Easter with the grandparents, 2011
My parents
came to see us during the Easter holidays
Back from my
holidays in London I was soon caught up in my usual routine of cleaning and
tidying, the more so because my parents were arriving from Rome the following
day.
During their
stay the weather was surprisingly lovely for several days, which gave us the
opportunity of going out, working in the garden...and having exciting spring
cleaning sessions.
We drove to Keswick, walking round the centre
and over to the lake, Derwentwater. It
doesn’t seem much but for my old parents it was a long walk. They were impressed by the town and Hope Park,
neat, tidy and beautiful, and took pictures everywhere.
We went
several times to the centre of Lancaster for shopping with my children, or
sometimes only my mother and I. She was
happy to escape with me, free from her usual routine, especially now that my
father is getting more and more tired and doesn’t go out much.
I also cleared
and weeded the garden, adding new plants: a rhododendron and some roses, in
place of the ones killed by last winter’s frost. Finally, my mum and I had a massive spring
clean, wiping away so much dust and dirt from surfaces, top shelves, windows,
window sills, doors, lamps and ceiling lights that luckily she was here to help
me or I would never have the courage and energy to do it all by myself.
Our best
time out was when we went to Lancaster Castle for Mozart’s opera Così fan tutte (‘Every woman’s the same’
or ‘They are all like that’), http://www.reginaopera.org/cosi.htm
.
The Shire
Hall in the castle is such an original and enchanting venue for an opera,
especially for an opera buffa, that I
was sure my parents would appreciate it. And they did. They enjoyed it immensely though it was in
English, not in the Italian of the original libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte. The English version added an updated
interpretation of the story. It is made
clear that not only women are inconstant, which is the main theme of the
original plot, but also, reading between the lines, men are deceitful. The English translation states this openly. A better title might, be Così fan tutti, where tutti refers both to men and women, while tutte
refers only to women.
In this
funny, entertaining, farcical comedy pranksters are finally fooled and virtuous
ladies fall easily in love with a sister’s lover; the powerful, rich philosopher
don Alfonso holds the strings of the puppets’ characters and shows their
contradictions and weaknesses, which are his own (and our own) after all. There is no goodness or virtue that can
resist a well-plotted illusion and to cut a long story short we need to accept
life and people as they are and take it easy.
But the ending leaves you with a big question: will their marriages be
successful?
It rained
that night so I did not need to water my new plants.
On Saturday
night I couldn’t miss the Easter vigil Mass at St. Peter’s cathedral, which was
particularly atmospheric, with a multitude of readings (seven plus seven
psalms, the New Testament reading and the Gospel) lit only by the audience’s
candles. The ritual of Rebirth and Resurrection was intense and inspiring. A good way to review what I have done and face
up to the last part of the academic year before the long relaxation of summer
holidays.
Easter holidays 2013
Hibernating at home
The main focus during
the Easter holidays was the weather: harsh, freezing, definitely wintry. Worse
than the average weather we had last winter. Snow, frost in the morning and the
north west wind cutting your face. From time to time a bit of trickling
sunshine; no rain though. My garden was so dry that I would be able to brush
off all the dead leaves in a few minutes (well, half an hour) when the
temperature started to rise.
I was hardly in the
mood for opening windows or spring cleaning. I put it off until the next
holiday, May half-term. Instead I stayed at home most of the time, going out
only if I really had to, e.g. when the fridge was emptying or in similar
emergencies.
Besides, we were stuck
at home because my autistic daughter Valentina doesn’t like going out or
leaving for holidays any more. Her behaviour is becoming so seriously
challenging that she objects to leaving her room or doing anything different
from her usual routines and spinning around. If we force her into something she
doesn’t like she becomes aggressive, and it is difficult to deal with her in
such a mood outside the house.
So we stayed at home.
My husband and I took turns if we had to go out for any reason. My two sons
were at home too, for their school and university holidays. My daughter was
with a friend in Dubai (lucky her!) basking in warm sunny weather. I missed her
so much that I sent her messages on facebook every day. No shopping with her or
chatting about friends, fashion, art, no art galleries or exhibitions to see
together, no baking or cooking new recipes... it was so boring without her that
I wondered what I’d do when she is at university. I suppose I’ll often go and
see her, if she allows me.
I was at home,
hibernating, with the central heating always on during the day, reading (mainly poetry), painting (mainly art
books), redrafting some of my poems and preparing lessons for my Italian
language and literature classes. It was absorbing and engrossing at times.
I finished illustrating
my art book containing favourite poems, ones I consider outstanding chosen from
collections by poets in the north west (Carole Coates, Sarah Hymas, Mike
Barlow, Jane Routh, Kim Moore, etc.), other British poets (W.H. Auden, Philip
Larkin, Andrew Motion, M.S. Roberts, Mario Petrucci, Don Paterson) and famous
poets from other countries (Emily Dickinson, Seamus Heaney, J.L. Borges,
Adrienne Rich, Eugenio Montale, Alda Merini, Arthur Rimbaud, Sharon Olds, Maya
Angelou). The illustrations give my own interpretation, both in the drawing or
painting and in the handwriting. It was such fascinating work, linking my
passion for poetry and my artistic skill. Unfortunately I can publish only part
of it for copyright reasons, but I’ll exhibit it at Silverdale art and craft
trail (I am at St John’s Primary) at the end of June (www.silverdalearttrail.co.uk) together with all the
art books I worked on during the year. I am also working on illustrating some
of my own poems, which I’ll post on this blog shortly.
The good side of being
at home was that I could read plenty of books, mainly poetry. Here they are:
Solstice, 24 hours of poetry (Beautiful Dragon Press, 2012), an anthology
collecting twenty-four poems by poets living in Lancaster and in the north of
England. The idea came to Sarah Hymas and Rebecca Irvine Bilkau when in May
2012 they each wrote a poem at the time of the supermoon. They invited
twenty-two poets to write on one hour of the summer solstice, so there is a
poem for each hour of the day: twenty-four impressive, new and inspiring poems.
Besides Sarah Hymas and Rebecca Irvine Bilkau, there are other well known poets
like Jane Routh, David Tait, Andrew Foster, Elizabeth Burns, Carole Coates,
Polly Atkin and many others. The poems are about the poets’ activities,
feelings and impressions during the different hours of the longest day, moving
from Lancashire landscapes to family and lovers, to Joan Mirò and sundials. The
anthology was launched last March at the Judges Lodgings in Lancaster, a
beautiful 17th century building displaying Robert Gillow’s imposing
furniture and a collection of paintings and toys from the Victorian age to
nowadays.
On the same night was
the launch of Rebecca Bilkau’s poetry collection Weather Notes (Oversteps Books, 2012). Rebecca lives in Germany but
often comes back to Lancaster with her German husband. Her moving between two
countries gives her poems a freshness, a note of surprise as if she sees and
describes places for the first time. The elegant musicality of her lines makes
the act of reading a pleasure, and the stories she tells convey profound
experiences of life and relationships.
On my shelves I found a
book I had wanted to read for a long time: Visibility
by Graham Mort (Seren, 2007). It contains selected poems from five previous
collections with some new ones. I was impressed by the style and complexity of
images and the richness of language which place the reader in the middle of
these deeply felt, unforgettable and often dramatic pieces. It’s impossible not
to get involved, not to breathe and beat the rhythm of his poems.
The last book of poetry
was an anthology: Sculpted, Poetry of the
North West, edited by Lindsey Holland and Angela Topping with an
introduction by David Morley (published by North West Poets in 2013). I was so
happy to find poems from lot of good writers I personally know (we attend the
same readings and workshops or I meet them on facebook), like Keith Lander,
Janet Rogerson, Geraldine Green, Jacob Silkstone, Janine Pinion, Joy Winkler
and Kim Moore. Their poems sounded so familiar I could hear their voices and
intonation while I was reading them. It was like meeting friends.
Two fiction books were
in my ‘must read’ list as well: Cold
Light by Jenn Ashworth (Sceptre, 2011) and Cathedral by Raymond Carver ( Vintage, 2003).
I found Cold Light even better, if possible,
than A Kind of Intimacy (the first
acclaimed novel by Jenn Ashworth). The pace of the plot, the style and building
of characters are flawless, the whole story gripping from the first to the last
page. Also it is set in Preston, just round the corner for me. The theme of
what people want to believe, or find convenient to believe, (a romantic and
tragic love story to celebrate St Valentine’s Day) compared to what really happens
is masterfully developed at different levels, with irony, suspense and a stark
sense of reality.
Cathedral is a collection of short stories first published in America in 1983.
Carver’s style definitely adheres to the well known motto: show don’t tell.
Everything in his stories is only and always shown, guiding the reader in the
understanding of characters, their reasoning,
dreams, frustrations, and to the developing of the story. His prose is
simple, short sentences most of the time, reflecting the way the characters
think and speak. The endings surprised me every time: lingering in mid-air,
open and always puzzling.
What else? On 6th
April I took part in the Open Mic night organized by Beyond Radio (http://www.beyondradio.co.uk/) at the Gregson Centre in Lancaster. It was an
opportunity to read my flash fiction pieces, watch poets and singers perform
and help raise money for the Beyond Radio project. It was a fantastic night, exceptionally
well attended.
We had one day out at
IKEA to buy the new bookshelves we needed: as essential as bread and butter.
When my husband had assembled the unit in a corner of our kitchen (the only
space left in our house), I filled a full section with my poetry books. They
were now easily reachable (instead of being piled on my desk and kitchen
table). And we even had an hour out in the sun (one of the two and a half warm
and sunny days in the two week holiday) cycling along the River Lune. It wasn’t
Dubai but we had fun.
Easter holidays 2014
Last Easter holidays
were definitely the busiest I’ve ever had. Not only were all my children at
home (which was fantastic), I also had three days in Surrey with my daughter
and my husband and I had the good (but tiring) idea to start to redecorate the
house: he is painting the walls, my task is to refresh the wooden parts, doors,
windowsills, etc. Needless to say, I haven’t done the spring cleaning yet (but
I have to do it sooner or later). Not to mention the garden which looks like a
piece of abandoned land after winter storms. I came out of my holidays
exhausted but in a good mood, confident to accomplish all my tasks before
summer holidays, hopefully.
In Surrey we visited
Kingstone upon Thames and Guildford, pretty places with great shopping centres.
It was sunny and lovely warm. I noticed that trees had already new lemon green
leaves giving the landscape a very spring aspect. We went to two exhibitions in
London: Italian Glamour at the
V&A and Jean Paul Gautier from the
sidewalk to the catwalk at the Barbican. Only fashion this time (for the
joy of my daughter) though I had planned to see watercolours exhibitions as
well, but there was not enough time. There was so much to see, talk about, read
and comment at the fashion exhibitions we visited, that when we had finished
all the other museums were closing. London, like all capital cities, has such a
concentration of special events that the time spent there is never enough.
The Italian Glamour exhibition spans from
post WW II till today. I read from a book on sale at the V&A shop (The origins of Italian Fashion, 1900-1945
by Sofia Gnoli) that during the Fascist era, Italian stylists and dressmakers
started to be independent from French fashion, which dominated all over Europe
and America at the time. This happened because of the nationalist
characteristic of Fascism itself, tending to make Italy self-sufficient. As
Bulgari says in a quotation at the beginning of the exhibition, Italian fashion
comes from the ‘tradition of
high-quality material and artisanal craftsmanship’ that in Italy dates back to
the Middle Ages. After WW II the Italian government, with the help of the
Marshall plan, invested in fashion, which became one of the pillars of Italy’s
recovery. Alta Moda (high fashion)
was especially appreciated in America, by Holliwood stars but also in
department stores. This was the time of Roman
Holidays (starring Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn), La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini, and Cleopatra with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor (her necklace
with emeralds and diamonds plus ring and brooch are on display as well).
I liked the quotation
by Anna Piaggi, a fashion editor, who described fashion designers as ‘a secret
society, made up of pioneers, a few inventors and a few poets. They are the new
phenomenon and the new élite’. I’d say that most of the Italian artistic
skills, poetry, cleverness and business are concentrated in fashion today.
The women’s and men’s
clothes on display are absolutely astounding. There are outfits by Fontana
sisters, Fernanda Gattinoni, Maria Grimaldi, Roberto Capucci, and Valentino,
Max Mara, Dolce & Gabbana, Fiorucci,, Trussardi, Armani...all so beautiful,
stylish, I dare say perfect. An incredible jacket by Moschino reproduces the
pattern of the yellow pages with gettoni
(telephone tokens) for buttons; but they are special yellow pages with puns and
intentional misspelling of famous stylists and fashion trademarks, e.g. Charmès
(for Hermès), Fax Sara (for Max Mara), Cocò de Bel (for Coco Chanel), Strada
(for Prada), Vernice (for Versace).
The last room is almost
unreal. The beautiful evening dresses and accessories on display, the video
with models, the light and the music, everything contributes to give the idea
of a glamorous, fairytale world of high artistry.
Jean Paul Gautier’s
exhibition is very different, but not less engrossing. He is considered the enfant terrible of French fashion,
comparable to the avant guarde art
movements of the early 20th century in art. He reflects our
multi-cultural society, mixing traditions, reinventing and transforming myths
and stereotypes. While in the Italian
Glamour exhibition it is very clear if an outfit is for a man or a woman
and all the clothes are ideally wearable everyday and everywhere, with J-P
Gautier there are no boundaries between sexes, or there are no specific sexes,
or, on the contrary, sex is intentionally highlighted. Most of the outfits are
made to provoke, even shock, and are more suitable to wear in a show or in an
artistic performance than in real life. It isn’t a surprise that he worked for
film directors like Greenaway, Almodòvar, Luc Besson, and designed stage
costumes for Lady Gaga, Boy George, Kylie Minogue, Tina Turner and Madonna (the
famous cone bra corset). Very open minded indeed, a bit crazy sometimes, but so
creative. There are some recurrent motifs: Madonnas, sailors’ uniforms (the
famous Breton stripes everybody wears), sexy androgynous creatures, armours for
women or second skin dresses with genital hairs and nipples highlighted with brown
pearls; for men skirts made with ties or dresses with protruding breasts like
African fertility statuettes. Here fashion, more than ever, is a pretext to
make art, show off, put up a performance. Everything is so intriguing, original
and, above all, great fun, but honestly hard to wear in everyday life.
I was happy to come
back home at the end, to prepare large and delicious dinners for my big family
and go back to paint doors and window sills.
No comments:
Post a Comment