priorities...

The work in the cantina has finally started... yes, today is a red-letter day! Sergio has begun, and the result will be wonderful... I am so excited about what it will look like in a few weeks time :-) Sergio is shocked at the size of the espresso coffee I poured for him... I really do think these tiny coffees are just a tease. Make mine double, or none at all thanks!

I was going to write my New Year letter today, as it is still (only just) January here in Italy, but gosh darn it, I saw something I needed to change in the portrait of my young friend in the glasses. So I am painting by the computer where the heater is. And I got paint on my wonderful big woollen cardigan-jacket thingy that I forgot I was wearing. That was so nearly a disaster, but the portrait propped up on my bed for me to contemplate is now looking so much more like the rascal he really is.

Yes, today it is very good to be alive... and maybe tomorrow, I'll write my New Year letter... maybe, maybe...

slow progress today

Today is market day in my village but I didn't need to buy anything so I didn't go...



I am making some progress with the portrait

...but the brush in my hand and the hands on the clock are moving far too slowly

Hopefully things will get better as the day goes on.

Zacchi has been in and out of the door at least a dozen times. Neither of us is settled today. Zacchi's excuse is a cute little girl doggy wanting to come in to play. I don't have an excuse. Sometimes I get things wrong, take offense too easily. The Italians have a word for people like that. Permaloso. I have to make sure it never fits me.

Zacchi thinks we both need a long, long, walk.

Post script: I am staying with portraits a while. They were not part of the plan for the year. My goal is to paint portraits that are better than a photograph. I don't believe in painting things that can be photographed wonderfully. But sometimes a portrait, even if it misses an exact likeness, can capture the personality in a way no single photograph can. That is my challenge.

milestones

Today as I write there is a 60th birthday in my New Zealand family. It is strange not being there. It made me think about a lot of things.

Here in Italy there are some old old markers along the roads, we would call them milestones, but I am not actually sure what the measurement was in Roman times. Milestones are only important if you are counting, if you have an end destination in mind. Yes, reaching a milestone is a cause for celebration, maybe. But then you sadly remember those who did not make it to such a milestone, and that can hurt. Reaching a milestone could be an excuse for a party, if you need an excuse. But life is for celebrating every day.

I am a "big picture" person, I like to know what is likely to be ahead of me. I don't like surprises, even good ones. For my own "milestone birthdays" I like to try something new. When I turned thirty I bought myself my first pair of jeans, and my first pair of running shoes. I have heard that the reason the younger generation dont wear jeans is that my generation wont stop wearing them. When I was young, young ladies didn't wear jeans, they were the domain of the worker, still being used for the original purpose for which they were designed.

For my 40th birthday, I was torn between a trip in a hot air balloon or ice skating. Ice skating was a childhood dream. I loved to skate, and my rollerskates were well worn on the bumpy cracks in the concrete at the Marumaru Memorial Hall. In the torchlight under my blankets I read stories of ice skating, and dreamed that I too would twirl elegantly around on the ice. I made it to an ice-skating rink at 41, only one year later than planned. It was wonderful... until in a moment of lost concentration I ended up on my tail bone. Recovery was slow and painful.

My fiftieth birthday plan was to go up in a glider. Another wish I have held for a long long time. But I was busy in the middle of my MFA degree, and it seemed that I should be content with that. The glider could wait until I turned 55. That birthday happened last year, with large cake and candles, here in Italy. Red wine, family and friends, but no glider.

I have often asked myself why I love to be up high, need to live on a hill, and prefer to go on holidays when I can fly somewhere. Why did it always seem that if I went by car, driver or not, my problems seemed to follow me? There was no sense of real release from daily grind. I decided, once I began flying as a passenger alone, that a large part of that was to do with giving away all responsibility. In the car, I was still a parent, still making decisions, still aware of all my surroundings, still completely responsible. But flying alone, from the moment of buckling up my seatbelt, I handed all responsibility to the pilot. And that act, the relinquishing of control, made even a business trip a holiday.

That doesn't explain why I need to live on a hill. But on this hill, looking out over the Liri Valley, a sea of lights by night and myriad of changing colours and patterns by day, I feel free and alive. But even here, part way up the hill, I still have the urge to climb further. My view is great, but the view from the top is so much better...



When I lived in a river valley as a child I spent most of my free time climbing hills or reading books sitting up in a tree. Yes, I love the water, and particularly love to sleep under canvas by a trickling stream. But most of all, I love being up.

I don't have a milestone of my own this month. But I don't think I need a milestone. I just need someone who will fly with me.

today was a bit bitsy...

The downs and ups of it all. The day started badly, so I went shopping... came home with 6 new canvases. Good for the spirits, it is. Books and art supplies are not shopping really, they are therapy...

The guy who was supposed to start on my work on Saturday couldn't because he was called back to his real work. He doesn't work Sundays and I respect that. He was due at 9am this morning... but at midnight he was called in to work again so was well asleep at 9am and not at my house. So no gym, no long walk, just lots of waiting to see what eventuated. However... he is a good guy. He and his wife and children all called in tonight at 6pm and he will start work on Wednesday, all things being equal...

My really serious student has returned. He wants to understand grammar, so next week we study the future conditional tense. I think it is used more in English than in Italian. He is important. He is my petrol money.

And today, I started the portrait of the new glasses. I think the child underneath them is coming along OK too... here he is in the early stages.

last night...

Last night Angela's young son came for his English lesson. He saw the portrait on the mantelpiece and ran to it, saying "Mamma" with great delight. I beamed. He wanted to take it home. Really wanted to take it home. But the paint still isn't dry... it took two little fingerprints on the painting and a sheepish "I believe you now" grin on the child to establish that the portrait couldn't go home...



And now it is back to acrylics, much as I prefer oils for portraits. Papà is dry already. Not finished, but dry. By next Saturday it wouldn't surprise me if Papà could go home but Mamma might still be drying. Mamma is beautiful, Papà looks strong. That's how it should be, isn't it?



And my young friend, the one with paint on his fingertips, I may have to paint again. I am reluctant to change his glasses, as the portrait was of him as he was some time ago. But now, nearly a year older and with new glasses, he is more beautiful... and irresistible when he peers over those glasses to beg to have the portrait updated... I suspect a fast acrylic portrait of a lovable rascal could be coming soon.

Then, once the commissions are finished, I think I'll paint my own lovable rogues. All four of them. That way I will know exactly where they are!

But now, to light the fire. It is chilly again, and then they promise us Spring really will be here. The weather forecasts here seem to be quite reliable. The shy flowers waiting to burst through the muted green veils can dance with their cheeky companions who popped out to play a couple of weeks ago.

it's saturday, all day...

Some time ago someone cut down the tree on the vacant land next to me and carried away green firewood. I came home and disturbed them, and nothing was cleared away. Because I am still a bit afraid of snakes, since last May I have cleared and mowed and cared for that vacant lot. If anyone had a right to that tree, it was me. But I was not cold enough, not poor enough, not cunning enough to think of stealing a tree in mid-winter. But now, each day, I clip a few twigs from the remaining trimmings for next year's kindling. Not stealing, just tidying up of course... Waste not, want not, my grandmother used to say...

Today was shopping day. I hate shopping. I had a huge trolley of supplies. It was close to lunch time. I invited five shoppers to go ahead of me in the queue. I was given five wonderful smiles in return... How easy it is to make someone smile :-)

Bounty Bars taste just as sinfully good in Italy as they did in New Zealand.

While I didn't mind dishes piling up in the kitchen, I can't stand dirty dishes in the studio. It didn't wear off, I became more fanatical about it.

This morning I finished the portrait of Angela. The last brush stroke was her tiny diamond nose stud. I hope she likes it. I think I do.

Internet is a wonderful thing. Yesterday a friend in Belgium reminded me that it was Rocco's birthday today. I had forgotten. I went up to greet Rocco this morning. No, said his wife, it's not his birthday today. She looked puzzled. So I chatted to Rocco at his workshop, but didn't mention his birthday. Later, Rocco called out to me. Oggi, oggi, (today, today). He is 72 today. His wife had forgotten. Thanks Luk, I think we made his day.

Now my lunch break is over, it is time to walk Zacchi. Or time for Zacchi to walk me. Dare I munch another Bounty Bar...?

another post

Zacchi says, it's ok to write another post today because we missed one when the computer was away.

The sun is shining. There was a heavy frost in the valley below us this morning. We feel quite smug on our sunny hillside, being above the frost and below the snow. It is crisp and clear, a little on the cold side unless you are in the sun. But it is a beautiful day for a walk.

Work went quite well this morning, despite cold wrists. A new story has evolved to be illustrated soon. So after lunch, we walked the two kilometres to the village, and took tea with an elderly friend. Zacchi liked the walk, but is not so sure about stopping for tea.

This could be the beginning of a new routine. Then siesta time is used happily outdoors, and we will work better when we return.

It was an exciting walk... four big dogs to get past, it was much safer being carried, thanks Mum, says Zacchi as his little heart goes thud thud thud...and one little dog friend to sniff at. And on the way home a new doggy friend to get to know...

And lots of posts. Lots and lots of posts. A chap must learn to pace himself better, Mum says.