two things a day

I wrote the post title then went to have breakfast, watching television, my "listening exercise" for today. I was going to write about my practice of doing two things other than painting, however insignificant they might seem, to progress my art career each day.

It seems more important to write about two other things.

Yesterday I went to an agency (a little like Citizens' Advice Bureau) to get assistance to make sure my application to renew my permesso di soggiorno was absolutely correct. I may be out of the country when my current permesso expires.

I was welcomed into a warm office, made comfortable beside the computer to check all my details being entered as they appeared on the screen. I noticed that the moment my name was typed my codice fiscale appeared automatically. Big Brother does watch, very efficiently. The inevitable questions came, amid laughter and banter. HOW did I ever find such a tiny spot to live in, when Italy offered so many places? This question I can answer relatively fluently now!

When I left the office I felt great; the man asking the questions asked me to let them know when my next exhibition would be. The woman with the sunny personality handling my application is now a friend; we will go to concerts and eat gelati in the summer, she will bring her daughter to see me paint.

As I ate my breakfast on my comfortable couch, warmly dressed and wearing my Christmas gift slippers, I watched a program about the problem of clandestine immigrants in Italy. Sleeping under blue plastic covers, wearing plastic bags inside their shoes to keep their feet dry, sharing the little they had, trying to hide in their shanty towns as the cameras approached, their futures looked bleak. Comradeship was really their only resource.

We sit in our houses, alone, wondering what to bake today, how to arrange our furniture, how much money we might need to survive independently in our old age. Comradeship is sometimes lacking.

The "talking heads" discussing the problem were not threatening to evict these immigrants. They were looking for solutions, and wondering how they will cope when, not if, the next four hundred arrive.

It makes my "problem" about finding good light for painting in the winter pretty pathetic, really.