In Waterworld: A Biennale, a Cannarino, a Few Film References and a Little Bit of Mystery

Can you Imagine this as your main means of transport? (I've been doing it since I was a child.)

This house gets a point for the boat and a point for having its very own bridge.

"So when I was nine, I dreamed up a terribly engaging game for me and my little cousin: it was a time when my parents had put down a beautiful blue carpet in our sunken-in living room (which, as soon as it was installed, had me pretending to be a little mermaid - I would roll around on that carpet as if I were a mermaid doing somersaults in the deep blue sea). It wasn't until one Saturday when Darian came over that I was able to put my master plan in action. Now, she and I lived in a city of canals, rightly known as 'Waterworld.'

The couches became our canal banks, while their cushions were plonked down to make a bridge over water between the foyer and the kitchen (both on higher ground, thus naturally the terra firma in this gracious little city resembling the Venice of my mind's eye). We were two lucky sisters whose parents owned and operated the "Plaza Hotel;" the world was our oyster, and our favorite pastime was solving "mysteries" - two little private-eyes always getting into mischief in a magical land where only boats or walking could get you from point A to point B."

I must say the canals are not as blue as my parents' living room carpet was in the '90s.

Funnily enough, it was not until my eighth trip to Venice that I even connected our childhood revelry to the city itself. I found myself spontaneously detailing this funny little anecdote to an acquaintance, Fiorella, over dinner in Venice's Rio Novo neighborhood.

"Carina la cosa," laughed Fiorella. I think what made my story so poignant for me in that moment was the spirit with which my little game had been invented. Yes, I (that is, my imagination) was highly influenced by movies as a child. Already we have references to a couple obvious titles, and perhaps two that are less so, i.e. Big Business for the prominence it gives to the Plaza Hotel, and the comedic film Blame it on the Bellboy. Blame it on the Bellboy was crucial as my first introduction to the city of Venice, for it is that which instilled in me the excitement and intrigue of such a mesmerizing-yet-hidden, and sprawling-yet-cozy city bobbing on its host lagoon; and it is exactly what I felt that evening.

A city beautifully bobbing.
(Click for bigger photos and slideshow.)

After dinner, Fiorella, who also happens to be a former Italian senatrice, ordered a cannarino. I didn't want to be a copy-cat, but after almost ten minutes of drooling at her elegant glass of hot water-lemon peel infusion, I had to have one myself. Not only was it pretty, with its serpent-like, spiral-cut lemon peel lining the long glass, but it served as a digestive and besides, was just nice to have on a chilly night, right before a short stroll to tuck back into our hotel.

Each of my trips to La Serenissima over the last 11 years has been marked by an occasion: a visit to the Peggy Guggenheim, a day trip to gawk at the sights of Carnavale, a weekend to mark the Festa del Redentore. Last May, my most recent travel there was arranged just to see the Biennale dell'Arte, which was totally worth it and then some. 

The perennial Belgian Pavilion in Venice's Giardini. (Does it remind you a little of the Justice Building in The Hunger Games?)

"All the World's Futures," the theme of the 2015 Biennale, focuses on all that is human. My favorite pavilions and exhibits were "humanitarian" in the sense that they focused on colonialism, alienation and exploitation (the Belgian and Korean pavilions in the Giardini, and the "NoNoseKnows" pearl exhibit in the Arsenale, respectively), as well as religion, with the sort of tongue-in-cheek Icelandic pavilion, the short-lived Mosque inside a former church in the Cannareggio neighborhood that was eventually shut down by the city's governing body. 

So I had my day at my first Biennale dell'Arte, and I would gladly go back to see it all again. The same evening, I wandered the first Jewish Ghetto in world history, and enjoyed another delicious meal in the chilly outdoors, not far from a canal that was beginning to flood onto the city sidewalks. So much so that I was forced to choose between submerging my Chloe ballet flats in a deep and vast, non-hoppable puddle, or finding an alternate route back to the hotel. (I chose the latter.)

The commodification of human labor at Mika Rottenberg's "NoNoseKnows," one of hundreds upon hundreds of exhibits inside the Arsenale.

But this is all part of the fun: I felt like a child that weekend, and particularly on Saturday night, having a Venetian aperitivo of cicchetti with the cool kids of Cannareggio, getting lost in the calle and feeling like there truly is some (non-threatening) mystery hiding just around the corner and waiting to be solved, catching sight of a pudgy little boy scarfing down the goods in his father's kosher bakery while his family supped in the restaurant across the street, and being swept along in Venice's stream of changing moods and occasions as if it were my playground. 

Every time I visit, I fall ever more in love with her. But this time in particular, I felt closer to both her and the child first enamored of her by way of a goofy murder-mystery. That was no doubt described on the VHS cover as a "romping good time!"

The South Korean Pavilion. This is supposed to be all of us in the future: cold and alienated. (She's kind of got a Mila Jovovich from The 5th Element attitude going on here.)

I  don't want to spoil it for you if you plan on going, but to see inside the Belgian, Icelandic and Japanese pavilions - and plenty more photos from Waterworld - visit my Instagram feed, mediterranean_moves.

Mediterranean Heirlooms in America: The Mabee Gerrer Museum of Art

Detail of a c. 14th Century Altarpiece, one of several at the Mabee Gerrer Museum of Art.
Typical of the Florentine style. Tempera and Gold on Panel, attributed to Spinello Arentino.

Esteban Murillo's 17th Century Madonna in Oil on Canvas.

Raphael's Connestable Madonna. 

Extremely small tempera and oil on wooden panel, the original of which lies in the Hermitage.

(Like Gregory Gerrer, Raphael was commissioned to create art for the Pope of his time.)

While one might not presume that they could find interesting, original works of art from all around the world - including prestigious Renaissance paintings and ancient Egyptian finds - in a small town just outside of Oklahoma City, that is exactly what lies at the Mabee Gerrer Museum of Art at St. Gregory's University, in none other than Shawnee, Oklahoma.

Perhaps it has something to do with the wealth of the Catholic Church - it does - nonetheless it has much more to do with the fact that Gregory Gerrer was a promising young artist who, having immigrated to America from France, eventually found himself at the Benedictine monastery that would later become St. Gregory's. 

Highly-intriguing Canopic Jars from Egypt's Middle Kingdom. Oft depicted the Four Sons of Horus and used to guard organs removed from mummies.

To make a long story short, Gerrer ended up meeting an abbot who was so taken by the young monk's talent that he sent him back to Europe, to Rome exactly, so that he could study painting and travel for a temporary period of time... (Now, myself being a native Oklahoman who has lived in Rome for six years, I cannot deny that I found this little fact terribly exciting when it was revealed to me just after I paid for my museum ticket last November.)

As with many a museum collection, this one began with the personal collection of its founder, who gathered pieces from one journey to another while traveling abroad. Having brought them back with him to the great State of Oklahoma after each trip, Father Gerrer founded the museum - more recently housed in this bordeaux-walled little gem of a museum - in 1919, and it has been accumulating treasures ever since.

Greek terra-cotta deity figurines from 400 B.C. Found in the Boeotia Region, in the famous cemetery of Tanagra.

While I know that the museum, as lovely and fascinating as it may be, will not in itself inspire most travelers to put Oklahoma on their destination list anytime in the near future, be aware that National Geographic Traveler has placed the capital city on its own list for 2015. However, if you do happen to be just one state away, passing through on the old Route 66 or even in town on business, seeing a Thunder game or a regatta on the Oklahoma River, Shawnee is a quick, 45-minute drive from Oklahoma City.

Winged Lion, symbol of St. Mark, Patron Saint of Venice. Shield accompanying a suit of armor constructed by Vincenzo Zenon in 1446. Suit bears as part of its inscription Venezin, which most would assume is Veneto (regional) dialect for Venetian. (Also attests that Zenon built the armor in San Silvestro, which most likely means the Parish of San Silvestro.)

Of course, if you are an art scholar, Mabee-Gerrer most likely is already on your radar, and it is for good reason that you should make the effort to see it in your lifetime. The wealth of this collection is astounding, having surprised me with several Byzantine-style altarpieces, canvases by Guido Reni and Veronese, a Raphael and an Esteban Murillo, among plenty of others.

And if you are a native Oklahoman still in-state, you have no reason not to go. Outside of Mother Nature herself, it is a reflective escape from the quotidian and mundane. The Mabee-Gerrer Museum is quiet's abode; duck in for just a bit to revel in this oasis of stillness, ideally now, when the cold and wind all but come sweeping down the plain.

Complete view of the Arentino Altarpiece. The majority of the works in the Mabee-Gerrer collection are essentially votive creations - standing watch over and protecting those they served (Egyptians, Greeks and Italians alike). Together and individually, they evoke the visitor's awe and reverence for the centuries and millennia of culture, history and memories they keep.

Further Links

The Mabee-Gerrer Museum of Art

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Weekend Perspective: In Hadrian's Eyes

Captivating. Colossal marble bust of Hadrian from 1st-2nd Century A.D. Originally displayed in Athens's Agora, it is now the property of the National Archaeological Museum in the same city.

If I'm being honest, it is not everyday you find such a well-curated collection in Italy as that running at the Archaeological Museum of Hadrian's Villa until November 2nd. 

Hadrian and Greece: Villa Adriana in Classicism and Hellenism, small though it may be, comprises caryatids, busts and statues in the Hellenistic style (thus testimony to Hadrian's appreciation for Hellenism), all hailing from various parts of Greece and realized during Hadrian's rule as Emperor, 117 to 138 A.D. 

Originally displayed in the likes of Corinth and the Agora of Athens, among other places, these propaganda pieces are absolutely gorgeous, are very well-illuminated, and come complete with very thorough historic descriptions. A week later, I can't but continue to stare at all the photos I took away and ponder the history during Hadrian's lifetime. 

Female busts in marble, 2nd Century A.D., normally on view in the Archaeological Museums of Corinth and Athens.

If ever you are in the Rome area, make every effort to get to Tivoli to see the Villa Adriana, which is a jewel in itself and only a half-hour away from the Eternal City. 

At 5 Euro, prices are nice, while the first Sunday of the month is always free. (The current exhibit costs an extra 7-11 Euro, but if you go on November 2nd, you can see both without paying a cent!)

These Caryatids, the female shaped columns of ancient Greece, once completely surrounded Hadrian's Canopus, thus mixing the Hellenistic with the Egyptian! (The Canopo was a sort of luxury resort in ancient Egypt, so renowned in the Mediterranean world that Hadrian decided to copy it on his villa grounds.)

For more info, visit CoopCulture

For more of my photos, visit my Instagram feed @Mediterranean_Moves

Weekend Perspective: Faith, Football and...

Basilica di Santa Cecilia, Trastevere, Rome.

(Click photo to enlarge.)

Thinking about #Argentina and

#CAR 

#SouthSudan

#Gaza #Palestine 

#Israel 

#Syria #Iraq 

#Ukraine 

#notjustfootball

Weekend Perspective: Faith and Football

In cultures around the world, soccer (football for everyone else) has long been as much a part of daily life as religion. Often during my travels, I never lack for occasions to observe both remarkable religious structures and young people playing the game. Morocco is no exception, and although the country has not qualified for the World Cup since 1998, the passion for this universal sport is always front and center.

(Click for larger photos and slideshow.)

The former Synagogue in El Jadida, 

whose Jewish community was once so sizable

it boasted 12 Jewish temples.

Whether in a tiny, colorful medina alleyway, or on a desolate street whose modern decay contrasts to what is just inside the old city walls, soccer pitches both improvised and planned are as common here as churches are in Italian cities. Snapshots of the Moroccan urban landscape reveal a continuous hodge-podge of shops, houses and playing "fields," with the mosques, former synagogues, and rare church acting as its hinges. 

See more photos and read about my visit to Morocco in Back to the Maghreb

Casablanca's Grand Mosque Hassan II.

A mother and her children pass below one of the arcades that compose the Hassan II complex.