Through the Lattice Window

A recent discussion with a friend made me realise that in addition to Gargoyles and Grotesques, there is another thing I have a tendency to take photos of when touring old cities and old buildings. That of a landscape through a window, but with elements of the window incorporated into the shot. Sometimes it's unavoidable as the lattice is so small it's difficult to capture the whole view without getting some of the window into the shot. On other occasions though it adds a reminder of the location of the photo, making it more than just a landscape shot from a higher viewpoint. Instead it adds an element of the building, drawing the inside out, as opposed to the outside in. 

So here are just a few, some with lattice windows, some without the glass at all. 

From the Castel Sant'Angelo towards St Peter's, Rome, Italy

Looking in to the Bath Assembly Rooms, UK

The grounds of Fontainebleu, France

18th Century Embroidery

On my latest trip to Europe I was fortunate enough to find a couple of museums with historical fashions on the floor.

Usually historical fashions are few and far between particularly as for every few months on display they are ideally required to spend a few years in deep storage to counterbalance the impact of the light and heat on the delicate fabrics. As a result, some museums are only open when they have a temporary exhibition on.

Other historical fashion collections are not even given their own museum, but are discretely incorporated into cultural or 'time period' museums with little or no external reference even to the existence of the collection within.

On this trip I had discovered a few small references to these collections which ensured my determination to see them. I was not expecting them to cover the same field. The first exhibition was Fashion Unframed at the Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich, and the second part of the permanent exhibition at Palazzo Mocenigo, Venice.

San Marco and surrounds - Venice

Still being unsatisfied with my impressions of Venice (they just weren't matching up with external images of Venice) I decided that the best way to get from my hotel near the Piazzale Roma to San Marco Square was by the vaparetto, the water bus, and on a route that went straight down the Grand Canal (actually it zigzags from bank to bank, but you get the picture).

Controlled attempt at getting lost - Venice

On the ferry back from Burano I got talking to an old Italian who told me that to appreciate Venice you have to get lost in the streets. While I can understand the sentiment, a) most of the streets I've discovered thus far are not interesting enough to want to get lost in them, and b) I don't like the idea of giving up that level of control.

 

As a result, though I tried to explore the south island I don't think I was all that successful. It may have been that it was still rather early, but it's as likely that I was not wandering along the beaten path and so the streets simply weren't catering for tourists.

Murano and Burano - Venice

Venice is a very small island sinking into the lagoon off the coast of mainland Italy.
Murano is a smaller island in the same lagoon famed for its Glass production. 

Burano is an even smaller island again famed for its Lace.

They are accessible by vaparetto, the water buses that speed you along the canals and out into the open lagoon.

Ca d'Oro & Palazzo Mocenigo - Venice

I arrived in Venice at 10 am having left Barcelona at the slightly unseasonably hour of 7:30 am. Being unable to check in until the afternoon, and not wishing to waste a day, I dumped my luggage and went in search of sights and information.

One of the things I wanted to do during my stay was make a day trip to Murano and Burano and I also wanted to see if there were any museums/things worth seeing that I had not yet discovered in my cursory search of Tripadvisor and Wikipedia. As a result. the information centre was my first stop. It was not as useful as I'd hoped though, which was perhaps a good thing as I'd already discovered enough things to keep my days filled.

Missing Manners

Otherwise known as 'Crude Men Who Need to be Removed from the Gene Pool'.

No I'm not being feminist, or pessimistic, or whatever else you want to call it, other than opinionated and brutally honest. I just get fed up of having to deal first hand with the objectification of women me. And I'm not being over dramatic, or egotistically in hoping that this male attention is directed at me.

I know it is. They make it obvious enough, possibly because they think it a compliment.

Let me describe myself; I'm intelligent, witty, I can hold lengthy conversations that go beyond 'small talk' and actually discuss matters of interest and importance. I am not lacking a sense of humour and can talk absurdities for hours on end with good friends. I have many talents, many skills, and many hobbies, with a healthy streak of creativity.

However, I am tall, attractive, neither overweight nor underweight, with a penchant for wearing 4inch heels and clothes that skim my hour glass figure.  And I have a naturally large set of breasts.

Unfortunately, this second description can all too easily overshadow the former and result in some horrible situations that I shouldn't have to be skilled at dealing with.


Situation 1: It's a Friday night and we're at my Grandfather's wake, at the Leopold Hotel where he had once worked as the accountant. The entire family is there celebrating his life, and mourning his death. We have just come from his burial and a traumatic week before that organising his funeral. I walk up to the bar to get drinks for myself and my mother, and a comment is directed at me:

"You have a great pair of tits." 

As though this is a great statement to pick me up. As though this is a suitable statement to make at any time or in any place, in this day and age.
It's not a fact he's verbalising, for he did not say 'you have a big pair of tits' (fact, but no more acceptable, might I add). He provided his opinion with regards to my body and then verbalised it... in my ear.
Standing at a bar, regardless of what I am wearing, regardless of what I am drinking, or how many drinks I have already had, I should not have to hear such a comment directed at me or any other person in the room. I should not have to not register shock at what I have heard and I should definitely not have had to learn how to ignore such comments.


Situation 2: Mum and I are walking through Naples in the middle of summer. As a result we are dressed for the heat. I was not in a skimpy top and hot pants, just short shorts and a loose-fitting summer top that covered my shoulders and my bust (I am modest, and prepared for crude comments). Walking down the main street back to the train stations, we pass by groups of men who make very suggestive comments towards me or about my appearance. Some are touting for customers for the restaurant at which they waited. Others are just hanging around. When they get no response from their sleazy comments said in Italian, they switch to other languages including English hoping that I might be able to understand some of the filth they are uttering.
Mum is freaked out as she could understand everything they were saying or suggesting about her daughter. I think she is also freaked out because I didn't bat an eyelid for the entire duration of the walk. Nor did I say a word. I had simply experienced enough of it over the years to be able to turn a blind eye to it all. I had enough experience to be about to act as though I had not understood a single word they had uttered and had no idea of the sexist filth they were saying.

Unfortunately it was filth they can get away with saying because there were no recriminations. I (probably like most women) have not the strength to deal with it physically and so simply ignore it completely. As a result, they continue their disgusting behaviour and I become more comfortable with the idea of remaining a Spinster Aunt.

Researching Rome

This cover depicts the Santa Croce in
Gerusalemme Basilica

I've started writing a new novel, one set in Rome in 1880 and so in order to understand the setting I'm consulting the guide books and maps of the time. I want to know what had been discovered, what had been built, how did English tourists travel, where did they stay, where was church... and its proving very interesting.

Rome was a popular destination, away from the cold misery of the English climate, a place where there seem to have been less social restrictions, and where the more intellectually inclined could review their classical education or perfect the art of painting sunny vistas and picturesque ruins.

With the guide books no longer under copyright I've loaded up my kindle and am slowly compiling lists of attractions and relevant quotes regarding them. For while I know what intrigued me on my visit, these places were not necessarily available 130 years ago; they may not have been created as a state-of-the-art museum collection,  or may still be being preserved by the build up of 2000 years of Roman soil.

Thanks to these marvellous books I know that like the Count of Monte Cristo, English tourists preferred to stay in the area around the Piazza di Spagna - the square at the bottom of the Spanish Steps. It was here too that the artists' models would wait for work, lounging upon the sunny steps.

St Peter's (Not St Paul's)

24 August 2012

I should probably explain: having lived in London for two years, I'd come to refer to the big sainty church in the city as St Paul's. After all, in London, that's what the big church was... until we got to Rome. Unfortunately by then habit had set in, and my brain obviously didn't think it a life or death situation that needed rectifying.

Truthfully, St Peter, St Paul: in my eyes they were pretty much one and the same; two early followers of Jesus who set about establishing Christianity and the Catholic church/Doctrine as we know it. And they both ended up with big swanky churches.

Dressed at our most modest (shoulders and knees covered), Mum and I made our way to that church for a leisurely wander with the occasional comment... or two.

For popular attractions where there is a known problem of lengthy queues, we make a point of getting there nice and early so that regardless we can walk straight through. On this particular day there appeared to be little need for our forethought as the square was empty and winding queue lines completely empty.

Passing the very welcoming St Peter. Surprising really given the Catholic church doesn't believe they'll let in any old riffraff, unless he's since become aware of the pagan tourists wandering through his holy house in idle curiosity. 

Michelangelo's Pieta

I was collecting religious folks, particularly the camera-wielding variety, but missed the ultimate Charles Addams shot as none of them wandered into the sunbeam. As I was getting slightly excited at the sight of the delightful dears, I think Mum felt it was for the best. 

Charles Addams, in The New Yorker, 10 August 1940

Though you can't see it (the tourist/pilgrim is standing in the way) St Peter has lost his toes (and soon his foot) due to the good luck that oozes out of it thereby encouraging people to rub it.

All in all, there seems to be a plethora of monuments to important Catholics scattered throughout. In addition to more than enough Popes, each one seemingly vying for a bigger and 'better' monument, there are also a number of monuments to a number of monarchs who either lost of abdicated their thrones as a result of their religious convictions. 

Monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska, wife of the 'Old Pretender' to the English throne.

Monument to Queen Christina of Sweden

Monument to the Royal Stuarts (the Old Pretender and his two sons)

Monument to Pope Innocent XII

His Holiness of the Teacups

His Holiness of the Bees (not related to Napoleon
and his bees).

Monument to Pope Alexander VIII...

... complete with an hourglass-wielding Death.

Monument to Pope John XXIII(?)

Monument to Pope Clement XI

Growing up, my sister and I had our favourite Greek goddesses.
Mine was Artemis, hers was Athena. So for her now, Athena
 (or her illegitimate half sister Roma). And a big pussy cat.

An Altar inlaid with mosaics

A red porphyry sarcophagus of Probus, the 4th century Prefect of Rome, surmounted by the lid
 of the sarcophagus of Hadrian to which an ornament of the Lamb of God has been added.

Tis an elephant! (though it does look to have been photoshopped
 in accordance with the current ideas of feminine beauty)

Me and my love of gargoyles/grotesques. Aren't they beautiful!

It took us a while to notice, but every fresco, every painting within St Peter's is no longer the original, but has been replaced by a perfectly matched and crafted mosaic. The reason for this is that for the purposes of preservation the paintings need a constant temperature and humidity. With so many people coming through the doors of St Peter's this is impossible to attain. However as these are each and every one an integral part of the atmosphere and decoration of the place they have been substituted with meticulously detailed glass mosaics that will survive the ravages of time and tourist.

The view of one of the transepts from the base of the dome

Having satisfied our thirst for the inside we continued to climb upwards, spiralling towards the top of the cupola where there were to be had unparalleled views across Rome and the Vatican gardens.