Follies From the Underbelly

:::THE NOVEL END TO A SPECTACULAR JOURNEY:::

2007-08-14T22:02:00.000-07:00

If perhaps you are just now joining us here at the Follies, let me welcome you and steer you in the proper direction.
Jenny and Alyssa went on a little plane and some little boats and little trains and such to see some artful ideas and make some pretty pictures. Below, in REVERSE chronological order, is evidence of said trip to Italy, France and Spain this summer. Feel free to make comments by clicking on the "comments" at the end of any posting and vicariously experience a little Euro-action with the ladies. xoxo

Sunrise over the Camargue in Southern France!

With a wee bit of travel delirium aboard the bus from Gatwick to Heathrow. Flying out of London was slightly painful, as we were oblivious to their new anti-terrorist "one bag" policy. Obviously, we were belonging to the evil sect of wrongdoing two-baggers! Actually we eacch had about 5 carry ons with all the camera gear and flea market fragiles, which had to be compacted into a towering "one bag." If only I had a photo of that Sanford and Son style madness, whoo! Sadly, they were no better in Marseilles and confiscated Jenny's turn of the century balance (scale) as it was...too old? heavy? dangerous?? weird? The surly and nasty security man promptly threw it in the trash after we walked away from a heated debate and barely got our flight!

Le HOTEL DOLPHIN

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We were graced with an entirely pink room. Wow. Who needs the elephants?

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An homage to Felix Gonzales-Torres by the seaside.

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Figure It out: FIGUERES : out it figureS.

2007-08-14T21:56:00.000-07:00

On the advisories of like-minded peoples, we detoured through this little dry and dusty townette just to see the Salvador Dali Museum. Set in the locale of his birth and death, I believe, the egg-lined castlesque walls outside and snaking line of panting tourists belied the ho hum dredge inside, to be frank. We had both heard much about this museum and naturally added it to the list without the most remote consideration for our indifference towards the man's work... I respect him thoroughly, don't get me wrong. And I dearly embrace his persona and life. In fact, as we sauntered through rooms of sketches and second rate pieces (the most famed paintings are not here, but in museums and private collections), we yearned simply for photographs and personal effects and videos of the self -proclaimed King of Surrealism. However, the Mae West room of her face was striking and the whole enterprise puts this little village forever on the map. Done and done.

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Tryst in the Brambles, Anyone?

2007-08-14T21:50:00.000-07:00

The biggest thrill/shock of the week: As we took a back side road from Girona to Figueres, we suddenly noticed some young ladies sitting in folding chairs on the shoulders. "Hookers!" I joked to Jenny...Uh, wait, they really DO look like hookers? As we whizzed by several more and noted that they had full portable set ups including: coolers, saucy outfits, umbrellas attached to the chairs and an endless supply of Come Hither glances at the ready. We turned the car around in stunning amazement and managed to grab a couple of snaps, to which we got a couple of frontal flashes, face covers and The Bird!! Suspicions confirmed! Country Lane Prostitution is alive and well in Southeast Spain, don't you believe anything diff'rnt, now.

Fantasmagoria

2007-08-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

An unexpected and glorious bonus surprise. Upon leaving our ultimate seaworthy pilgrimage from Formentera, we travelled through Barcelona and were snapped back to our senses by some sweet local station that graced our ears with "Supernaut" by Black Sabbath. Ahhhh, metal has never felt so damn healing.... In any case, we ambled into Girona to check it out. Rumored to have once been a hotspot for boho wingnuts and les artistes and whatnot, it was in fact a GORGEOUS Roman mecca for collegiates and upscalers with endless darliing cafes and cobbling streets and bridges and trees.Trees! Imagine!..Uh, well, it's someplace to revisit with more room. Sadly, we were almost out of gas and racing around near dark to find a pillow to rest our greazy selves for the night. Lo and behold, we stumbled across yet another outdoor cinema event with a real honest-to-goodness 35mm projector (on wheels?!) showing "Paths of Glory" with a extra-steely Kirk Douglas gazing at our gaping faces across a hollow plaza in the dark. This was thanks to the unforgettable Museu del Cinema, a private collection representing the history of the moving images. Three gorgeous, pristine and interactive floors of steroscopes, magic lanterns, fantasmagorias, optical toys....Oh, I could rant on and on. A Must! Go now! Git!

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suddenly, en route back to the mainland, we find our heroines HE*RE

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Jellyfish Sadists! Ahhhhh!

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ii La Guapa Picante Y La Picantita Picante !!

2007-08-14T21:14:00.000-07:00

Our new aliases above were partially gleaned from an amalgamation of catcalls mixed with observations of local couple behavior in delicate tourist mode. The man would pose against a scenic backdrop, whilst the girlfriend would crouch down from all sorts of most-flattering angles, photographing him with a point-and-shoot cheapee and exclaiming, "Ooooh, Guaaapo!" (oh, handsome!) Sometimes the girl would get a quick chance to pose at the end for one, if she was lucky and as Guapo, one might assume. Here, Guapa Picante and I try to imitate the local motion with flair and grace, naturallly.

NO JOKIN' MATTER! After a few dizzying mojitos on some cliff-shack of a bar overlooking the sea, I got what I thought was #13,487 in a long line of mosquito bites. Instead, when we returned to the hotel room, it swelled up like a bad balloon and got wicked burning hot. Yick. I surmised a probable spider bite until raving delirium set in and I knew nothing but how to stutter and agonize! The red "area" spread all over my leg and I burst into a rabid fever and my face grew tight and sweaty like a mask? Total. Spider. Poison. Jenny was on the verge of taking me to El Hospital, but the fever and bite subsided after a mere two hours of tense uncertainty and paranoia. 'Ware the vicious underbar table spiders on the Isle of Formentera, Lassie! Woooooh, spooky.

WeeBeasties

2007-08-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

The critter du jour on the island were by far the lizards. Turkish Geckos, we think, were rampant and agressively friendly across the board here. Our favorites were at our hotel, the top-notch Cala Soana, who incidentally went MAD for ice cream!? I dropped a bit of my Dove bar with dark cacao on the sands and they bolted up and battled for it!! Only occasionally looking up at us with chocolate smeared little dry lips, like "WHAT." We were delighted and mulled over laying down a sugar feast, but the thought of tiny lizard heart failure set us straight. Instead we gave them old cheese and videotaped the demise of the mound....Okay, okay...Did I mention it was fricking HOT there? Brain-meltingly hot?

The cloven ones, creepy and cuddly and slightly demonic as goats go, weighed on the sadder side, with their front and back legs tied together to prevent wall-jumpin' or boltin' or gettin' busy or basically, walkin' very much at'll. We nipped our rope-clipping urges, albeit barely. Home on fig and almond farms with old, dry, perfect walls snaking up the parched vistas and old, dry, perfect elderly crones toiling away as tourists zipped past on wobbly mopeds, as if on another dimensional plane altogether.

2007-08-14T21:09:00.000-07:00

The Respite and Reflection starring the pristine and remote Isle of FORMENTERA

2007-08-14T21:07:00.000-07:00

Crispy and overloaded by stimulation, we concluded that the best wrap up for our journey of wanderings would be someplace without culture. Jenny and I have a tendency to be busy little brains and chatters, so relaxation must sometimes be undertook like a job. Embracing just a tad more debt, we scoured the islands we could putt putt over to- namely Mallorca, Menorca, Ibiza or Formentera. Ibiza forged dated and wonderous images of Bardot and Jagger circa 1967 in bleached villas and lazy sex-laden styles. It turns out that a high percentage of the island is only on pleasure drugs and dancing to incredibly horrific techno music until dawn now. Damn. We managed to eke out the last available room on the popular Formentera and practically the last ferry spots. Once arrived, we succumbed quickly to the ample warm embrace of its simplicity. Seriously. If you had put your ear to one of ours and listened, the sound in our skulls was akin to a conch shell, whistling, hollow and at peace. Lighthouses, cacti, farms, tapas and fish shacks, salt ponds, pine trees, white boxy villas, bicycles, cliffs, caves and most of all, BEACH. The whole coastline is dotted with free beaches facing the Mediterranean and ranging from rage filled grassy whirlpools to clear bath tempered sandy calm bays with million dollar yachts at anchor for days in the outer waters. Unbelievable? Stunning? Lucky.

2007-08-14T21:05:00.000-07:00

Truckers Take Ferries Too!

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HUH.
(Double click on pic for closer inspection)

The really very super uber special part of our trans-Med cruise was Ferry Number 2. After a dawn port docking in Ibiza (pronounced Ee-BEE-tha), and a cranky panic about coordinating our weird routes and timings, we waited a second-dripping-by 3 plus hours only to squeeze onto an open-air trucker ferry that rarely saw pedestrian or civilian traffic. On board a moaning mother of a barge with: A large amount of Garbage, a big ole Tree, an entire House (see photo) and a bunch of smarmy truckers. Refreshing and nauseating at the same time, we just set our eyes on the prize on the horizon and forged ahead like good sailors do.

Ferry Number One = Afternoon Delight

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Skeptics on the magic of the cosmos

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Jenny and Miss A continue to make special friends along the trip!

These grumps were not enjoying the show! Dour yuppies ARE a worldwide phenomenon, who knew?

Ferry not as in Brian: TOWARDS FORMENTERA!

2007-08-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Hopalong and Lil' Pea took the Citreon and ventured South into regions unknown via Ferry! Procuring a cabin with woolly anchor blankets and amid bronzed Ibiza party-goer stokers, we watched the coast of Spain recede and swaggered with the sway of the rhythm of the Mediterranean.

"Showing Biscuit"

From ATLANTIS to CHARLES MANSON to DALI to VASCO DE GAMA to PROSTITUES to CLINTON to THE INVISIBLE MAN!

2007-08-14T19:53:00.000-07:00

Ok, laugh if you must, but Barcelona's Museo de Cera was THE best wax museum (next to of course, Baltimore's spectacular Blacks In Wax Museum) that I've ever seen! Down in tourist central and fairly empty except for the odd and overtly friendly staff and housed in a dark creepy old building, one was led through endless corridors of strangely arranged sections of history! Clandestine photos and gap mouthed amazement powered us through. THE highlight? Luke Skywalker looking like a drag queen? Nice wig, baby!

2007-08-14T19:51:00.000-07:00

A Gaudi Farewell

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The last day to squeeze in more Catalan delights...In an attempt to go Gaudi, we went to the pricey and popular Casa Battlo. The aural guides were given with admission and, in combination with the architect's whimsical designs, the effect was oh so sci fi!

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Treattime

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OK, so we decided at this point that we needed a little treat. What's a little more debt incurred for an unforgettable, gorgeous trip? We high tailed it away from Hostal Girona, which, although nice, smelled a little "retirement," you could say. We fell gracefully into a small bit of hotel heaven at the petite and lovely Hostal Goya!!!! A MUST for passing through Barcelona with soft sheets, airy windows, WIFI, friendly advice, antique tiled halls and mysterious delicious subtle scents everywhere.

These wooden carved whistles are played best when one is prone and tipsy in bed with one's shoes on, naturally!

Jenny has reason to look charmingly perturbed. Giving into our yen for some raw fish, we forced ourselves upon this popular, dingy little sushi joint in the Barri Gothic. The fish was often cooked and pricey as all get out AND they were a little put out when we requested sake! The nail in their review coffin is that we continuously saw all sorts of delights pass by that were "unavailable" to us lowly peons but saved for special friends of the chef. The nerve!

Still mo' MACBA

2007-08-06T21:28:00.000-07:00

The other standout and unknown to me was a video of a film transfer of James Lee Byers' THe World Question Center from 1969 (?), where a filmmaker documented a performance of this artist cum cult figure with robed encircling entourage as they called up various celebrities, intellects and dignitaries asking them for a question "That they deemed important to their own personal evolution" with varying and mesmerizing results! Ah, the wisdom of the internet filling in the blanks! See below...

"The World Question Center is film by Jef Cornelis that documents a live performance made by the late American artist James Lee Byars (1932-1997), known as the 'magician of silence' for his Zen Buddhist-inspired installations and performances that sought to harness the transitory, ephemeral elements of life. Shot in a Brussels television studio, the film involves Byars, surrounded by a group of men and women dressed in long, white gowns, asking 100 famous people - either present in the studio or by telephone - to pose the most important question about life."

Ulrike Ottinger?!

2007-08-06T21:24:00.000-07:00

The big surprise of the show was a feature 35mm film by a German filmmaker that reminded us of Jodorowsky meets John waters meets Todd Browning with heretical scenes mocking the Third Reich and love affairs with siamese twins. Stunning.

2007-08-06T21:19:00.000-07:00

Ulrike, we hardly knew ye

2007-08-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

MACBA Rules OK

2007-08-06T21:10:00.000-07:00

On a last day trip out, we delved head first once again into an art overload. Ambling through the seedy and super charismatic and charming Raval neighborhood, we stopped by this modern art museum, akin to PS 1 for those NYers reading. We happened to catch one of the best shows either of us had seen in eons, entitled "A Theatre without A Stage," that encompassed theatrical art, mostly photography, sculptural and video from the 20's until the present, heavy on the 60's and 70's. Many favorites AND unknowns in the mix, with a few of the beloved even (see Vito A, Jeff W speaking about Dan G, and Bruce N below!) What was expected to be a breeze through enveloped the entire afternoon. A wonder and genuine motherlode of inspiration for years to come...

* PS. Not for the faint of heart*

2007-08-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

Vegetarians beware. Backslid former vegetarians (hi) beware. There was indeed a plethora of brains, heads and snouts at said market. As grossed out as I was, I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The car accident of market foods!

La Boqueria

2007-08-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

The main and ancient market off La Ramblas, it holds every ingredient you could ever crave. seafood, meats, eggy weggs, fruit, candied fruit, shakes, snakes, chickens, goat heads...

PEPPERS ARE THE NEW TELLINES!

2007-08-06T20:52:00.000-07:00

OK, forget the Tellines (see earlier entry down the page). PIMIENTOS DE PADRON had arrived! To be completely honest johnson, J & A had revelled and basked in the stupor of the mighty Spanish pepper in the past. Tia Pol, the only half decent snack shack in West Chelsea, has these babies home grown for them upstate, essentially cornering the market. Lo and behold, these small green peppers pack a tasty and bitter spiced wallop, as they are flash deep fried and then sprinkled lovingly with sea salt. AND, they were everywhere in Barcelona! Lovely, lovely, lovely.
PS. At some point, we would only stop to eat in a restaurant if they indeed possessed The Peppers. A good way to cut to the quick.

Espadrilles and Hedgehogs

2007-08-06T20:38:00.000-07:00

Just walking the neighborhoods proved to be endlessly fascinating. Jenny needed to power up with new bright yellow Espadrilles, a must in any part of Spain, duh. We were impressed by the array of Unisex footwear and sandals that wear sported by babies, ladies and men alike. Why do a LARGE percentage of Spanish men seem to shave their legs? One of many unanswered preguntas from the trip!

The most darling lil' wooden submarine EVER!!! If only it would have fit in me pocket.
On Las Ramblas, the main crowded pedestrian drag, we came across the "pet segment," where, among the requisite lovebirds and turtles, were, to our gap-mouthed glory, a couple of shy hedgehogs and..............chipmunks?

LOS GIGANTES!

2007-08-06T20:28:00.000-07:00

Naturally, I found myself in Seventh Heaven in this ancient mask store in the Barri Gothic. Amazing oversized heads, some, I will admit, verging on blackface?! But all of an artisan quality that was explained looking into the paper mache workshop in the back with an old guy crafting away. They also had plenty of bad rocker wigs and fried eggs, in case you find yourself hard up the next time you're passing through on the party gag circuit.

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Needs No Words. Whoa.

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Go Go Gaudi

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THE visual highlight of the trip was the evolution of Jenny's hair. An obsessive self-trimmer, it morphed constantly according to mood and proximity to scissors. By the start of Barcelona, we had a full on Princess Di look to Die for. Really! H-O-T.

We love to look at the People looking.
Oh how they respond to suggestion and group dynamics.
Puzzling and fascinating.

At the Starting Gate

2007-08-06T19:22:00.000-07:00

Pretty much totally thoroughly and unquestioningly over dealing with any crowds of any sort, we got the first of the Gaudi sights under our belt bright N early the first morning. What was sublime and uncompromised and psychedelic in architecture, especially for the first couple of decades of the century, still reigned in awe and expansive wonder at the top of the small mountain that comprises Park Guell. We came in the morning dew and left just as the parking lots were TEEMING with buses and the droves of thrillseekers! Yipes!

Even Park Guell has drug addled hipsters sleeping on benches! (Note KEITH RICHARDS tee! No shame. No shame. At least be discreet about your mentors, sheesh!)

Weary and Hungry in a new strange Wondrous Land that loves Sebastian Bach and has Tapas

2007-07-24T12:45:00.000-07:00

Barcelona or Bust

2007-07-24T12:43:00.002-07:00

Hot styles en route and the unexplained pyramid at the border of Spain??

Road Delrium Sets In!

2007-07-24T12:43:00.001-07:00

Adieu Le Mer

2007-07-24T12:41:00.000-07:00

It was awfully sweet of the jousters to throw a parade for us as we departed for Spain.

Gettin' busy...

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The Fabulous Miss Maya Hayuk

2007-07-24T12:30:00.000-07:00

Maya took the train into town with her Mom, who lives in Montpellier and we visited her super amazing mural, part of a grafitti exhibition at the museum. The day progressed with grilled sardines and stories of Van Gogh, thanks to her Mom's running monologue over dinner. Entertaining and lovely to see a familiar face from the States. Go Maya!

Hot! jousting! Action!

2007-07-24T12:27:00.000-07:00

JOUST me baby

2007-07-24T12:25:00.000-07:00

Carrying over a hot sport from Venice, this unexpected specatcle on the Canal involved bugles and grown men getting very macho about pushing one another off a ledge in cute sailor outfits with long poles. Hm.

Bravery vanishes

2007-07-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

Now I love seafood platters as much as the next person, but the Violette and the Sea Snail pushed me over the edge!

The Deal with SETE

2007-07-24T12:20:00.000-07:00

The unofficial story of the town: The King (Louis IIX?) wanted a port town for France and had a canal dug, envisioning a Venice of his very own. Founded in 1666 (!), the town blossomed around the new canal and traditions from Italy were set in place (see Boat Jousting entry above). Filled with only French tourists, we found it pleasant and oddly uncomfortable, for no particular reason.

Say it in Sete

2007-07-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

By most sauve and fortuitous recommendation, we ended up staying at Le Grand Hotel du Paris, a former "men's convent" (monastery) that was changed to a hotel at the turn of the century, updated in the 40's and basically, left to fester. Run by the charming Lucy, who won't sell to the many who offer, as it was her grandfather's, we were living in a sequel to The Shining at every turn. Peeling wallpaper, dim hallways with plaid carpeting, dust laden unused restaurant and...well...ghosts. The first night I saw two coming home from eating a late dinner. Either that, or they laced our brochettes! A fitful night of sleep, as Jenny heard me talking to the "residents" there in my sleep! Worth it? Worth it.

Avoiding The Nudes

2007-07-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

After picking some delightful spot on the coast to chill and accidentally discovering that it was Europe's biggest nudist colony, Jenny and I high-tailed it towards Sete, where our pal Maya Hayuk had finished a mural at the local modern art museum. En route, she befriended a busy codger in the sea who turned out to be digging (yep, you guessed it) TELLINES! I got busy pretending to be Edward Weston for 3 seconds.

En route from Clam to Sand

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I couldn't get over that I felt like I was driving real real fast.
The walled town of Aigues Mortes was restored and revered with such perfection that it kind of looked like a mall?

What we felt leaving the Camargue

2007-07-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

Le Cirque le Freak c'est Chic

2007-07-24T12:00:00.000-07:00

This circus was of the olde time gypsy fleabag variety and continued to cross our paths for days afterwards. The carnies were suspicious, but decent and bored enough to let us come in and snoop around for a spell. I had to keep a close eye on Jenny, who had threatened Nayland that she might run off and join the circus while we were away. Lucky for us, this particular tawdry bunch was no temptation, though she developed a crush on the llama with the underbite and hairlip. Go figure.

2007-07-24T11:58:00.002-07:00

A Fellini Moment in Saltlandia

2007-07-24T11:58:00.001-07:00

Pass the Salt

2007-07-24T11:55:00.001-07:00

The mountains of salt, harvested by tractor were a surreal arctic landscape...

The New Chateau!

2007-07-24T11:51:00.000-07:00

You are all Invited. Just a little vacay shack...

We DO go to church, when it's dark inside

2007-07-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

TELLINES = CLAM CRACK

2007-07-24T11:44:00.000-07:00

We have to dedicate a separate entry for the Clams. Found at a food stand by accident, these little fuckers are hands down the MOST addictive and eyes-rolling-back-into-the-head-in-ecstasy food that we experienced on the voyage. Tiny bivalves dug out of the sand and sauteed in the shell with a super garlicky aioli sauce, we ingested our first taste of clam madness standing on the street....Suffice to say, we returned to Ste. Marie de la Mer TWICE, driving completely out of our way, to get us some CLAM action.

Ooh, l'amour de Camargue! Oui! ***

2007-07-24T11:33:00.000-07:00

Fed up with the Shmoozefest and itching to hit the road again, we took the lil' Citroen to explore the Camargue, a national park region south of the village on the Mediterranean. It is said that our American West cowboys took everything from the farmers of this region, a swampy marshland known for it's bullfighting, flamingos, salt flats and wild white horses. The horses are brown as foals and lighten with maturity, only to create endless vistas of a dreamy strange outpost of natural beauty. The focal center is Ste. Marie de la Mer, a fishing beach town with an ancient church in the center, a testament to local mythic lore!

ERIK KESSELS, our hands down fave of the festa

2007-07-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

Witnessing the work of Erik Kessels and having been lucky enough to happen upon the exhibition while he was
giving a guided talk about it, was the high point of visual stimulation of the Recontres D'Arles. Working entirely with found footage, this Dutch artist has editing skills that humor and challenge the viewer to consider what we think to discard and where our images do/will end up after our demise or in our lifecycles. Witty, articulate and unapologetic, Jenny and I give it a four thumbs up. Yup.

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ERIK KESSELS

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2007-07-24T11:13:00.000-07:00

A diptych from Pablo Bartholomew, an Indian photojournalistic who showed his compelling 70's work...

Jenny got nostalgic for her teenage years in France by drinking these mint slushees at least nine times a day! The best pizza we had was from the "pizza van" that we initially scoffed at. Brick oven style, the fine folks here churned 'em out and cut the pies into slices with scissors!! A new way to handle Hot Cheese.

Continued wonderment in ARLES

2007-07-12T09:38:00.000-07:00

The James Crump documentary on Sam Wagstaff, collector extraordinaire, art career enabler and lover of Robert Mappelthorpe, was compelling, especially to view in the tiers of a Roman Amphitheatre on a breezy summer night! We also happened upon one of the famed amazing flea markets of rural France with oddities and booty to covet and drool over. A few gems were acquired, as naturally we needed proppage for staging photographs. (Number One junk shopping justification.)

How much is that doggie......?

2007-07-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

I came dangerously close to adopting this little guy and stowing him in my carry on....

2007-07-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

The Wau Brothers, whose work mostly represented their performances, such as the "Hug Day" they did at Arles, where strangers are paid to hug each other for a solid 20 minutes. Funny and poignant pieces....

2007-07-12T09:31:00.001-07:00

From the India Pavillion at Arles...

Marilyn Minter, who we love and saw constantly wandering the streets with her entourage!

2007-07-12T09:30:00.000-07:00

TIPPING OUR HAT TO LE FRENCH...

2007-07-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

After a GRUELLING and endless series of trains in the night from Bologna, three to be exact, with one nearly missed, save for our OJ-style running through the station and another missed entirely, we arrive in Marseilles. We slept in a couchette cabin with some grumpy hippies on pull out beds that felt like coffins near the ceiling of the train! We awoke and opened the curtains to stunning gorgeous views of the Riviera and the Cote d'Azur, blinking in shock. Once in Marseilles, we rented a little Citreon C3, a lavender one! The French are SO stylish. We listened to Pop radio, where they played easy listening and hits from the 80's and entered the Roman and pictureque town of Arles for the Recontre d'Arles, a week long photography festival to continue our art madness...

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Countrified

2007-07-09T14:30:00.000-07:00

We told Signore Hank that we, being such city-folk and all, really craved some endless wanderlust in some non-urban spaces and he graciously toured us in his fine lady's Fiat through hills and abbeys and dry heat and chats. We took in a Student Revolution memorial, an abandoned children's hospital from the 20's that was being sadly renovated (Hank masterfully gained access by claiming to be the owners!) where we saw a black Scorpion and Jen found a viper shedding! We also did some staged large format work in a field of sunflowers, crashed a wedding at an abbey and found a natural spring and bought roadside cherries. Ahhh.

Cinematic Paradise?

2007-07-09T14:25:00.002-07:00

We happened upon a Cinema Paradiso style giantess film screen set up in the town square amid 12th century cathedrals and the hundreds of seats were filled with all walks of life of local Bolognese flavor, seated and patiently awaiting "For A Few Dollars More!"....with only Clint Eastwood dubbed into Italian, naturally. As the night breezes blew and we sipped Prosecco from a paper bag, we sat in the darkness and revelled. As the language barrier was formidable, we were guided solely by Ennio Morricone through the visuals. Heaven.

Bologna ITALY and "The Hank"

2007-07-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

Breezy trains and changing pace takes us South into the dry medieval wonderland that is Bologna. A friend from years and years ago, Enrico Giovannini, otherwise known and named by the Grove street San Francisco boys as "Hank," was our gracious host with his soon-to-be-in-motherhood sweet girlfriend Angela (sorry, H to let the cat out of the bag...). A few days to ingest it all, we steered clear of art and toured the city the first day. An expert on the region's countercultural revolutionary history, especially from the last 30 years, H. is a nonstop plethora of fascination!

#1 Reason to Hightail It out of Venice!

2007-07-09T14:10:00.001-07:00

In the beyond...

2007-07-09T14:03:00.000-07:00

The last day was a bus-boat to Lido, to try and locate BEACH. An island off the island of Venice, it looks like Art Deco Miami but in utter isolation, a self-contained world that we lost outselves in, literally and found old hotels with photos of Bridgette Bardot and learned that this is where they filmed Death in Venice....

After braving the sulfuric dregs of our ground floor dampish flat (with amazing 5 bolt door locks, all operated with an immense skeleton key), shopping for fish with the geriatrics in the wee hours, imbibing and wandering endlessly, fighting off the tourists and staying silent amid the braggacio of the American ones, for fear of associative energies, ingesting visuals of all varieties and hearing bells ringing us beyond,

The Barney-Beuys Show at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection

2007-07-07T03:52:00.000-07:00

Venice's magic did some strange head-shrinking to us!

Impressive and enchanting, this infamously persnickety heiress held court at a former unfinished palace right on the Grand Canal. The plebian public can now enjoy the fruits of her wealth and we were oh so lucky to view the Beuys-Barney show there. You can really see Beuys' HUGE influence on Barney's work. We thought that maybe they should marry and make art babies. Note the illegal shot of Miss Jenny watching Matthew's Yale Thesis video that she had always wanted to see! It was worth it to get yelled at for the photo by some tense intern AND to see Barney's fancy props all up close and personal.

2007-07-07T03:43:00.000-07:00

Art Marathon Continues on

2007-07-07T03:36:00.000-07:00

2007-07-07T03:31:00.000-07:00

Ah, Biennale!! <3>

2007-07-07T02:51:00.000-07:00

The Best Part of the Sophie Calle was the bird eating the script of her "letter." Disappointing! (sorry lauren!)

Women dishing it on the streets with SWOON art, she is everywhere. Awesome.

When you see marionettes lip-synching the Beatles, you know you are in the depths of tourist hell! Wow.

Biennale BEST OF SHOW

2007-07-06T03:17:00.000-07:00

Jen and I learning to fly as per Felix Gonzales-Torres in said Pavillion! We made fun of everyone walking around with their free posters until we realized they were from FGT and there we were dragging around our booty, the full effect of the "infectious" intentions of his posthumous pieces.

Dartboards en masse. There were kids gong crazy in this pavillion, zig-zagging amongst flying sharp implements?!

The Russian collective AES+F has blown our dual mind with this apocolyptic computer-generated stop-motion style vision of a purgatorial melange of a world. Not usually my thing, but Jen and I were thoroughly impressed and dumbstruck. I just read 'Oryx and Crake' by Margaret Atwood which, in combination with this piece, have left me with a melancholy, sci-fi and sensitive frame of reference for seeing through! That and Limoncetta have promoted many a rousing conversation over Gin Rummy and sunsets over the canals.

The skeletal frame of Jerry (as in Tom and Jerry) in full pounce mode, from HyungKoo Lee at the Korean Pavillion.

BIENNALE part one at long long long last xoxo

2007-07-01T13:14:00.000-07:00

CIAO CIAO le strangers amongst them

2007-07-01T13:10:00.001-07:00

Venetian Biennale Slow Burn Blast of Deliciousness

2007-07-01T09:49:00.000-07:00

Un piu stanchi!...
After many delays, a broken plane, some cocktails to replace a night of sleep, we traversed the carless
ancient kingdom that is VENICE. Fighting off tourists like a HItchcockian panic of sea level beautific dreamy
Disney everything. We are overwhelmed and we like it!

Yes, that is a HOT DOG PIZZA, ordered by accident but not to be forgotten!