Part 5. The Sun over the Hills of the Giants. Athens and Rome.
[I apologize that this has taken me so long to put down, its' just that when I start reliving the time I spent in Italy I get angry, and I have to walk away. I think you'll see why]
I landed In Greece about the First week in June. It was blistering, and although I was used to heat and humidity in New Guinea it was always overcast there, I'm led to understand its because New Guinea is so close to the Equator- where the water comes to warm up to make its trip north (this is what causes wind-who'd of thought?). The sky was as clear and blue in Greece as to remind one of lapis lazuli and the sun was so bright you had to cover your eyes in the shade. I breezed my way through customs and made my way to my Hotel, it wasn't bad...Shall we say that in the shared bathroom down the hall there was no Bidet. I got myself some dinner and I walked around the city. It is just amazing to me how small Athens is considering where it is and the significance it has to Europe and the world. This is the crossroads of East and West. It has been for almost 2,000 years. It and Rome were the western most points for the prophets of the bible, It was where Democracy was born as well as logical thought, Where men began to question how the world worked and didn't just assume that it was (the) God(s) at work. Thus began Science for its own sake and the birth place of higher mathematics. And yet Athens was about the smallest capital city I visited, with the possible exception of Port Moresby. I awoke and had breakfast during which I met a lovely Australian woman who gave me a warning when she heard about my trip to Rome, She spoke of the problem the Italian Government had had about 5 years prior, seemed that the coins used in their currency was leaving the country with such expediency as souvenirs that they couldn't mint it fast enough. SO the Italian Government in its ultimate wisdom told the banks they could print their own currency up to about !,000 lire. I was headed to the Acropolis, she was heading to the beach. SO I asked her if she'd like to join me for dinner. She accepted under the condition that she might stay at the beach until later. I agreed to this condition and caught a bus headed for the Acropolis (made up of the words Akron -edge and Polis City), home of the Parthenon-the temple to Athena & The porch of the caryatids, Sanctuary of Artemis, the theater if Dionysus, amongst many other buildings. One cannot help but think of Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Euclid, Archimedes and all the other Giants to the modern world when one is walking on those stones. The present state of the Parthenon can be blamed on the Ottoman Turk army who used the building for storing their munitions, that and the pollution that Athens suffers from. I wandered down over to the porch of the caryatids where I was told that one of the caryatids was actually a duplicate. The Greek government was in the process of attempting restoration of the whole acropolis. There was talk of a huge plastic bubble that would cover it. I walked all over the acropolis that day and saw almost all there was to see. My new friend didn't make dinner so I ate alone and went to bed. The next day I headed for the Cultural museum. I had seen the Greek collections in a variety of museums however I was interested in what they had maintained for their own collection. I saw the early Kuros figures, grave marker statues that resembled the Egyptian in their poses, but with this really disturbing archaic smile on their faces....The figures began to take on more naturalism...IE the Greeks began with what the Egyptians had done and then began to look at the human figure and learn from it. Then the huge break through of dividing the figure into 1/4's and allowing the weight to placed on one leg and allowing the arms to move in another plane then the legs. I saw the statues that they kept form the Parthenon and promised myself that I would check out the Elgin Marbles when I got to England. I spent the rest of my week in that museum drawing and comparing what I had learned in Egypt to what I saw here. The pieces began to fit together.
At the end of the week I made the trip that I had looked forward to for as long as I had made the decision to go into art as a lifestyle and career. I was going to Rome and then Florence. I enjoyed the artwork and I'm glad I went... however if I never step on Italian soil again I'll be just as fine as frog's hair with that circumstance. I feel that I should make a few disclaimers here. First My mother was 100% Italian from Boston, making me half. I adored my mother and love quite a few members of my Italian Family. Second, my Grandparents were from Northern Italy, and I adored them also. I can't help feeling that they were amongst the smart ones who left the country to never move back. Finally, My favorite period in Art is the Italian Renaissance. However After having spent a grand total of about 16 days there I understand why God Put the Mediterranean Sea on three sides of it and the Alps on the 4th, He wanted to keep those people contained.
I landed in Rome and made a few phone calls to find myself a hotel. I found one that seemed reasonable and fairly cheap. I spent one night there and found the place just a bit strange (the lady that ran it kept looking at me like I had antlers.) SO the next day I explored and found another place to sleep, the entrance was around the corner from the Via Nazionale, a main drag through Rome. It was an old place, from the looks of it. That I believe had one other person staying there. The ancient Elevator that consisted of a wrought Iron cage that climbed and sank within an open framework dated from the early part of the century and was no longer working. The sign that said out of order was hand written in Italian, English, German and French. The sign looked to be older then I was. I was given a double room for the price of a single and it had it's own bathroom and was cheaper then the place I just left. The people running it were a married couple, both in their 50's. She was the room maid and he was the desk clerk. After I checked in I found out what bus I needed to get on and headed for the Vatican. I had about 3 hours before the whole of Rome was going to close for lunch. I made for the Sistine Chapel and was struck dumb by what I saw there. I am sure that any and all are familiar with Michelangelo's ceiling and possibly the mural on the west wall of the Last Judgment. This is only one part of it. There are murals of the life of Christ done by such as Perugino and Botticelli. However I approached the last judgment as one might walk against the wind during a hurricane. The power of that work was overwhelming, It hit me, again and again and again. The dynamo of the design drew me in and repelled me simultaneously. I saw the hand of Christ passing judgment as the saints rose as though weightless and the sinners were ferried off to Hell. After about 10 minutes I looked up. I saw the ceiling and its depiction of the ancestors of Christ. It seemed to be impossible. It seemed to be heroic, It pulled me up into it and my head began to spin...I saw God create the universe and then create man with a shy almost frightened Eve under his arm. I saw the fall of man, I saw Noah, I saw the sibyls and prophets and their helpers....I saw the walls with all the other murals of the life of Christ and then returned to the Last Judgment...It hammered me again with refreshed vengeance. At the end of about an hour I staggered out of there feeling as if I had been worked over by a platoon of marines. I came to the instant realization that whatever progress I had made in the year that I had studied before and in New Guinea counted as a drop of water next to the ocean of what I had just seen, the road ahead of me was a hard one and all uphill. I felt shame that I had even considered calling myself an “artist”. I felt as though I was unworthy to be spat on by the men who had created what was in that one room. I considered going back in, I had about an hour before they would close it up....I slowly re entered with the proper amount of humility. The beating was less violent. I sat and opened my sketchbook. I began to draw. I drew until they officially asked me to leave as they had emptied the room minutes before. I'm sure that if they hadn't thrown me out I'd have been there for days. I left begrudgingly and got myself some lunch. I met a Jewish girl who asked if she could join me. She saw my sketchbook and the fact that I was pretty shaken up. I told her of what had happened. She asked if I could go with her the next day to see St. Peters, as she knew little about Art and nothing about Christianity would I help her understand what it was she was looking at. I agreed. I returned I wandered aimlessly and eventually returned to my hotel. The evening was a restless one for me, for some reason every time I nodded off the glass in the windows of my room would begin to vibrate as though they weren't actually fixed in place, but Each examination proved that although the caulk was chipped and broken the windows were sound. I woke up and did my laundry in the sink. I jumped on the bus heading to the Vatican. Within a few minutes I felt a man brush up against me and then there was a bump in the road and as he fell away from me I found his hand my pocket. I dragged him to the front of the bus and told the driver that I had just caught this guy trying to pick my pocket. There was an exchange between the thief and the driver. The driver pulled to the side of the road and opened the door and motioned me off of the bus. I looked at him and said “I was the one being robbed!” he nodded and pointed out the door. I was thrown off because I had caught the guy. I walked the rest of the way to St. Peters Square, made my way past the huge columns that separate it from Rome and I met my new friend by the obelisk as we had planned. We entered St. Peters Basilica. The mother church of Catholicism. There has been a church on this spot since the 4th century. There are no words to suggest the scale of this place. The term cavernous might work, however doesn't. Mammoth or Grand just don't measure up either. Its big enough to be three Cathedrals, (it holds up to 60.000 people) and every corner, every square inch is covered in some form of decoration. Of course they've been working on the place for about 600 years. I did what I could to explain what it was we were looking at, when they closed for lunch I bid my new friend goodbye and I walked the grounds of Vatican city and stumbled upon what I believe was a Funeral Chapel. I've never seen any pictures of this place other then the ones that I took. The painting over the Alter was in the Style of Grunwald, although I've never it reproduced before and my picture of it came out pretty dark. The place was done in black stone probably granite polished to a mirror and white marble polished the same. The only other decoration in this Chapel was the 3 carved representations of a cloaked death figure holding a scythe over the stone sarcophagi of some un named individuals. One on each side of the Alter and the third on the side wall near the back. It was small in scale compared to Basilica. However the same size as one would expect a good size church to be. I took some photo's and left as I came in. Since it was about two and every place was closed for lunch (and would be until about 4-5 pm) I got on a bus that I assumed would take me to the Colosseum It eventually did. And Yes I can attest to the fact that there is indeed a place on the grounds of the Colosseum where they keep stray cats. And yes they do feed them day old spaghetti. The Colosseum loomed large against the sky and the even the ruin after centuries of neglect and being stripped of its marble to burn into quick lime was impressive. I stood close to a tour group and over heard about its separate uses, supposedly they even had naval battles in there, which is impressive. I decided to head back to my room about 4, drop off my drawing supplies and camera and get some dinner. When I came into my room it looked like someone had taken the whole place and turned it upside down. Only righting it moments before I came in. The drawers of the dresser were pulled out and dumped on the floor, the bed was stripped and the sheets flung over the lamp by the table, my suitcase had been dumped, my clothes scattered about the floor...my extra pads of paper were tossed to different parts of the room...It looked like somebody had been looking for something. The only other time I'd ever seen that sorta “looking for something” was when a friend's visiting brother lost a gram of cocaine at my friends house. He tore that place apart looking for it and it was only found an hour later after being accidentally thrown in the trash while the brother was asking after a crow bar to start pulling up the floor. I went to the desk clerk and asked him to come with me, I t hought I'd been robbed, however a quick accounting showed that nothing worth anything was missing. I took him to my room and asked him for an explanation. He looked and said nothing, bringing his wife who's job it was to clean the rooms and change the bedding. She looked into the room and turned as white as a sheet and crossed herself. They had an exchange quietly in Italian, and she scurried off to get some bedding. The desk clerk/ owner apologized and told me it was a big mistake. If I went out and got my dinner it would all be straightened up by time I returned. It was, however amongst my personal things that had been in my suit case and were now laid on the bed, the sketchbook that I had filled up in Cairo and Greece was no longer amongst my things. The managers wife swore to me that she had not taken it, and had put all my things she found about the room back on the bed. There was one addition to the room. They had left a Bible on the dresser. I had yet another troubled night in the room. It seemed that I would wake up to the sound of the glass in the windows vibrating and it would stop almost the exact instant my eyes would open. I woke up about 4-5 times that night to this. Finally at about 5 am I just got up and read till I was sure I could get some breakfast. I had decided to see something that I had read about that day. The catacombs or the church of the Capochene Monks. This is a small church and over the century's they had run out of room to bury their own dead, so they picked an anonymous monk to exhume the dead and “do something” with the remains, so this ingenious monk used the bones as decorative elements, such as constructing candelabra in each of the 4-5 bays of the catacombs, decorating the ceilings in decorative patterns using the bones as one would chips in a mosaic. He stacked the shoulder blades and hips to construct small insets into the wall to house particular remains, like a bas relief tomb. I had read about this place and found the concept fascinating. As I walked toward the church I stood next to a girl on a street corner waiting for a traffic light. She had a bad case of the hiccups. I mean every time she hiccuped she jumped a little in the air. I asked her if she understood English. She nodded she did. I told her to take 5 deep breaths and to get all the air out after each. I then demonstrated what I meant. Then I told her with the 5th deep breath to hold it in and to count to 10 before exhaling very slowly. I demonstrated this too. I told her that if she did this her hiccups would go away. I turned and crossed the street feeling like I'd done my good deed for the day. About a block and a half later I heard some guy behind me yelling curse words (I'd heard a few of these coming out of my Italian Grandfather's mouth when he'd hit himself on the thumb with a hammer so I recognized a couple of them) and running up the street. In his hands was what looked like a switchblade (it had that pointed blade that all switchblades seem to have) and not a little one either, and he was running straight for me. As I saw him coming and looking straight at me I decided to keep out of his way. I started waking faster and eventually ran. When I turned the corner I knew it was me he was after cause he turned the corner too. I out ran this guy (about the last time I'd do that in my life) and lost him after a few blocks...the only thing I can come up with was that the girl was his girlfriend and she either didn't understand English that well, or he saw me talking to her and got the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the last time that I was almost killed while in Italy. After the church of the Capochene monks I headed back to the Vatican to see the Vatican museums. The Church claimed first dibs on anything that was dug up in the world. The collection of both Greek and roman copies of Greek art is unsurpassed in the world. I studied the “lacoon and his sons” and many of the other sculptures, I sat and filled my sketchbook with as many things as would take my interest, and there were many. When Rome broke for lunch I decided I would too. I recalled seeing what looked like a Deli on my way in and decided that a sandwich was probably the best way to work it. I still wanted to check out some of the Roman Ruins that were in pockets around Rome. I entered and ordered a sandwich, some cheese and a small bottle of wine. I paid for my purchase and headed toward the closest collections of Ruins from there. I sat in the shade, leaning up a brick wall that had once been sheathed in marble, had been built about 2,000 years before and ate my lunch. There was something funny about the sandwich, which I assumed had to do with the spices. After lunch I made for the Pantheon. The Pantheon is the most complete of Ancient Rome's buildings. It was built in 126 AD with a typical columned front that one would expect from a Roman Temple but the Pantheon itself a large Dome. It being the largest in the world till 1436 when Florence's Cathedral was built (we'll get into that when we go to Florence) The thing is its' made completely of reinforced concrete. Yes, the Romans invented Reinforced Concrete. It was a temple to all gods (thus Pantheon) but was converted into a church In the late 6th or early 7th century. The only light source within is an occulous (a hole in the ceiling) in the exact center of the dome the occulous is surrounded by ever increasing in size coffers which lightened the weight of the concrete and gave an incredible visual effect and decorated with different kinds and colors of stone. It was also about 20 degrees cooler in there then outside. The place is breathtaking. As a matter of fact when Rome was being sacked by pagans (I'll try and remember which group it was) they broke in ready to sack the Pantheon, upon entering grew quiet, decided that this place must remain intact and closed the doors behind them as the left. I visited the grave of Raphael who's remains are kept there with other Italians who's accomplishments gave them the honor to be buried in the hall of all the Gods. I made my way out. By this time is was getting on dinner time but surprisingly I didn't feel hungry. I felt tired, sweaty and clammy- I attributed it to all the walking I was doing. I headed back to the hotel and crawled into the bed. I awoke at about 2-3 AM needing to throw up. I did it again about 10 minutes later, and again about 10 minutes after that. I crawled back into bed, it was only a few minutes after that the diarrhea began. I spent the rest of my night feeling like I was going to throw up, and sitting on the toilet. I felt like shit the next day so I stayed in bed until after noon. This had all the earmarks of food poisoning. Probably from the sandwich I'd eaten the day before. I spent the day in bed feeling miserable. The next day I struggled up and got dressed and headed out. I was heading to the basilica of St. Peter in chains. The church itself was built the middle of the 5th century and houses the Moses done by Michelangelo as part of a planned 40 statue tomb for Julius II (most of the statues of 'bound slaves' were meant for this tomb), ( and yeah this was the same guy who talked him into painting the ceiling.) and although the tomb was meant for St. Peters it ended up here. Along with Julius II this is the burial place of Antonio Polliauolo, a Renaissance artist who's work I had admired. I walked into the church and towards the Moses. He is sitting and is still huge, as I recall the stature is almost 8'-9' tall. Michelangelo felt that this was his greatest piece. A scar left by a hammer blow on the statue's knee attest to a story that Michelangelo hit his Moses in the knee with his hammer and said “SPEAK”. I've heard the same story associated with Donatello when working on his statue of the prophet Habakkuk, while he was shaping the statues mouth he Yelled “there now, speak damn you!” I studied the statue from all directions and finally did a drawing of one of the hands. When I was finished I went to the back of the church into the souvenir shop so I could by a postcard of the statue. The man behind the counter gave me my change in bank script. I had been warned about this in Greece, but I still wasn't feeling well so I asked him “I'll be able to spend this, Right?” and the guy assured me I could spend it anywhere. I spent the next 3 days getting rid of it, the last straw was when a woman begging crumbled it up threw it back at me and then spat on me. I got rid of it, but that will come later. Later that day I almost got run down by a car, I ended up damn near sitting on his hood while he swore at me in Italian. I was on my way to the Art Supply store to buy some black ink. I had learned what the word “black” was in Italian and went in to by some black ink. I ended up miming the whole thing using the word for black. They applauded, and sold me the ink. Except that as I found out when I went to use it, it was blue. When I returned to my hotel I was still feeling kinda queasy so I took a long hot shower. I felt the hot water cascade down my body and when I opened my eyes I saw through the translucent shower curtain something about the size of a person move across the room. I pulled the curtain aside and found myself alone in the bathroom. I assured myself that it was just the food poisoning that was playing tricks with my eyes. I had 2 days left in Rome and went to confirm my flight to Florence. I stood in line behind a 400lb unwashed and unshaven Transvestite until I stood in front of the ticket agent. I was informed that the Florence airport was closed. Why? No reason. At the top of the tourist season they just decided to close the airport. SO...I needed to buy a train ticket-this worked cause I was in need of some Lire and the best exchange rate was to be had at the train station. I took the bus to where the bus station and the train station are separated by a large paved square. I saw to my left that some communists were having a political Rally with banners and somebody yelling through a megaphone. I saw that on the right about 100 yards away from where the Communists were what I assumed were some Catholic Democrats or some other political party having an equally loud and 'colorful' Political Rally. I saw where I needed to go, set my brain on automatic and headed that way. I refocused my brain to my immediate surroundings when I saw the first tear gas grenade land about 10 yards in front of me. I looked around me and in my wake the two political groups had met and were involved in a battle. There was cursing, fists flying, screaming....and the Police, who were probably on hand for just such and outburst. Thank God I had my passport with me in my hand as I needed ID to cash the British Pound Travelers checks to turn into Lire. The biggest Cop I've ever seen (He looked like a gorilla in a uniform) was about to lay me out with a club. I saw him through my tearing eyes and I threw my hands up defensively and held my Passport in his face. I screamed “AMERICAN CITIZEN!!!!!” The Gorilla in the uniform stopped his swing and yelled “WHAT ARE YOU DO HERE?” I said “Going to the train station to exchange money!” He yelled “YOU GO NOW!” and I did, and as I did, I yelled back “ I can't get out of this goddamn asylum fast enough!” It took me about an hour to wash the stuff from my eyes while in the train station. I was getting mad. This Town was a zoo and I had one or two more things I needed to do before I got the hell out of there. The more I thought about it the angrier I got. I had come there in good faith and had about every kind of shit dumped on me. Oh, if only I had known. I told the guy selling tickets the date that I wanted to go and made sure he understood it was for two days from then. I left the train station and walked to the bus station, there was some trash, a couple of signs and a few puddles of blood to mark the scuffle I had almost been a statistic in and I climbed on the bus and thought to myself that this city was weirder then New York, probably cause they had had about 2,500 years longer to work on it. I got some dinner and I returned to my hotel. I had an especially long night as I was still pretty angry at what had happened during my stay and it seemed that every time I drifted off to sleep the glass would begin to vibrate in the windows, Until I opened my eyes and sat up and then all I heard was the sound of the city below. I also got this weird feeling that someone was in the room with me watching me sleep. The next day, I went to the Museo Galeria Borghello. This place was sorta like the Frick Museum in New York. It was somebodies house and on display was their art collection. They had Bernini's ( the architect of St. Peter's while they were working on the inside of the church. He was such and incredible sculptor there were rumor's he'd sold his soul to the devil. He was having an affair with a married woman, caught her in bed with his brother, chased his brother into St. Peters and damn near beat him to death with an iron rod. Then sent his servant to the woman's house with orders to slash her face and the servant did as he was told.) 'Apollo and Daphne', 'Pluto and Proserpina', and his 'David'. We're talking high Baroque here-these sculptures look like people locked in mid step. They had Raphael's 'The deposition' and his 'Girl with a Unicorn in her lap'. It was so much like Da Vinci's Mona Lisa there was talk of Plagiarism, so Raphael painted a sheep with a horn on it's head sitting on her lap just to end the talk. It is the closest one can come to seeing the actual color that Da Vinci' used in his Mona Lisa. They had Caravaggio's 'David with the head of Goliath', as well as a few others. The had a smattering of Canova's sculptures He was more idealized in his portrayal of the human figure. I thoroughly enjoyed the day. I hadn't eaten so I went to a local restaurant and then went to the Fountain of the 4 rivers By Bernini. I sat and drew until dusk. Then I went back to my hotel. On the way home I accidentally bumped into a 20 year old and he needed to make something of it, So I got into a yelling match with him. It takes a lot to make me angry however the anger that I had been boiling up in me that whole week began to come out and I swear I'd have killed the guy if he'd done anything but yell. I went into my room still angry, figuring I needed a nice hot shower, by then it was dark. As I came out of the bathroom I noticed the vibration of the windows that I had been hearing all week and I just snapped. I yelled “CUT IT OUT” and then I could swear I felt somebody behind me and when I turned I could swear that was another face in the mirror along with my own and this one was looking at me. Without thinking I yelled “I'm outa here in the morning so CUT IT OUT!” Then it stopped. I was alone in the room, I not only could see it, I could feel it. SO I went to bed and read until I nodded off, afterwords when I thought about it I can't respond to the question, “Why didn't you just get the hell out of there?' I don't know. I guess I was just so pissed off at all that had happened that I wasn't going to give this place the satisfaction. I can be pretty unreasonable when I get frustrated. I didn't sleep well, However when I woke up to pack and catch the train my missing sketchbook was laying in the middle of the floor. I had one stop I needed to make. I went back to the church of St. Peter in Chains. I walked directly into gift shop and grabbed a couple of postcards and put the piece of bank script that the asshole standing behind the counter had given me days before. He refused to take it. I said nothing as I reached across the counter and grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him across the counter., I held in the air as he began to swear at me in Italian, I said very distinctly “Oh yes, you are going to take this bill back and you will exchange it I don't care if its for postcards, Lire, stamps, wampum or blood, your choice!”. He gave it to me postcards. I swear as God is my witness, If he had refused, I'd have killed him. I made for the train station and was informed that despite my instructions that the ticket I bought was to be for the date I planned to leave, they had sold me one for the day previous. I bought another First class ticket and boarded the train to find that they had oversold the seats. The conductor and I sought me a seat with no luck, So, he began to knock on the private compartments and finally came to a private compartment with (I guessed) a newly married couple or soon to be married couple. There was discussion and finally the male half of the couple agreed to let me have a seat. Then they proceeded to conduct themselves as if they were still by themselves. It's one thing watching that sorta thing on film, Its quite another when your sitting about 2' away from it. I had my eyes glued to my book, however the sounds left little mystery as to what was going on. Next stop Florence.
I landed In Greece about the First week in June. It was blistering, and although I was used to heat and humidity in New Guinea it was always overcast there, I'm led to understand its because New Guinea is so close to the Equator- where the water comes to warm up to make its trip north (this is what causes wind-who'd of thought?). The sky was as clear and blue in Greece as to remind one of lapis lazuli and the sun was so bright you had to cover your eyes in the shade. I breezed my way through customs and made my way to my Hotel, it wasn't bad...Shall we say that in the shared bathroom down the hall there was no Bidet. I got myself some dinner and I walked around the city. It is just amazing to me how small Athens is considering where it is and the significance it has to Europe and the world. This is the crossroads of East and West. It has been for almost 2,000 years. It and Rome were the western most points for the prophets of the bible, It was where Democracy was born as well as logical thought, Where men began to question how the world worked and didn't just assume that it was (the) God(s) at work. Thus began Science for its own sake and the birth place of higher mathematics. And yet Athens was about the smallest capital city I visited, with the possible exception of Port Moresby. I awoke and had breakfast during which I met a lovely Australian woman who gave me a warning when she heard about my trip to Rome, She spoke of the problem the Italian Government had had about 5 years prior, seemed that the coins used in their currency was leaving the country with such expediency as souvenirs that they couldn't mint it fast enough. SO the Italian Government in its ultimate wisdom told the banks they could print their own currency up to about !,000 lire. I was headed to the Acropolis, she was heading to the beach. SO I asked her if she'd like to join me for dinner. She accepted under the condition that she might stay at the beach until later. I agreed to this condition and caught a bus headed for the Acropolis (made up of the words Akron -edge and Polis City), home of the Parthenon-the temple to Athena & The porch of the caryatids, Sanctuary of Artemis, the theater if Dionysus, amongst many other buildings. One cannot help but think of Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Euclid, Archimedes and all the other Giants to the modern world when one is walking on those stones. The present state of the Parthenon can be blamed on the Ottoman Turk army who used the building for storing their munitions, that and the pollution that Athens suffers from. I wandered down over to the porch of the caryatids where I was told that one of the caryatids was actually a duplicate. The Greek government was in the process of attempting restoration of the whole acropolis. There was talk of a huge plastic bubble that would cover it. I walked all over the acropolis that day and saw almost all there was to see. My new friend didn't make dinner so I ate alone and went to bed. The next day I headed for the Cultural museum. I had seen the Greek collections in a variety of museums however I was interested in what they had maintained for their own collection. I saw the early Kuros figures, grave marker statues that resembled the Egyptian in their poses, but with this really disturbing archaic smile on their faces....The figures began to take on more naturalism...IE the Greeks began with what the Egyptians had done and then began to look at the human figure and learn from it. Then the huge break through of dividing the figure into 1/4's and allowing the weight to placed on one leg and allowing the arms to move in another plane then the legs. I saw the statues that they kept form the Parthenon and promised myself that I would check out the Elgin Marbles when I got to England. I spent the rest of my week in that museum drawing and comparing what I had learned in Egypt to what I saw here. The pieces began to fit together.
At the end of the week I made the trip that I had looked forward to for as long as I had made the decision to go into art as a lifestyle and career. I was going to Rome and then Florence. I enjoyed the artwork and I'm glad I went... however if I never step on Italian soil again I'll be just as fine as frog's hair with that circumstance. I feel that I should make a few disclaimers here. First My mother was 100% Italian from Boston, making me half. I adored my mother and love quite a few members of my Italian Family. Second, my Grandparents were from Northern Italy, and I adored them also. I can't help feeling that they were amongst the smart ones who left the country to never move back. Finally, My favorite period in Art is the Italian Renaissance. However After having spent a grand total of about 16 days there I understand why God Put the Mediterranean Sea on three sides of it and the Alps on the 4th, He wanted to keep those people contained.
I landed in Rome and made a few phone calls to find myself a hotel. I found one that seemed reasonable and fairly cheap. I spent one night there and found the place just a bit strange (the lady that ran it kept looking at me like I had antlers.) SO the next day I explored and found another place to sleep, the entrance was around the corner from the Via Nazionale, a main drag through Rome. It was an old place, from the looks of it. That I believe had one other person staying there. The ancient Elevator that consisted of a wrought Iron cage that climbed and sank within an open framework dated from the early part of the century and was no longer working. The sign that said out of order was hand written in Italian, English, German and French. The sign looked to be older then I was. I was given a double room for the price of a single and it had it's own bathroom and was cheaper then the place I just left. The people running it were a married couple, both in their 50's. She was the room maid and he was the desk clerk. After I checked in I found out what bus I needed to get on and headed for the Vatican. I had about 3 hours before the whole of Rome was going to close for lunch. I made for the Sistine Chapel and was struck dumb by what I saw there. I am sure that any and all are familiar with Michelangelo's ceiling and possibly the mural on the west wall of the Last Judgment. This is only one part of it. There are murals of the life of Christ done by such as Perugino and Botticelli. However I approached the last judgment as one might walk against the wind during a hurricane. The power of that work was overwhelming, It hit me, again and again and again. The dynamo of the design drew me in and repelled me simultaneously. I saw the hand of Christ passing judgment as the saints rose as though weightless and the sinners were ferried off to Hell. After about 10 minutes I looked up. I saw the ceiling and its depiction of the ancestors of Christ. It seemed to be impossible. It seemed to be heroic, It pulled me up into it and my head began to spin...I saw God create the universe and then create man with a shy almost frightened Eve under his arm. I saw the fall of man, I saw Noah, I saw the sibyls and prophets and their helpers....I saw the walls with all the other murals of the life of Christ and then returned to the Last Judgment...It hammered me again with refreshed vengeance. At the end of about an hour I staggered out of there feeling as if I had been worked over by a platoon of marines. I came to the instant realization that whatever progress I had made in the year that I had studied before and in New Guinea counted as a drop of water next to the ocean of what I had just seen, the road ahead of me was a hard one and all uphill. I felt shame that I had even considered calling myself an “artist”. I felt as though I was unworthy to be spat on by the men who had created what was in that one room. I considered going back in, I had about an hour before they would close it up....I slowly re entered with the proper amount of humility. The beating was less violent. I sat and opened my sketchbook. I began to draw. I drew until they officially asked me to leave as they had emptied the room minutes before. I'm sure that if they hadn't thrown me out I'd have been there for days. I left begrudgingly and got myself some lunch. I met a Jewish girl who asked if she could join me. She saw my sketchbook and the fact that I was pretty shaken up. I told her of what had happened. She asked if I could go with her the next day to see St. Peters, as she knew little about Art and nothing about Christianity would I help her understand what it was she was looking at. I agreed. I returned I wandered aimlessly and eventually returned to my hotel. The evening was a restless one for me, for some reason every time I nodded off the glass in the windows of my room would begin to vibrate as though they weren't actually fixed in place, but Each examination proved that although the caulk was chipped and broken the windows were sound. I woke up and did my laundry in the sink. I jumped on the bus heading to the Vatican. Within a few minutes I felt a man brush up against me and then there was a bump in the road and as he fell away from me I found his hand my pocket. I dragged him to the front of the bus and told the driver that I had just caught this guy trying to pick my pocket. There was an exchange between the thief and the driver. The driver pulled to the side of the road and opened the door and motioned me off of the bus. I looked at him and said “I was the one being robbed!” he nodded and pointed out the door. I was thrown off because I had caught the guy. I walked the rest of the way to St. Peters Square, made my way past the huge columns that separate it from Rome and I met my new friend by the obelisk as we had planned. We entered St. Peters Basilica. The mother church of Catholicism. There has been a church on this spot since the 4th century. There are no words to suggest the scale of this place. The term cavernous might work, however doesn't. Mammoth or Grand just don't measure up either. Its big enough to be three Cathedrals, (it holds up to 60.000 people) and every corner, every square inch is covered in some form of decoration. Of course they've been working on the place for about 600 years. I did what I could to explain what it was we were looking at, when they closed for lunch I bid my new friend goodbye and I walked the grounds of Vatican city and stumbled upon what I believe was a Funeral Chapel. I've never seen any pictures of this place other then the ones that I took. The painting over the Alter was in the Style of Grunwald, although I've never it reproduced before and my picture of it came out pretty dark. The place was done in black stone probably granite polished to a mirror and white marble polished the same. The only other decoration in this Chapel was the 3 carved representations of a cloaked death figure holding a scythe over the stone sarcophagi of some un named individuals. One on each side of the Alter and the third on the side wall near the back. It was small in scale compared to Basilica. However the same size as one would expect a good size church to be. I took some photo's and left as I came in. Since it was about two and every place was closed for lunch (and would be until about 4-5 pm) I got on a bus that I assumed would take me to the Colosseum It eventually did. And Yes I can attest to the fact that there is indeed a place on the grounds of the Colosseum where they keep stray cats. And yes they do feed them day old spaghetti. The Colosseum loomed large against the sky and the even the ruin after centuries of neglect and being stripped of its marble to burn into quick lime was impressive. I stood close to a tour group and over heard about its separate uses, supposedly they even had naval battles in there, which is impressive. I decided to head back to my room about 4, drop off my drawing supplies and camera and get some dinner. When I came into my room it looked like someone had taken the whole place and turned it upside down. Only righting it moments before I came in. The drawers of the dresser were pulled out and dumped on the floor, the bed was stripped and the sheets flung over the lamp by the table, my suitcase had been dumped, my clothes scattered about the floor...my extra pads of paper were tossed to different parts of the room...It looked like somebody had been looking for something. The only other time I'd ever seen that sorta “looking for something” was when a friend's visiting brother lost a gram of cocaine at my friends house. He tore that place apart looking for it and it was only found an hour later after being accidentally thrown in the trash while the brother was asking after a crow bar to start pulling up the floor. I went to the desk clerk and asked him to come with me, I t hought I'd been robbed, however a quick accounting showed that nothing worth anything was missing. I took him to my room and asked him for an explanation. He looked and said nothing, bringing his wife who's job it was to clean the rooms and change the bedding. She looked into the room and turned as white as a sheet and crossed herself. They had an exchange quietly in Italian, and she scurried off to get some bedding. The desk clerk/ owner apologized and told me it was a big mistake. If I went out and got my dinner it would all be straightened up by time I returned. It was, however amongst my personal things that had been in my suit case and were now laid on the bed, the sketchbook that I had filled up in Cairo and Greece was no longer amongst my things. The managers wife swore to me that she had not taken it, and had put all my things she found about the room back on the bed. There was one addition to the room. They had left a Bible on the dresser. I had yet another troubled night in the room. It seemed that I would wake up to the sound of the glass in the windows vibrating and it would stop almost the exact instant my eyes would open. I woke up about 4-5 times that night to this. Finally at about 5 am I just got up and read till I was sure I could get some breakfast. I had decided to see something that I had read about that day. The catacombs or the church of the Capochene Monks. This is a small church and over the century's they had run out of room to bury their own dead, so they picked an anonymous monk to exhume the dead and “do something” with the remains, so this ingenious monk used the bones as decorative elements, such as constructing candelabra in each of the 4-5 bays of the catacombs, decorating the ceilings in decorative patterns using the bones as one would chips in a mosaic. He stacked the shoulder blades and hips to construct small insets into the wall to house particular remains, like a bas relief tomb. I had read about this place and found the concept fascinating. As I walked toward the church I stood next to a girl on a street corner waiting for a traffic light. She had a bad case of the hiccups. I mean every time she hiccuped she jumped a little in the air. I asked her if she understood English. She nodded she did. I told her to take 5 deep breaths and to get all the air out after each. I then demonstrated what I meant. Then I told her with the 5th deep breath to hold it in and to count to 10 before exhaling very slowly. I demonstrated this too. I told her that if she did this her hiccups would go away. I turned and crossed the street feeling like I'd done my good deed for the day. About a block and a half later I heard some guy behind me yelling curse words (I'd heard a few of these coming out of my Italian Grandfather's mouth when he'd hit himself on the thumb with a hammer so I recognized a couple of them) and running up the street. In his hands was what looked like a switchblade (it had that pointed blade that all switchblades seem to have) and not a little one either, and he was running straight for me. As I saw him coming and looking straight at me I decided to keep out of his way. I started waking faster and eventually ran. When I turned the corner I knew it was me he was after cause he turned the corner too. I out ran this guy (about the last time I'd do that in my life) and lost him after a few blocks...the only thing I can come up with was that the girl was his girlfriend and she either didn't understand English that well, or he saw me talking to her and got the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the last time that I was almost killed while in Italy. After the church of the Capochene monks I headed back to the Vatican to see the Vatican museums. The Church claimed first dibs on anything that was dug up in the world. The collection of both Greek and roman copies of Greek art is unsurpassed in the world. I studied the “lacoon and his sons” and many of the other sculptures, I sat and filled my sketchbook with as many things as would take my interest, and there were many. When Rome broke for lunch I decided I would too. I recalled seeing what looked like a Deli on my way in and decided that a sandwich was probably the best way to work it. I still wanted to check out some of the Roman Ruins that were in pockets around Rome. I entered and ordered a sandwich, some cheese and a small bottle of wine. I paid for my purchase and headed toward the closest collections of Ruins from there. I sat in the shade, leaning up a brick wall that had once been sheathed in marble, had been built about 2,000 years before and ate my lunch. There was something funny about the sandwich, which I assumed had to do with the spices. After lunch I made for the Pantheon. The Pantheon is the most complete of Ancient Rome's buildings. It was built in 126 AD with a typical columned front that one would expect from a Roman Temple but the Pantheon itself a large Dome. It being the largest in the world till 1436 when Florence's Cathedral was built (we'll get into that when we go to Florence) The thing is its' made completely of reinforced concrete. Yes, the Romans invented Reinforced Concrete. It was a temple to all gods (thus Pantheon) but was converted into a church In the late 6th or early 7th century. The only light source within is an occulous (a hole in the ceiling) in the exact center of the dome the occulous is surrounded by ever increasing in size coffers which lightened the weight of the concrete and gave an incredible visual effect and decorated with different kinds and colors of stone. It was also about 20 degrees cooler in there then outside. The place is breathtaking. As a matter of fact when Rome was being sacked by pagans (I'll try and remember which group it was) they broke in ready to sack the Pantheon, upon entering grew quiet, decided that this place must remain intact and closed the doors behind them as the left. I visited the grave of Raphael who's remains are kept there with other Italians who's accomplishments gave them the honor to be buried in the hall of all the Gods. I made my way out. By this time is was getting on dinner time but surprisingly I didn't feel hungry. I felt tired, sweaty and clammy- I attributed it to all the walking I was doing. I headed back to the hotel and crawled into the bed. I awoke at about 2-3 AM needing to throw up. I did it again about 10 minutes later, and again about 10 minutes after that. I crawled back into bed, it was only a few minutes after that the diarrhea began. I spent the rest of my night feeling like I was going to throw up, and sitting on the toilet. I felt like shit the next day so I stayed in bed until after noon. This had all the earmarks of food poisoning. Probably from the sandwich I'd eaten the day before. I spent the day in bed feeling miserable. The next day I struggled up and got dressed and headed out. I was heading to the basilica of St. Peter in chains. The church itself was built the middle of the 5th century and houses the Moses done by Michelangelo as part of a planned 40 statue tomb for Julius II (most of the statues of 'bound slaves' were meant for this tomb), ( and yeah this was the same guy who talked him into painting the ceiling.) and although the tomb was meant for St. Peters it ended up here. Along with Julius II this is the burial place of Antonio Polliauolo, a Renaissance artist who's work I had admired. I walked into the church and towards the Moses. He is sitting and is still huge, as I recall the stature is almost 8'-9' tall. Michelangelo felt that this was his greatest piece. A scar left by a hammer blow on the statue's knee attest to a story that Michelangelo hit his Moses in the knee with his hammer and said “SPEAK”. I've heard the same story associated with Donatello when working on his statue of the prophet Habakkuk, while he was shaping the statues mouth he Yelled “there now, speak damn you!” I studied the statue from all directions and finally did a drawing of one of the hands. When I was finished I went to the back of the church into the souvenir shop so I could by a postcard of the statue. The man behind the counter gave me my change in bank script. I had been warned about this in Greece, but I still wasn't feeling well so I asked him “I'll be able to spend this, Right?” and the guy assured me I could spend it anywhere. I spent the next 3 days getting rid of it, the last straw was when a woman begging crumbled it up threw it back at me and then spat on me. I got rid of it, but that will come later. Later that day I almost got run down by a car, I ended up damn near sitting on his hood while he swore at me in Italian. I was on my way to the Art Supply store to buy some black ink. I had learned what the word “black” was in Italian and went in to by some black ink. I ended up miming the whole thing using the word for black. They applauded, and sold me the ink. Except that as I found out when I went to use it, it was blue. When I returned to my hotel I was still feeling kinda queasy so I took a long hot shower. I felt the hot water cascade down my body and when I opened my eyes I saw through the translucent shower curtain something about the size of a person move across the room. I pulled the curtain aside and found myself alone in the bathroom. I assured myself that it was just the food poisoning that was playing tricks with my eyes. I had 2 days left in Rome and went to confirm my flight to Florence. I stood in line behind a 400lb unwashed and unshaven Transvestite until I stood in front of the ticket agent. I was informed that the Florence airport was closed. Why? No reason. At the top of the tourist season they just decided to close the airport. SO...I needed to buy a train ticket-this worked cause I was in need of some Lire and the best exchange rate was to be had at the train station. I took the bus to where the bus station and the train station are separated by a large paved square. I saw to my left that some communists were having a political Rally with banners and somebody yelling through a megaphone. I saw that on the right about 100 yards away from where the Communists were what I assumed were some Catholic Democrats or some other political party having an equally loud and 'colorful' Political Rally. I saw where I needed to go, set my brain on automatic and headed that way. I refocused my brain to my immediate surroundings when I saw the first tear gas grenade land about 10 yards in front of me. I looked around me and in my wake the two political groups had met and were involved in a battle. There was cursing, fists flying, screaming....and the Police, who were probably on hand for just such and outburst. Thank God I had my passport with me in my hand as I needed ID to cash the British Pound Travelers checks to turn into Lire. The biggest Cop I've ever seen (He looked like a gorilla in a uniform) was about to lay me out with a club. I saw him through my tearing eyes and I threw my hands up defensively and held my Passport in his face. I screamed “AMERICAN CITIZEN!!!!!” The Gorilla in the uniform stopped his swing and yelled “WHAT ARE YOU DO HERE?” I said “Going to the train station to exchange money!” He yelled “YOU GO NOW!” and I did, and as I did, I yelled back “ I can't get out of this goddamn asylum fast enough!” It took me about an hour to wash the stuff from my eyes while in the train station. I was getting mad. This Town was a zoo and I had one or two more things I needed to do before I got the hell out of there. The more I thought about it the angrier I got. I had come there in good faith and had about every kind of shit dumped on me. Oh, if only I had known. I told the guy selling tickets the date that I wanted to go and made sure he understood it was for two days from then. I left the train station and walked to the bus station, there was some trash, a couple of signs and a few puddles of blood to mark the scuffle I had almost been a statistic in and I climbed on the bus and thought to myself that this city was weirder then New York, probably cause they had had about 2,500 years longer to work on it. I got some dinner and I returned to my hotel. I had an especially long night as I was still pretty angry at what had happened during my stay and it seemed that every time I drifted off to sleep the glass would begin to vibrate in the windows, Until I opened my eyes and sat up and then all I heard was the sound of the city below. I also got this weird feeling that someone was in the room with me watching me sleep. The next day, I went to the Museo Galeria Borghello. This place was sorta like the Frick Museum in New York. It was somebodies house and on display was their art collection. They had Bernini's ( the architect of St. Peter's while they were working on the inside of the church. He was such and incredible sculptor there were rumor's he'd sold his soul to the devil. He was having an affair with a married woman, caught her in bed with his brother, chased his brother into St. Peters and damn near beat him to death with an iron rod. Then sent his servant to the woman's house with orders to slash her face and the servant did as he was told.) 'Apollo and Daphne', 'Pluto and Proserpina', and his 'David'. We're talking high Baroque here-these sculptures look like people locked in mid step. They had Raphael's 'The deposition' and his 'Girl with a Unicorn in her lap'. It was so much like Da Vinci's Mona Lisa there was talk of Plagiarism, so Raphael painted a sheep with a horn on it's head sitting on her lap just to end the talk. It is the closest one can come to seeing the actual color that Da Vinci' used in his Mona Lisa. They had Caravaggio's 'David with the head of Goliath', as well as a few others. The had a smattering of Canova's sculptures He was more idealized in his portrayal of the human figure. I thoroughly enjoyed the day. I hadn't eaten so I went to a local restaurant and then went to the Fountain of the 4 rivers By Bernini. I sat and drew until dusk. Then I went back to my hotel. On the way home I accidentally bumped into a 20 year old and he needed to make something of it, So I got into a yelling match with him. It takes a lot to make me angry however the anger that I had been boiling up in me that whole week began to come out and I swear I'd have killed the guy if he'd done anything but yell. I went into my room still angry, figuring I needed a nice hot shower, by then it was dark. As I came out of the bathroom I noticed the vibration of the windows that I had been hearing all week and I just snapped. I yelled “CUT IT OUT” and then I could swear I felt somebody behind me and when I turned I could swear that was another face in the mirror along with my own and this one was looking at me. Without thinking I yelled “I'm outa here in the morning so CUT IT OUT!” Then it stopped. I was alone in the room, I not only could see it, I could feel it. SO I went to bed and read until I nodded off, afterwords when I thought about it I can't respond to the question, “Why didn't you just get the hell out of there?' I don't know. I guess I was just so pissed off at all that had happened that I wasn't going to give this place the satisfaction. I can be pretty unreasonable when I get frustrated. I didn't sleep well, However when I woke up to pack and catch the train my missing sketchbook was laying in the middle of the floor. I had one stop I needed to make. I went back to the church of St. Peter in Chains. I walked directly into gift shop and grabbed a couple of postcards and put the piece of bank script that the asshole standing behind the counter had given me days before. He refused to take it. I said nothing as I reached across the counter and grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him across the counter., I held in the air as he began to swear at me in Italian, I said very distinctly “Oh yes, you are going to take this bill back and you will exchange it I don't care if its for postcards, Lire, stamps, wampum or blood, your choice!”. He gave it to me postcards. I swear as God is my witness, If he had refused, I'd have killed him. I made for the train station and was informed that despite my instructions that the ticket I bought was to be for the date I planned to leave, they had sold me one for the day previous. I bought another First class ticket and boarded the train to find that they had oversold the seats. The conductor and I sought me a seat with no luck, So, he began to knock on the private compartments and finally came to a private compartment with (I guessed) a newly married couple or soon to be married couple. There was discussion and finally the male half of the couple agreed to let me have a seat. Then they proceeded to conduct themselves as if they were still by themselves. It's one thing watching that sorta thing on film, Its quite another when your sitting about 2' away from it. I had my eyes glued to my book, however the sounds left little mystery as to what was going on. Next stop Florence.
posted by ak at 4:31 PM
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