Monday, October 7, 2024

A Room With a View

 



The variety of the winding Tuscan coastline along the Ligurian sea ranges from the sandy beaches of the northern area known as Versilia through pebbly and rocky beaches at Marina di Pisa, and actual rock cliffs at Livorno and Castiglioncello, to the bright white soft sandy beaches at Rossignano Solvay, to long dark sandy beaches from San Vincenzo to Grossetto, and below Piombino and the Island of Elba, where it changes to the Tirrenian sea, past the peninsula of Orbetello, Porto Ercole and the archipelago Toscano.


A few hour’s train ride from home, past Livorno where the view suddenly opens to vast vistas of rugged coast and sea, a few stops later is the small seaside town of San Vincenzo, a long sandy beach my objective. A pleasant, well kept town, the architecture of which ranges from early 20th century Liberty style to contemporary, painted predominantly in warm hues of yellows and orange, and white. A well maintained main street with a dedicated bike lane, shops, restaurants, cafes, and gelaterie, past a surprising heart warming dark red bougainvillea as I hadn’t seen in years, brought me to the hotel, which was modern, colorful and clean, with a tropical feel, surrounded by the sounds and scent of the sea. 


The room had a small balcony and an oblique view of the sea. I checked in at mid-afternoon on a warm day and immediately went for a long walk barefoot on the sandy shoreline with the waves washing over my feet, and the delightful sea and breeze muffled sounds of happy children, conversation, and seagulls. 


My first objective wonderfully gratified, I stopped at the bar, on the terrace in front of the hotel with its unobstructed view, for a glass of classic crisp Tuscan Vermentino and stuzzichini of squares of focaccia with thin slices of prosciuto crudo or cheese, and olives and stared at the horizon and imagined, were the earth flat, I would be looking at the New England coastline of my childhood.


After that sufficient light supper, I walked into town to a gelateria signed artisanal for two rich, but not too sweet, generous scoops of ice cream. 


On the way back to the hotel the sun set in a cloud striated red sky.  The spectacular scene a perfect end to a first getaway evening in mid September after a long hot summer. With an Irish whiskey nightcap from the pleasant receptionist, I returned to the room.


I realized then that the visible hotel sign at night, while neither neon nor flashing, was just too bright, and that convinced me to change rooms in the morning, which I did with uncompromising ease and simplicity. They even offered to transfer my things themselves. 


After a simple breakfast I slipped on my swimsuit and pareu and walked along the shore to an area free of canvas loungers and umbrellas, left the pareu on the sand and went for a long- anticipated swim. The sea was calm and the water temperature like sliding into cool silk. I passed the better part of an hour in the water and spent a few minutes longer on the beach. 


Back in the hotel, showered and refreshed, I then headed to another restaurant for a seafood pasta lunch, with a terrace over the sea where I watched a few boats on the horizon and, nearer to shore, an experienced swimmer smoothly swimming in a perfectly straight line parallel to the shoreline. 


After lunch another long walk on the beach, some reading with just the sound of the sea in the background and eventually a repeat of the light apericena supper followed by a different flavor, but equally delicious, gelato of the night before. 


On my way back to the hotel the sky had clouded over. The weather was about to change. On the street in front of the hotel there was an ambulance, lights flashing. A crowd had gathered at the parapet overlooking the beach and there were medical personnel on the beach below. 


Someone had fallen ill, the receptionist compassionately answered my query. A whiskey nightcap in hand, I went up to the room to read. 


The room itself had been recently renovated, modern, light and clean. Crisp white sheets on the bed and touches of texture in the bedspread and a wall of a muted shade of intense blue lent warmth to what might otherwise have been a stark interior. 


I stepped out onto the balcony to find the onlookers at the sidewall and EMTs still below. They were vigorously performing CPR on a fairly large patient lain on the sand parallel with the sea. A medevac  helicopter arrived stirring up the sand and causing the personnel to cover their heads and faces. Two EMTs were lowered with their medical case. The helicopter hovered just far enough away not to disturb the proceedings, but was audibly notable. Time lapsed. They worked on the unfortunate for quite some time. There was communication. The helicopter returned, the medevac EMTs, with their medical bag between them, embraced, hooked the line on, were hoisted up and, swaying, lifted away. There was nothing to be done. 


The medical personnel gathered their equipment, covered the body with a heavy white sheet, and moved it higher on the beach perpendicular to the shoreline and left, leaving other official personnel to wait for the coroner. In all of this time there seemed to be no one connected to the person, in attendance.


The deceased lay alone, except perhaps in my thoughts, under the darkening sky. The crowd had mostly disbursed. Occasionally an official would go down to the area but no one else did. It took a long time but the coroner arrived and the body was removed..


The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Lightening struck at sea, thunder rolled continuously and the waves swelled, crashing angrily.


The bed was firm and warm, the white sheets fragrant, and I spent a disturbed night, but woke to fresh air, a strong breeze and still choppy sea. 


As I rode home I wondered if it had been someone of renown, someone in the Arts, Letters or Music, for whom the world would be informed of a death in San Vincenzo, or a solitary traveler in a room with a view, having enjoyed intensely a few days at the seaside, like myself.










Thursday, April 11, 2024

Tell Me a Story


Every picture tells a story, a picture is worth a thousand words, show, don’t tell, how ever you put it, since there have been walls, from time immemorial, people have painted on them.
The years long project ATTITUDE, conceived and realized by Gian Guido Grassi, and funded by generous grants from the Region of Tuscany, has grown from its inception in the exhibition “ATTITUDE / Graffiti Writing, Street Art, Neo Muralism” at Palazzo Blu in 2021 in Pisa, through the Mid-Serchio River Valley, and The Garfagnana, and now to the Galleria Comunale di Barga where 13 of the over 50 artists of stART ATTITUDE are represented in an exhibition, entitled Storytelling, of screen prints commissioned in conjunction with its statement of purpose, promotion of Street Art, Graffiti Writing and Neo Muralism.
There is also now a fascinating tour on an itinerary through six sites in various villages of the Garfagnana where four internationally recognized Urban Artists, and several university students, explore themes of local history, legends and lore in mural form.
In the northernmost village on the murals itinerary at VILLA COLLEMANDINA, an expansive image of the mountain ranges adorns the side of the town hall in homage to the Garfagnana, painted by students of the Accademia di belle arte di Firenze; the next stop in CASTIGLIONE, represents flora and fauna of the wilds of the Garfagnana by HITNES; on the front of the elementary school in PIEVE FOSCIANA, ZED1 has elaborated on the theme of the first tricolor flag made and flown in Italy in 1831; in the comune of Fosciandora, at LUPINAIA, BASTARDILLA suggests the kiss of the chestnuts nesting in their spiny hull; in CESERANA, ZED1 delights with its legend of saints, bees, and bare bottoms; at Riana, a toast to the wine festival by HITNES; and last, but by no means least, in GALLICANO, ERICAILCANE thrills us with a frog and adorable rodents on a wild ride in walnut shells, filled and spilling over with iconic local items, on the raging torrent.
With the available regional funding for Street Art/Urban Art/Art in Public places, The Mayor of Barga, Caterina Campani, had a different, but equally illustrious, take on the Street Art theme, entitled le Porte di Barga, with permanent posters mounted in iron, or wooden, standing frames by our own internationally known, local Art legends: the torrente Corsonna water mill image near Catagnana by KEANE; Architectural references by FABRIZIO DA PRATO on the mountain road to Tiglio; the Poet Pascoli image by SANDRA RIGALI at Castelvecchio Pascoli; in the center of Fornaci di Barga, TONY PHILLIPS, on the main road from the valley to Barga, NICK KRACZYNA; and at Ponte all’Ania, GIULIA NOEYES.

These widely diffused initiatives, in part conceived and realized by Gian Guido Grassi, the local participation by Mayor Caterina Campani, and cooperation by multiple other local municipal governments, with the generous contributions of the Region of Tuscany, tell the story in a feast for the eyes and food for thought on the walls, outside and in, in the wide open spectacularly beautiful mountainous northwestern corner of Tuscany. 

Thursday, December 21, 2023

A Moment in Time

This is an angry sky 

or the blush

of an afterglow

that will miss you 

very much 

but wishes you well 

at the return of the sun

the long dark nights

are over

Summer starts today

with the return of the light

mere minutes

at a time 

Thursday, October 26, 2023

On Insomnia

Today there are a multitude of recommendations for combatting insomnia.

Counting sheep was traditionally a suggested method for calming the mind to get to sleep. More recently it has been suggested to count something you know, something you’re familiar with in everyday life. 


I’m a clothing designer so that would be straight pins. So, I count them as if I were sorting them on the sewing table, one by one. I reach a certain point and then I find myself beginning to imagine sticking them into certain people I have known. 

Sweet solace as all hope for sleep is abandoned. 

Thursday, February 2, 2023

February


February can be

Brutal

Its only 

Attribute

Is length

Sunday, May 8, 2022

A Mother's Descent A father's Journal 1958

partially gone 


Bad fight 


Slightly Tight


BF


Very T.  


Appeared tight. BF. 


I made supper


Slightly T.  


I make supper


Slightly T.  


sleepy, tongue thick, more tense. no goodnight.  


Coakey bit K.


Called everything but smart. Very T.


  Slightly T.  One spat, short


Slightly T. One spat in bed.


slightly T.  


        She treats kids summarily. Sends to bed early. Falls asleep in chair after supper.


    Discontinued in hopes of improvement


learning to recognize more quickly her condition of inebriation. 


  taken to hiding bottles, usually pints of blend or vodka, in drawers full of clothes, on obscure shelves.  


        J. will tell me when she has been drinking - as if I had to be told!


sloppy, hair messy, poor posture, off balance, weaving, eyes glazed - stupid looking. 


                 Easily offended, quick to temper, lazy, doesn’t care what happens to the kids. 


she falls asleep without making supper,  the task falls to me. 


  This of course exasperates me no end.


  she is extremely short with children, often sending them to bed as much as three hours ahead of schedule.


clouted me across the back of the head -from behind - with a shoe


sloppiness, unsteadiness, sulky, thick tongue, glazed eyes. 


seated in front of LR chair drunkenly playing with children 


                  (she seldom plays with them except when drunk)


I told her she was drunk and should stay home. 


This clinched her decision to go. 


She came up from behind and kicked me sharply, I stood up, saw she had a knife in her hand.


I was a bit afraid she might try to use it


she left home last night at 9:40 pm, to pick up babysitter and got home at 10:10 with no baby sitter


she didn’t get the BMR because she was late and overworked (and hung over?)


      she sounded slightly tight. 


The fifth of whiskey which had been almost half full was gone.


displayed the usual characteristics of drinking: 


    emotional, extremely dramatic in speech and gestures, irresponsible attitude   


I left at 6:40, J. dressing, K. beginning supper. 


did not prepare supper for herself.


   definitely under the influence. 


Hair all awry, eyes red and puffy, generally sloppy. 


    Physical coordination clumsy, tongue thick. 


At 6:30 just feeding the baby. 


No beds made today. 


    Closed bedroom door leaving my bedclothes out implying she wanted me to use den. 


    I will try sleeping in bedroom. 


    No harsh words tonight




© Kerry Bell 2022



 

Friday, May 6, 2022

Mother's Day

The Blood

On the pillow

The Ink

On the wall