Nice. So, Italy beckons, and I can’t wait – I’m already seeing long, lazy evenings on village squares drinking too much wine and eating too much pasta. Poor old Lily’s routine is about to be knocked into orbit … It’s the first proper holiday I’ve had in 12 months. The last holiday I had, I got stuck on a road-trip from Toronto to Baltimore with John McFetridge, who spent the entire nine days teaching me the rules of baseball. Or Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules of Writing. Or some such thing ... There were rules, I remember that much. So that doesn’t count. I’ve only ever been to Italy twice before, once to Sicily, the other time a stop-over at Milan airport, where I was accosted by an Alsatian sniffer dog and an armed cop, demanding to know what drugs I was smuggling, this at 8am, while I was hungover in the basement of hell, having flown out of Athens before dawn after a full night’s drinking with some Australian photographers. Sicily was nice, if I remember correctly … The best bit was when I discovered that ‘the bill’ in Italian is ‘il cunto’. I was storming into restaurants to pay for strangers’ meals after I heard that … Anyway, I’ll see you all back here some time near the end of the month. In the meantime, here’s Don Henley’s The Boys of Summer. Roll it there, Collette ...
“To build a city where it is impossible to build a city is madness in itself, but to build there one of the most elegant and grandest of cities is the madness of genius.”(-Alexander Herzen)
Venice is truly the Queen of the Adriatic.
Several years ago, I spent some time in this most magical of places that's like no other, and I was captivated as so many others have been.
I was there during the summer months, when the evening cafe concert music filled the Piazza San Marco, and the gentle waters lapped against the square.The pigeons that flocked to the square during the daylight hours disappeared for the night.In their place, people danced to the sounds of the dueling musicians around the piazza, and the Caffe Florian, built in 1720, with its ballooning white curtains over arched colonnades, opened its arms to me, as it has to visitors for centuries.
Everywhere in Venice, there are boats: vaporetto that carry you from island to island, and the wonderful gondolas seem to glide effortlessly, shimmering across the water.One wanders through Venice as through a maze, discovering beautiful piazzas at every turn, but here is a maze where you could willingly remain lost forever.
It’s been a good week for our humble tome THE BIG O, folks. Not only did it ascend at one point to the nosebleed-worthy heights of 33,128 (whoo-hoo!) on the Amazon.com rankings, but the rumours of foreign translations, in the wake of the Frankfurt bun-fight, grow stronger by the day. For lo! Apparently there’s an Italian publisher showing ‘strong interest’ in foisting THE BIG O on an unsuspecting Italian public, which would be pretty cool given that I have very fond memories of finishing the second-to-last draft of said tome on the Aeolian island of Lipari, this during the holiday that I proposed to my wife. Nice. Just as intriguing is the news that there’s ‘very strong interest’ from a German publisher, even though I’ve never finished any drafts of anything in Germany, nor managed even so much as a smooch with a fraulein. Still, crime fiction seems to be coming strong in Germany in the last few years in particular – at least, we presume it’s still coming strong, even though we haven’t heard from our old friend Bernd Kochanowski in ages. Bernd? If you’re out there, buddy, just send a carrier pigeon … Finally, it’s been confirmed that a Hungarian publisher will inflict THE BIG O on its nation’s denizens next year, which news is the kind to tickle my always flabber-prone gast. Yes, yes, I appreciate that such developments represent small potatoes to the more established scribes among you, but given that THE BIG O was originally a co-published book put together on a budget of three bent paper-clips and a snapped elastic band, the idea that it’ll see the light in Hungarian is simultaneously hilarious and poignant. Like, Hungary? You’re kidding, right? You’re not? Oh … To celebrate, I’m going to run the new and improved ‘book trailer’ devised by Shay Bagnall, the entirely immodest new-and-improved elements being some blurbs that were kindly delivered by John Connolly, Reed Farrel Coleman and Booklist - plus a cute little ‘smoking gun’ add-on the Baggsman threw in for giggles. Hell, smoke ’em if you got ’em, right? Roll it there, Collette …
Across the headlands The forest masses Under gray skies
And mist Into a solid wall Of muted gray Through which cars Glide skirting noiselessly The rocky edge. Through a window I watch, windows are For watching -
When drudgery and care impose themselves, Each request and promise a feather turned to brick, Even the strong and stalwart plead for Kind relief.What wise soul first decreed an Ending to weekly trials?…with Sunday comics, Naps and leisurely brunch…time to arrange flowers, Dogs curled at your feet, and a stack of good books nearby.
Of all the places I’ve ever visited, Italy by far affected me the most viscerally. I traveled fairly extensively all over the country and loved every inch of it. It quickly became evident to me why this country has produced so many artists.
Even in the heart of modern day cosmopolitan Rome, there is such prodigiously rich history evident everywhere you turn, with dramatic ruins like the ancient Colosseum and the magnificence of the Vatican to explore.
As a young girl, I wanted to be an archeologist after I read about the lost city of Pompeii. When I had the opportunity to travel there, walking the same stone roads that were covered with ash and rubble so many years ago, I was transported, thinking about the lives that were lived and lost there.The roads are paved with small shards of stone that glisten at night, and in ancient Pompeii, they helped to guide the way well before the future advent of street lights. One can still see incredible frescoes and get a feel for what life must have been like for those ancient Romans. Nearby, the stunningly beautiful Capri and Amalfi coast overlooking pristine blue waters are gems in the Italian landscape. Sorrento and Anacapri, with its hairpin turns up the mountainside, offer views that will remain forever in my mind.
Firenze, (or Florence) is a cultural mecca: the birthplace of so many artists, scientists, philosophers, it was the seat of the Renaissance.The Duomo, Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi galleries,amazing piazzas… and some of the best gelato I ever tasted, came from Florence.
And the Tuscany hillsides and Umbria are bewitching and lovely, dotted with poplar and olive trees, miles and miles of sunflower fields, and the Chianti grapes that make the region special. I visited the Castello Vicchiomaggio, in the Greve valley, which figured in the movie Much Ado About Nothing, and enjoyed dinner and a wine-tasting at that glorious vineyard.
When I arrived in Venezia, I stayed on the beautiful island of Lido, (home of the famous film festival) and explored that area, then took a vaporetto across the lagoon to the main island, as well as the charming islands of Burano and Murano.The meandering canals are a maze, and one can easily get lost, but at every turn, there are wonderful surprises with gondolas, quaint outdoor cafes, open shutters on windows, flowers spilling forth and walking bridges. At night, the Piazza San Marco is alive with music and a sensual dolce vite like nowhere else.
I confess I did ride in a gondola, and I’m so glad I did.I don’t care if it’s touristy; it’s an experience I’ll savour forever.Nearby, close to Lake Garda, is Verona, the home of “Romeo and Juliet,” a lovely town where you can shop for fruits and vegetables in amazing market places amidst glorious frescoes and statues/fountains.
When I planned my trip to Italy, I thought that I’d see the country and discover that one place I wanted to return to, but I wound up falling in love with all of Italy.The northern lake region is positively stunning.I visited Lago Maggiore, and from there, took a boat ride to one of the Borromean islands, aptly named Isola Bella, with its Italianate gardens and vistas of the spectacular Swiss mountains in the distance.I’ll never forget Lago Maggiore, with the hydrangeas bursting over the roads, lush and glorious, and its views of villas on the lake and the distant mountains of Switzerland.Milan, a fascinating city in the northern Lombardi region, once had as many canals as Venice, I learned, until Mussolini had them paved over.
One day, I hope to have the chance to return to Italy, but until then, I'll cherish the memories of that astonishingly beautiful country and carry them in my heart.
“The Creator made Italy from designs by Michelangelo.”(-Mark Twain)
“The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.”
(-Sydney J Harris)
In Italy, you cannot help but notice the windows.They often have shutters that lift outwards, or they’re opened with the ubiquitous geraniums perched on the ledges inside, or sometimes, they’re wide open with people leaning out of lacy curtains, chatting with other people on the ground below.Many have laundry strewn from one window to another, giving onlookers a voyeuristic view of who the inhabitants are, by the clothes that hang so languidly in the sun.
In an essay in the NY Times, under his "At Home Abroad" column, Anthony Lewis once said: "...Italy is evidence that there is more to life--a civilized life--than the unregulated competition of the market. There are values of humanity, culture, beauty, community that may require deviations from the cold logic of market theory. So I am convinced after spending some weeks in Italy this summer."
Italians know how to live in the moment.They savor what’s before them, from the glorious art that surrounds them in piazzas, to the flavors in the foods and wines they produce and consume, to the conversations they’re engaged in, at that moment.Their buildings are ancient, and they have an enormous pride in them, and recognize their magnificence. Italy's natural world of mountains, hillsides, lakes, and canals throughout the countryside are just breathtakingly beautiful. While the Italians want to be successful, they don’t want that at the expense of beauty, and they’re not concerned with development, because they don’t want to lose what is a true sense of community. Farms are not huge conglomerates the way they typically are here in America. Businesses are profitable, but not cut-throat, for the most part. Cafes and trattorias are more interested in a steady, reliable, relaxed clientele than in a fancy name. Certainly there are exclusive leather goods shops and fashion centers, like Milan, but even there, la famiglia is the center of the business, as a rule.
I found that very endearing while I traveled throughout Italy.I’ve been to numerous other countries, and thoroughly enjoyed them all, but I had a visceral response to Italy that I’ve never felt in any other place.
I guess I agree with Guiseppe Verdi, who said, “You may have the universe if I may have Italy.”
It works for me--I'll never produce a masterpiece that way, but it gets me feeling like I'm having fun, and I'm more likely to keep trying if I do that.
And after all, fun is what it's all about in the first place, isn't it? (These were done in an old, small Arches HP block. It's always interesting to me to see the differences in HP paper vs CP.)
