The Tolerance Tribute

I don't know what it is about me and the writing lately. It's like I left the brain faucet on again. I should be sleeping.

***

The Boy recently found out what a "push present" is. (To be fair, I only found out what a Push Present was not so long ago, too. If you don't have kids, and don't plan to, there's just a whole entire vocabulary that you'll never acquire.)

He asked me if I had ever heard of the concept, wide eyed. To which I replied that I thought perhaps the concept of the Push Present is something akin to a Hallmark Holiday, wherein deBeers and Harry Winston, plotting in an evil jewelry cabal, cooked up a diabolical scheme to create another reason for an unsuspecting populace to buy fine diamonds.

I'm not sure when the Push Present hit the mainstream consciousness and I'll never be familiar enough with the demographic of new parents to know if this is the totally middle-class/ upper-class American phenomena that it seems to be at the outset. Did this particular gift find its start on the pages of People magazine? Anyway, I'm guessing that in the olden days (i.e., when you and I were born) that the Push Present was basically... the kid. Now it's the kid AND something encrusted with diamonds, which for an earlier generation of moms who never got a Push Present must be a little bummed to say the least, there must be some sort of retroactive compensation, to be fair?).

I'm not one for owning fancy jewelry, or even real jewelry. (Which is a good thing as I live with a guy who doesn't believe in buying it either.) I have a box full of costume jewelry and I'm BIG on rhinestones. First of all, rhinestones can be just as sparkly and exciting (and due to their being cheap bits of glass, you can have lots of them), and secondly, if a rhinestone falls out of a ring or an earring, you won't throw up thinking about how much that just cost you. I don't want the pressure.

However it did get me thinking about us non-child producing females. The Boy asked me what kind of present we should get. I don't know about the rest of you, but I decided that I should get a Tolerance Tribute (it's all about alliteration to make a catchy and lasting impact on the mind). For putting up with daily shenanigans more akin to living with someone who's part Spanky from the Little Rascals, part Harpo (as in the Marx Brothers) and the rest Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes. In short, trouble.

The Boy can be a full-time job, too. I just didn't give birth him.

Yesterday we went to the "Cartier in America" exhibit at the Legion of Honor. It's one of those things that you go to, thinking This will be cool. I'm glad I have a membership so I don't have to pay and stand in line and end up leaving saying, Yeah, I totally need a tiara. Even if in your wildest imagination you had never considered a tiara, when you leave this exhibit, you will feel like owning one now is pretty much a necessity. And, that it should be a real tiara, with real Cartier-style diamonds in it. Granted, you might not have anything to wear with the tiara, but that's not the point.

On a less shallow note, the exhibit is pretty gorgeous and extraordinary. While your eyes are dazzled and you take in all of the exquisite detail and workmanship of these artisans of a bygone era (yes, because the newer Cartier pieces can't hold a candle to the Belle Époque stuff), you also can't help imagining the subtle pressure and competition amongst the elite who commissioned, bought and wore these items. Who will have the bigger tiara, the heavier brooch, the more elaborate cigarette case? It didn't mention on the descriptions which of these jewels might have been Push Presents, but you can use your imagination there too.

Seedling

A seed hidden in the heart of an apple is an orchard invisible. ~ Welsh Proverb

***

I just read the most wonderful post by someone I absolutely adore, the multi-talented and passionately expressive Gypsy Girl.

Her beautiful photo of sunflowers (she is one of my photography-inspirational cheerleading angels), the lovely poem and her personal fairy tale are something I think you'll enjoy. And make you think about what kind of seed you might be.

.

Babies and seeds and renewal and creating...all things on my mind lately.

Give the Gypsy Girl a visit here.

***

Gypsy Girl's post reminded me of some photos I took last week at the Chihuly exhibit that is currently on display at the deYoung Museum. These magnificent works of glass, vibrant exotic gardens of shapes and color, all lovingly and painstakingly grown from grains of sand birthed in fire...if you can make it to see these works, you will be astonished by their incredible beauty.

.

.

More eye candy is here.

This is a video profiling the artist and his work:

The Museums of Venice

For a tiny conglomeration of islands that measures only two miles in one direction and one mile in the other, Venice has an extraordinary amount of world-class art per square inch. If San Francisco had even one tenth of the art available daily in Venice, I would be over the moon with joy. Not to mention that the buildings that house this treasure trove of art are some of the most beautiful palaces in the city, built during the extravagant heyday of Venice's glory.

I did not go to all of the museums. That would not have been possible in a single week. I decided to choose my haunts carefully, based on my interests and not merely upon the most famous sights. So I skipped the Accademia and some of the more religious-based museums and churches in favor of more modern works and museums that explore the history of the city. I was not disappointed in any of my choices.

My first stop in Venice was the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, in our local sestiere of Dorsorduro, the day after our arrival. This visit was probably the closest thing to a pilgrammage for me, artwise. I had been intrigued by The Red Tower, a painting by Giorgio de Chirico, after having seen the work in an art history class my freshman year in college. For some reason, that painting had stayed with me, even though my only exposure to it had been a 2-inch representation in a thick art book. Now I had my chance to see the real thing, and I made a beeline for the painting when I entered the museum.

It is a unique and singular experience to see up close and in person a work of art that you admire (even if you are not sure exactly why you like it). Only then, does the work truly become art. When you stand in front of the piece, whether it is a painting, sculpture or something else entirely, there is a physical sensation that makes you appreciate and understand what the artist was trying to communicate. In those same circumstances did I understand the greatness of the Mona Lisa, and the genius of Van Gogh.

During my visit to the Guggenheim, I also had a chance to see a charming painting, Empire of Light, by another favorite artist, René Magritte, and be introduced to the works of Max Ernst, Guggenheim's husband and a sensitive artist who was obviously somewhat deranged.

This particular painting, The Attirement of the Bride, was fascinating and nightmarish and very personal, given that the bride is Peggy Guggenheim herself and the circumstances of the imagery are certainly disturbing.







The next museum I enjoyed thoroughly was the Palazzo Fortuny, a large Gothic palazzo in Campo San Beneto, which was transformed by designer Mariano Fortuny into his own atelier of photography, stage-design, textile-design and painting.

The museum itself is very enigmatic. It is more of an atmosphere and a presence than a place to see a certain piece of art. Fortuny is best known for his textiles and silks , but this is by no means a costume museum.

The only fabrics of his design cover the walls on the second floor atelier, giving the large room the feeling of an opium den or a Sultan's lair. The main room is partially filled with strange and macabre artifacts and curiosities, and is best visited when you are in a mood to be slightly disturbed, and wanting to enjoy the feeling of otherworldliness.




The other modern art collection, Ca' Pesaro, is located on the Grand Canal in one of the finest palazzos in Venice, which started construction in 1628 and was completed in 1710. The sestiere of Santa Croce has a very medival feeling to it as you walk the narrow alleyways.

Although the exterior of the building retains its classic Venetian appearance, inside is a treasury of Impressionist and modern artists.

I have finally had the chance to see a Gustave Klimt painting, Salome, in person. It was large, framed in gold leaf, full of lust and glorious to behold. I visited it three times while I was in the museum, wanting to take full advantage of it while I was there.

Nearby to Ca' Pesaro was a smaller--but no less fascinating--museum, Palazzo Mocenigo. From Fodors (because they described it better than I could): So well preserved it looks like a movie set, this palazzo gives a sense of how wealthy families lived in the last years of the republic. Bequeathed to the city in 1945 by the last surviving Mocenigo heir, the home is richly decorated with polished floors, fabric-covered walls, and glass chandeliers from Murano.

The portego (entry hall), typical of Venetian palazzos, occupies about one-third of the total floor space; once used for receptions and balls, it now occasionally hosts classical concerts. Sparsely furnished, it's lined with portraits of the seven Mocenigo family doges and other notables.

Doors on both sides of the portego open onto bedrooms and salons, where visitors were received with a cup of hot chocolate in the early morning hours after nights typically spent at parties or seated at gambling tables. Furniture and paintings are all original and constitute a permanent exhibit. The mannequins' clothing, lace, fabrics, and accessories on display come from the Center for the History of Textiles and Costumes (housed in a wing of the palace) which organizes 15th- to 18th-century thematic exhibits.

Last, but not least, Ca' Rezzonico, is another palazzo situated on the Grand Canal, devoted to 18th century life in Venice. To say that the interiors of this building are breathtaking do not do it justice.

In addition to the myriad painted ceilings, portraits, gold leaf and fantastic furniture, are the most divine Murano chandeliers still in existence. The craftsmanship of everything in the palazzo is stupefying, but the glasswork, to me, were the most dazzling creations of all.

Of course you are not allowed to take pictures in this or any of the museums but I found a company that makes reproductions of the chandeliers at Ca' Rezzonico. This picture should give you an idea of what they looked like, if not the grandeur, scale and color of the originals.

Back in the lady's dressing room at Ca' Rezzonico, I was able to catch a couple of snaps of one of the plainest rooms in the house. The wash of pinks and greens in floral motifs made me imagine the lady's daily routine of getting dressed, assisted by her attendants, before she emerged for the day into the grand halls below her bedroom.

In one ancient mirror, I was able to catch a glimpse of myself, although dressed in drab grays and black and bundled in sweater, scarf and coat, for a brief moment, I tried to imagine myself as the lady of the house.