Shrieks. Staccatoed footsteps. PSSSSSSSSSSST! of aerosol spray. Another roach lies writhing on a sidewalk in España, chased from house and home by indignant women. Ningunas de los mujeres españolas aplasta las cucarachas con sus zapatos. (No Spanish women squash cockroaches with their shoes.) Shivers and goosebumps testify to their repulsion, the personal affront.
La Cucaracha, the corrido popularized in the Americas during the Mexican Revolution may have emerged in Spain much earlier. A compilation of folk music published in Sevilla in 1883 references earlier lyrics alluding to the Reconquista in 1492.
1492. The last year of the 69th Chinese sexegenary cycle, a yin water bug year. Waterbug, another name for cockroach. Spread throughout the world via ships.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Stolen Moments - Madrid
I remain at odds with Madrid. It shows. I stall, trying to decide what to say and what not to say. It has been nearly one month. The muscles at the base of my neck contract.
I can say the Juan Muñoz retrospective at the Museo Nacional de Art Reina Sofía was delightful, engaging. I could have spent hours there, wandering among the galleries, looking at the playfulness of the work, a rapt audience to his creative vision and energy.
I can say that the Reina Sofía´s contribution to the 2009 PhotoEspaña, The Atlas Group (1989-2004) Un proyecto de Walid Raad, is a powerful archive of Lebanon´s civil war, documented through both the quotidian and the unimaginable.
Secrets in the Open Seas made concrete the power of saying less in its series of four prints in various shades of blue, color chips from a paint store in which the price was too high. At the bottom of each image, a Pantone number identifies the tint and a single strip of images, printed as if contact prints from a single roll of film, tells the story of the group photographs each frame contained. The images, taken from 29 photographic prints in varying shades of blue, were found in the rubble of Beirut´s downtown commercial district. Every person in the photographs, man and woman, identified by The Atlas Group. Every person dead, in the Mediterranean, during the years of the war.
I can say the Museo Nacional del Prado is magnificent--Guernica, and Picasso's series of charcoal studies of the horrified mother cry out at the unimaginable. So much to see and absorb, the Joaquín Sorolla exhibit is a casualty.
I can say that the Museo de Arte Thyssen-Bornemisza reveals the passion of collecting art, personalizing its depth and highlighting its idiosyncrasies. I can say the museo´s temporary exhibition, Matisse: 1917-1941, is intriguing, revealing the artist´s path in his middle years. Gallery 5, focusing on form, particularly his nudes and the study for the Dance Mural Composition, captures the tension of his work in the early 1930´s.
I can say that My Things, an exhibition of work by Beijing artist Hong Hao at La Galería de Art Dolores de Sierra, part of PhotoEspaña, overwhelms me in a meticulous Where´s Waldo dimension. The minutae of his life broadens into a mosaic that resonates in Spain but offers me nothing new.
I can say that Petra's International Bookshop is a stolen gem of one morning´s hour, a Charing Cross transplant down a small, tucked away Madrid street. An ex-pat's oasis of English language books, some beloved and some still in line on the same shelf since the 1970's. In a word, it is tiny, stacked full of used books, some still in the suitcases in which they were purchased. A pen-and-ink portrait of Petra, the bookshop's eponymous cat, hangs in memorium over the shelf entitled,"Chick Lit." It is about the books; it is about being able to hold them in hand.
I can say that I am left wanting. I reach Madrid Sunday afternoon, too late to visit El Rastro, the famous Madrid flea market. S and I venture forth on a weekday, determined to ferret out some of the shops that parallel the streets that brim with blanket vendors on Sunday mornings. Treasures abound. I find wooden bobbins for making lace. S finds three fans, hand-painted and restorable, and a toy boxed compass. She wins.
I can say that having someone in your group who speaks Arabic and knows Moroccan cuisine can yield the best dining experience of a trip. Mint tea, tagines, incredible. Thank you, S!
I can say that the Madrid Metro is a den of thieves. W loses his camera and euros in two separate incidents. His face tells the story.
I can say that Madrid must work hard to win my affection, despite some stolen moments.
I can say the Juan Muñoz retrospective at the Museo Nacional de Art Reina Sofía was delightful, engaging. I could have spent hours there, wandering among the galleries, looking at the playfulness of the work, a rapt audience to his creative vision and energy.
I can say that the Reina Sofía´s contribution to the 2009 PhotoEspaña, The Atlas Group (1989-2004) Un proyecto de Walid Raad, is a powerful archive of Lebanon´s civil war, documented through both the quotidian and the unimaginable.
Secrets in the Open Seas made concrete the power of saying less in its series of four prints in various shades of blue, color chips from a paint store in which the price was too high. At the bottom of each image, a Pantone number identifies the tint and a single strip of images, printed as if contact prints from a single roll of film, tells the story of the group photographs each frame contained. The images, taken from 29 photographic prints in varying shades of blue, were found in the rubble of Beirut´s downtown commercial district. Every person in the photographs, man and woman, identified by The Atlas Group. Every person dead, in the Mediterranean, during the years of the war.
I can say the Museo Nacional del Prado is magnificent--Guernica, and Picasso's series of charcoal studies of the horrified mother cry out at the unimaginable. So much to see and absorb, the Joaquín Sorolla exhibit is a casualty.
I can say that the Museo de Arte Thyssen-Bornemisza reveals the passion of collecting art, personalizing its depth and highlighting its idiosyncrasies. I can say the museo´s temporary exhibition, Matisse: 1917-1941, is intriguing, revealing the artist´s path in his middle years. Gallery 5, focusing on form, particularly his nudes and the study for the Dance Mural Composition, captures the tension of his work in the early 1930´s.
I can say that My Things, an exhibition of work by Beijing artist Hong Hao at La Galería de Art Dolores de Sierra, part of PhotoEspaña, overwhelms me in a meticulous Where´s Waldo dimension. The minutae of his life broadens into a mosaic that resonates in Spain but offers me nothing new.
I can say that Petra's International Bookshop is a stolen gem of one morning´s hour, a Charing Cross transplant down a small, tucked away Madrid street. An ex-pat's oasis of English language books, some beloved and some still in line on the same shelf since the 1970's. In a word, it is tiny, stacked full of used books, some still in the suitcases in which they were purchased. A pen-and-ink portrait of Petra, the bookshop's eponymous cat, hangs in memorium over the shelf entitled,"Chick Lit." It is about the books; it is about being able to hold them in hand.
I can say that I am left wanting. I reach Madrid Sunday afternoon, too late to visit El Rastro, the famous Madrid flea market. S and I venture forth on a weekday, determined to ferret out some of the shops that parallel the streets that brim with blanket vendors on Sunday mornings. Treasures abound. I find wooden bobbins for making lace. S finds three fans, hand-painted and restorable, and a toy boxed compass. She wins.
I can say that having someone in your group who speaks Arabic and knows Moroccan cuisine can yield the best dining experience of a trip. Mint tea, tagines, incredible. Thank you, S!
I can say that the Madrid Metro is a den of thieves. W loses his camera and euros in two separate incidents. His face tells the story.
I can say that Madrid must work hard to win my affection, despite some stolen moments.
Alhambra - The Red One
The bus winds its way up the hillside, impossibly long bus, impossibly tight corners. Impossible to see even a glimpse of this modern world wonder.
Alhambra-fortress and palace-the red one. It sits atop its hill, guarding the view of Gránada below and hiding its incredible beauty until it slowly unfolds through the Islamic aesthetic of tranquility, cleansing through sight, sound, and scent.
Gardens of roses, orange trees, myrtle and more frame the walls of the fortress and the palace, kept in impeccable array by an army of gardeners.
Intricately carved plaster evokes both elaborate piped icing and continuously forming stalactites, invoking Allah in the repetitive calligraphy and motifs that cover vast walls and ceilings.
Finely tuned geometric patterns dance across richly colored mosaic tile, fancifully interpreting mysteries such as the heavens and the oceans.
Coffered ceilings, pieced from honeyed wood richly highlighted with gold and paint, warm the heavens they represent.
Water burbles softly from serene marble fountains and flows gently in gazing pools lest the view be distorted. They are fonts of gentle sound, saving symphonic overtures for the sea just beyond the mountains to the south.
Quintessential Mudéjar architecture, isolated from mainland Islamic influence, allowed to grow and literally flourish at the hands of hundreds of skilled artists and artisans.
An earthly paradise.
Alhambra-fortress and palace-the red one. It sits atop its hill, guarding the view of Gránada below and hiding its incredible beauty until it slowly unfolds through the Islamic aesthetic of tranquility, cleansing through sight, sound, and scent.
Gardens of roses, orange trees, myrtle and more frame the walls of the fortress and the palace, kept in impeccable array by an army of gardeners.
Intricately carved plaster evokes both elaborate piped icing and continuously forming stalactites, invoking Allah in the repetitive calligraphy and motifs that cover vast walls and ceilings.
Finely tuned geometric patterns dance across richly colored mosaic tile, fancifully interpreting mysteries such as the heavens and the oceans.
Coffered ceilings, pieced from honeyed wood richly highlighted with gold and paint, warm the heavens they represent.
Water burbles softly from serene marble fountains and flows gently in gazing pools lest the view be distorted. They are fonts of gentle sound, saving symphonic overtures for the sea just beyond the mountains to the south.
Quintessential Mudéjar architecture, isolated from mainland Islamic influence, allowed to grow and literally flourish at the hands of hundreds of skilled artists and artisans.
An earthly paradise.
Museos de Sevilla - Archivo General de Indias
Every building in Sevilla´s center is a museum, intact exteriors and extant subterrany, thousands of lifetimes. Constructions projects surely factor in archeological studies as part of the timeline. How much higher is street level in modern times--10 feet, 20 feet, or more?
El Archivo General de Indias captured my imagination in an exhibit called El hila de memoria, The Threads of Memory: Three Centuries of Spanish Presence in the United States. From 1513 to 1822, Spain explored, established missions and forts, and supported the United States in its fight for independence. The exhibit says that this presence is unfamiliar to many Spaniards. It is my pentimento, tracings of a language and culture familiar on many levels of my life in Texas.
People, places--Coronado, Álvarez de Pineda, Navarette, Dolores, San Antonio de Bejar, Los Adaes. . . Maps of the Texas coast, muster books for presidios listing pay owed to foot soldiers and commandantes, correspondence from George Washington.
Coastal map of the Gulf of Mexico, 1544
Archivo General de Indias, Sevilla, España
Designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, the Archivo is a treasure trove of original documents detailing Spain´s history in the Americas. Fittingly, it is housed in a building that once served as a merchant´s exchange, the focal point for Spain´s commerce with its empire.
I eye this thread of entwined history with Spain; it is not yet unraveled.
El Archivo General de Indias captured my imagination in an exhibit called El hila de memoria, The Threads of Memory: Three Centuries of Spanish Presence in the United States. From 1513 to 1822, Spain explored, established missions and forts, and supported the United States in its fight for independence. The exhibit says that this presence is unfamiliar to many Spaniards. It is my pentimento, tracings of a language and culture familiar on many levels of my life in Texas.
People, places--Coronado, Álvarez de Pineda, Navarette, Dolores, San Antonio de Bejar, Los Adaes. . . Maps of the Texas coast, muster books for presidios listing pay owed to foot soldiers and commandantes, correspondence from George Washington.
Coastal map of the Gulf of Mexico, 1544
Archivo General de Indias, Sevilla, España
Designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, the Archivo is a treasure trove of original documents detailing Spain´s history in the Americas. Fittingly, it is housed in a building that once served as a merchant´s exchange, the focal point for Spain´s commerce with its empire.
I eye this thread of entwined history with Spain; it is not yet unraveled.
Incisive Moments
Penas tiene mi mare
penas tengo yo y las que siento
son las de mi mare que las mis no.
Heart wrenching strains of a cante jondo grip my heart and stop me mid-stride.
Overhead the sound bubble showers the aching music over me, drawing me into Prohibido El Cante. Flamenco Y Fotografía, an exhibit at the Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo.
Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo is a converted monastery, repurposed as a regional arts center. Its walls and spaces echo its cloistered past,
and oddly contain and soften the sounds and images of flamenco captured in the exhibit.
Part of PhotoEspaña, a year-long celebration of photography, the 200 photographs of Prohibido El Cante span an intriguing aesthetic of dance, music, artistic vision and technique. Visually drawn to flamenco, artists such as Robert Capa, Man Ray, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Ortiz Echagüe, Isabel Muñoz, Paco Sánchez and 64 others sought to elicit the passion, the movement through gelatin silver, photogravure, carbon fresson and other photographic processes.
MAN RAY
Danzas horizontales, 1934
copy of original in Georges Pompidou Center, Paris
ARCHIVO SERRANO
Academía de baíle del Maestro Otero, Sevilla, ca. 1905
Copy of original, Fototeca Municipal de Sevilla
In the end, though, flamenco is about attitude.
penas tengo yo y las que siento
son las de mi mare que las mis no.
Heart wrenching strains of a cante jondo grip my heart and stop me mid-stride.
Overhead the sound bubble showers the aching music over me, drawing me into Prohibido El Cante. Flamenco Y Fotografía, an exhibit at the Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo.
Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo is a converted monastery, repurposed as a regional arts center. Its walls and spaces echo its cloistered past,
and oddly contain and soften the sounds and images of flamenco captured in the exhibit.
Part of PhotoEspaña, a year-long celebration of photography, the 200 photographs of Prohibido El Cante span an intriguing aesthetic of dance, music, artistic vision and technique. Visually drawn to flamenco, artists such as Robert Capa, Man Ray, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Ortiz Echagüe, Isabel Muñoz, Paco Sánchez and 64 others sought to elicit the passion, the movement through gelatin silver, photogravure, carbon fresson and other photographic processes.
MAN RAY
Danzas horizontales, 1934
copy of original in Georges Pompidou Center, Paris
ARCHIVO SERRANO
Academía de baíle del Maestro Otero, Sevilla, ca. 1905
Copy of original, Fototeca Municipal de Sevilla
In the end, though, flamenco is about attitude.
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