Ireland: Part 2 (Limerick and The Burren)

Ummm, I know it’s a BIT late to post about Ireland, but better late than never….

Welcome to the gate of ancestral memory. The city of Limerick where my great-great grandmother Elizabeth Duffy lived until she was 10 years old and then emigrated to the United States. That’s all I know about her, except that she was quiet, small and drank a lot, and had a shock of bright red hair, not unlike the paint on this gate.

Limerick is a mysterious twist of turns and alleys, and everyone seems to be keeping a historical secret. After reading Frank McCourt’s Angelas Ashes, I can guess that this might be the suffering endured by growing up Irish Catholic up until about 20 years ago, but then again maybe it’s all in the name, Limerick: a riddle, a lyric trick.

I really think Ireland is a poetic place, and Limerick must have gotten it’s name somehow. Nature and the past seem to intertwine into a picture-perfect postcard image of your own sentimentality. At least I felt that way as an Irish-American stepping foot for the first time on Irish soil.

And so to the backdrop of limericks and faeries and folktales we set off on a journey to the Burren, a famous Irish lunar-like landscape.

Just perfect for playing and building stone people.

From there, the Cliffs of Moher, a powerful gust of wind, crashing waves and at the height of 200 meters the inevitable question of life and death right at your feet….

And taking it all in, reflecting on the root of origins, the meaning of place, if there really is a home, and if the heart lies there, what it means to be an American divided genetically into 7 or 8 different cultures, if cultural identity is essential or if being an individual is enough. I just keep rocking, back and forth, back and forth, present.

Ireland Part 1: Galway and the Mùscailt Festival

Yes, here’s my excited smile as we wait to board the plane to Dublin. The first time in Ireland for both Luca and I, a place that has always spoken to us because of our roots that in someway lead back there. I, like many Americans, have Irish roots, and although it was my great-great grandmother who was from there, it’s still the closest relative to me that immigrated from another  country. With family history in mind, and Luca concentrated on his project, we touched down in Ireland on the 4th of February, also both of our sisters’ birthdays (same year, too!).

One of the most impressive things about Ireland is the history and mystery left behind by the Celts. The island of Eire (”Ireland” in Irish) has been populated for something like 10,000 years, and although the Celts didn’t originate from Ireland, when they came to settle the island they created a strong culture and legacy.

Before coming to Ireland I read up a lot and so know that the photo above of a drain on the streets of Galway contains the Celtic symbol “triskele”, which is a three-part spiral radiating out from the same point. The Celts saw great importance in the number 3: earth, sea, sky; past, present,  future– a lot of important Celtic elements came in threes. The triskele is especially connected to the goddess in three phases: maiden-mother-crone, or with  the moon: new, waxing/waning, full.

And here’s another symbol on the Galway cathedral, the five-pointed star, representative of the sacredness of the human being, as in Da Vinci’s famous drawing.

So, welcome to Galway, and to Ireland in fact, home of Guinness, Smithwick, and pub culture general. Galway has a pretty good music scene, and most of it lives within the pubs, where you can here both modern bands and “trad” (traditional Irish music).

You can tell that Luca is more of a Smithwick guy.

Galway is on the west coast of Ireland, the capital so to say of what’s left of the Irish-speaking region of the country. People are very proud of this tradition, and most signs and official events are conducted in both English and Irish.

It is also one of the wilder parts of Ireland, with the Atlantic Ocean right there and somewhat abandoned landscapes. Luca and I took a bike ride one gorgeous Saturday along the coast, and as you can see there are just miles and miles of pastures with horses and farm animals along the coast….

And so now we have arrived at the National University of Ireland, Galway, the host of the Mùscailt Festival which brought Luca and I to Ireland in the first place. Traditional yet inviting, small-town yet big energy, Galway is a place that has seen the coming and going of foreigners (and it’s own people, for that matter) for hundreds of years. We felt completely welcome at the university, thanks to a wonderful and well-organized staff: James, Fionnuala, Kathy, Dierdre, Pilar.

And so, after a few days of renting tools, getting materials from the scrap yard, and organizing the space designated for Luca to build his sculpture (the tennis courts of the university), he began work!

What was at first going to be a large metal potato with fungus sinking in a ship became an interpretation of the space he was given to work in: two people looking at each other across a sort of net of communication. One of these people developed into the symbol of traditional Ireland with fixed roots, and the other became a representation of the country’s will to move ahead. From this the idea if the women-harp grew, with a sea of symbols and possibilities in front of her.

:::::::::INTERMISSION:::::::::

Time to introduce the stars of the show, Luca Ciavarella, and his goat:

and Amy Hough, with hers:

Supporting actress, housemate for three days and provocative artist from Manchester, England, Sue Fox:

And now, back to our program on Flirt FM with host James Fleming and guest, metal artist Luca Ciavarella:

::::::::::ACT TWO:::::::::::

Fixing the gate of language, history and new ideas, the younger generation starts to take notes.

Putting in the last touches, shining the roots of this 12-foot sculpture which was completed by one man in 5 days….. and…..

….vio là! The finished sculpture of the beautiful harp-maiden of Ireland. Here’s the full analysis:

The sculpture “Tradition of Change” by metal artist Luca Ciavarella was constructed entirely from used scrap metal and represents the harp as a symbol of Ireland. Inside the frame of the harp, the form of a woman dressed in patchwork of blue, green, gray, and brown emerges, symbolizing the union of diverse counties and agricultural regions of Ireland. Thick tube roots below and a lightweight bicycle-wheel head with wings above represent, on the one hand, deep tradition, and on the other thought in motion, discovery, travel and desire to look ahead. As on every island, the sea has a powerful presence in Ireland, and this fact manifests itself as the second important element of the installation. The harp-woman looks out over a sort of “sea of languages, knowledge and written histories” in front of her, represented by a rusted panel of strange shapes that remind us of hieroglyphs which is accentuated by computer chips added by the artist.  Furthermore, the panel offers the space for two languages, English and Irish, to co-exist. Finally, the sculpture, which was designed and developed in the context of the tennis courts at NUI Galway, remains connected to its environment in the sense that, by looking at the installation with the artist’s eye, you see a player (the harp) on one side of a net (the panel). Who she is playing with is up to the viewer to imagine.

And so there is a happy ending to this tale of an artist and his little helper, who went off to Ireland to seek the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It is likely that the university will buy the sculpture and keep it on campus! Thanks to the help of the faeries and leprechauns, and just plain wonderful people that we met along the way.

There’s No Place Like Home

Aaaah yessss, there’s no place like Southern California (or at least in my world), where in the dead of winter you can strip down to your bikini and take a nice invigorating dip in the ocean, and survive to tell about it.

The sense of premature summer is so liberating that it makes you want to dance, or imitate Michael Jackson.

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

We’re in the Ventura thrift shops! “All I have is my little purse, and my hat.”

Granny, what a big cake you have! This is my lovely grandmother Ada.

CANCUN HERE WE COME!!!

Party spring-break style. Free beer and hot women– does it get any better than that?

Granny and her girls. Zigfield follies style.

Those margeritas were absolutely hideous. All 5 of them.

Whoa, girl, slow down on those things….

Oh great, now the whole family’s wasted!

Gettin’ down with Steely Dan after all those margeritas….

Awwww, yeah. We’re THAT hard. Zip lines.

Some ancient Mayan ruins to take the edge off of the resort strip.

Mayan football: The winning team had the honor of being sacrificed to the gods.

My sister and I, about to be sacrificed. I always knew we were big winners.

Maloja Palace and Haunting Beauty

A SONNET FOR MALOJA

The chance to escape,

with heart’s wings soaring,

from Berlin’s collective chaos,

to the Engadin’s magic solitude (((roaring)))

An unexpected vision,

of footprints pressed in time,

the characters take their place,

and the music begins to mime

stories of how grand the palace once was,

tales of a dying countess’ love,

a village built where three rivers spring,

vitality which hard work can bring,

the old that melts

so well into new

an artist’s wealth,

a rich man’s hue.

– Amy Hough

Just the Beginning of the Rainbow

The first few months in a new city is like throwing yourself hardcore into the battle of survival of the fittest. Finding work, friends, something fun to do at night, enough geld to live. And this is the moment we find ourselves in now: Every day is a surprise, good or bad, always different. A sculpture sold assures us we can pay our rent next month, job interview rejection brings up doubt, an opportunity to travel to Switzerland for a week´s work seems a gift from some higher power. Each disappointment is compensated with an even better chance that gleams out of the corner of our eyes.

And thus we have been on the prowl for work. Me mostly. I´m a beast turned loose on Berlin, pouncing on any little squeak of a job.

Yes, I went so far as to make a T-shirt advertising myself (Hey, the unemployment rate here is 13%. I needed to make myself visable somehow!). But with that said, the work I have found I adore. After years of teaching English and music to rowdy Italian kids, I feel more than adequately prepared for my job as part of the Storytime Books staff, where I read stories and sing songs with the comparedly well-behaved German children.

Adding literature to my mix of songs and gestures has been an unexpected delight (mostly for me!). The kids love it, too, of course, but I have been thoroughly enjoying exploring the world of children´s literature through my almost infinite access (and in two languages, at that!) to books at the bookstore, where I do these sessions of reading and music. I have also met some very interesting people who write their own music for children, which I have come to respect and admire as an important part in bettering the world (and also a possible future venture for myself!).

Something else I´m looking forward to is this almost random, yet I want to believe destined, opportunity to go to Switzerland for a week to work a private party at the Maloja Palace in St. Moritz, one of the wealthiest areas of Europe. The huge historic hotel (think, The Shining), undergoing restoration, will be hosting a private party for the owner´s friends, who are mostly Italian or English speakers. That´s where I came in. A stroke of luck had it that a place opened up for Luca to come along, too! So we´ll both be going in December. Look at those gorgeous mountains!

And so we are happy, for the time being.

Grateful for what life has presented as gifts to us, and proud of the strength we have as two people who go whole-heartedly after our dreams.

Luca´s side of the story is more intriguing every day. Lately he´s been selling sculptures as if they were kebabs out on the street. He has a hot spark inside of him, in the place where art is born, that drives him to create, believe in what he´s made, and make others stop and stare. He has the necessary ability to convince people to buy his art. But they don´t need to be convinced that it´s beautiful.

Both of these have sold, by the way, for several hundred Euros. Just to brag a bit.

It is amazing to follow the path of a visual artist. The excitement when you realize he has real talent, disappointment when he becomes too critical of his art. One thing for sure is that the art itself evolves, begins to grow its own spirit, has a character, and has to be both stimulated and disciplined, like a child. Or a walrus?

Some of the possibilites that pop up every day at Tacheles for Luca include going to build a sculpture from scrap metal at a festival in Ireland, someone making a documentary about his art, going to Paris for an exhibition, making a sculpture for an emergency waiting room. All of them within his reach, but never garanteed. Because art, in the end, is a risk.

Last weekend Manuela Barile, experimental vocalist, performance artist and friend, came to stay with us in Berlin while she was in town for two performances. We bothed lived with her at separate times in Bologna. It was amazing to have her here, and realize how much we´ve all grown up in the past two years. She has a one-and-a-half-year old son, and a professional career as an artist and director of Binaural Media (www.binauralmedia.org), one of the more important art associations in Portugal.

Her performance was fantastic, a mix of vocal and theatrical improvisation. She amazes me, because when she´s on stage it´s like she´s another person, or rather, possessed even, by a spirit that wants to play with our function as an audience as well as her own limits as an artist. Truly spectacular.

And so we are just at the beginning of the rainbow, and rising. The future holds more interviews, more propositions, more sculpture, more unexpected surprises. And that, it seems, is our little pot of gold that keeps us going.

Am I a Berliner yet?

No Amy, you’re not in Romania anymore. No more nice and punctual, once-a-week updated blogs. No more sweet pictures of little old grandmas on the farm. This is Berlin. Don’t expect a smile from the LIDL lady, or from the bus driver, either, for that matter. There was a wall once here, you know.

No Amy, this is not LA anymore. People don’t say the exact opposite of what they mean while flashing that plastic smile, protecting you, at least, from the truth. They say what they mean, with all it’s weight. No more flip-flops in October.

No Amy, this isn’t even Italy anymore. No more loud voices in the streets. No more curious eyes when you say you are American ( I think they’re way too used to it). No more good wine. No more blasphamies.

No, this is BERLIN. It’s cold. It’s grey. It’s on the 4th floor with no elevator. It’s a language where the verb always comes at the end and the articles have three different genders. It’s graffitti. It’s Tacheles. It’s power control. It’s artist-controlled. It’s German babies that speak English at the age of 2. It’s no work. It’s cheap housing and cheap vegetarian kebabs. It bikers and bakers. It’s Turkish. Re-construction. Fighting for the next brilliant business idea.

For Luca and I it’s the turning of a page. A risk, an attempt to put down roots in a place that’s foreign to both of us. A chance to develop our skills as artists and expand our understanding of the world. The prospect of becoming a part of a city that’s still getting it’s post-war facelift. And here we are.

THE OSTSEE

For those of you who imagine Germany as being cold, full of beer and mountains and, well, cold, you’re not mistaken. But I bet you haven’t really considered the German seaside. SEASIDE?! Yes, Germany has a (small) stretch of coast at the north. Luca and I visited when I got back from work in Italy in mid-September, and found it relaxing and beautiful. Cold, but beachy all the same.

This is the Thank-God-I’m-at-the-beach-after-months-in-the-city power pose. We fasted and did yoga on the beach, drove through the forest and past houses with thatched roofs, drew pictures and planned our upcoming year in Berlin. We were relieved to finally be moving into our new flat on Karl-Kunger-Strasse, former East Berlin, up-and-coming Alt-Treptow area near the canal, river, park and Kreuzberg, infamous Turkish, student, going out, a little grungy zone. Ahhh, home.

                 And so, we moved into our glorious new home………………………………………………………………….

      Ha ha, just kidding. We’re not quite that high-class yet. But our pad is noble just the same: a pre-war building that looks like it survived a war (see below). It’s spacious, funky, and has an awesome view of the Fernsehturm (TV Tower), Berlin’s icon. We have a neighbor on each side of us: a sweet mid-50s lady and her 14 year-old daughter who has invited us to brunch and who saved our butts with the Phone Company, and on the other side, Zamira, a West-German Berlin post-wall settler who has pictures of zoo animals all over his front door.

So this is the Karl-Kunger blockbuster. Not a looker, I admit, but a look-from-er. We can see a lot of green from the park and the tower and the rest of the city beyond. See the balcony way up top? Not the one with all the green plants (that’s Zamira’s), but the half cut-off one to the left above the tree? That’s us!

As for work, it’s a little harder to come by here. Although what I’m about to explain will sound great, we haven’t quite made it to the self-sufficient level yet. Finding work is difficult, and we’re feeling it. But at least we have a few things on the table. For starters, I’m working at a children’s bookstore called Storytime Books, doing a few hours a week reading stories in English, singing English songs, etc. It’s really fun. I have a few private lessons and a babysitting job. Up until Tuesday I was taking a German class 3 hours a day, and hopefully when I get some more cash I’ll start that up again. After all, that was my main reason for moving to Berlin.

Luca has a more exciting “job”. I put it in quotes because he’s an artist, and job means you make money. He’s exremely good at being an artist. He’s dedicated and skilled and spends long hours at the gallery. But as everyone knows, art is a gamble, and you only get paid when someone buys a piece. So that’s going well in the sense that he has his own studio, is developing his style, has an interesting lifestyle, and gets to do what he loves, but we’re trying to think about how to make it more profitable. I hang out at Tacheles a lot too because there are so many people and so much art; it’ s a stimulating environment.

It’s a rent-free kingdom of artists, a place where the values of art are both fought for and forgotten, or taken advantage of. Artists come and go, and so do tourists, capturing photos, not sculptures, to hang on their walls. It’s a place without limits, and in some ways, without expectations. It’s a place where many dreamers have left their mark.

And so this is the stage set for Luca’s inspiration. He makes metal sculptures, sometimes sells them, most of the time doesn’t, warms himself by the forge and has a beer with the other artists to discuss who sold what, and what would make his piece-in-progress better.

       

And this is the community of artists that we’ve found ourselves in the midst of. An open space for  creation, where even I’ve began to take out my paints and brushes. I’ve begun to put together a painting/collage of our entire ArtVenture trip with things I collected along the way. It’s kind of a visual diary.

And so, for the time being things are moving along. We’re at the beginning and we’re slowly gaining speed. Slow, but with a swing. Berlin pace.                     

                    

Berlin: Double, double toil and trouble…

…fire burn and caldron bubble! Words spoken, hearts broken, art alive and thriving, constant battling for survival against language, climate, culture, the unknown. Welcome to Berlin.

This spotlight painted over with four symbols represents my Berlin so far: the bike, active, discovery, searching for a place to fit in; the heart, full of love and wonder, building life in a new place with Luca; the anarchist symbol, full of contradictions, alternative culture, art, change; and finally the tear, representing extreme challenge, sadness, struggle, loneliness, nostalgia.

Let´s say I probably could use a hug! Berlin has presented itself in full form as a bold, harsh, courageous city. And even though I´m familiar with the place, making the move has proved quite challenging. Less than a week after I got here, my computer got stolen at Tacheles, where Luca works, and it´s taking a while to get over that. All my photos, music, writings, documents… well, it´s like losing memories. On top of that searching for housing has been unfruitful and disappointing. And trying to get together a million documents for a study visa, etc. A lot of work. I´m hoping that a little determination will pay off soon!

When we´re not stressing though we have a good time. Getting to know the many neighborhoods of Berlin is as fun as doing the same in San Francisco or New York, every area has a different style and character, and it´s amazing how much change and development I´ve noticed just in the 2 years since I was last in Berlin.

::::::::::::::::::::OBAMA:::::::::::::::::::::::::

On July 24 we went to see Obama speak near the Brandenburg gate. I thought I´d go be a good American and inform myself about Obama´s policies, seeing that I knew so very little about him even though I figured he was probably the best candidate. After waiting 4 excruciating hours in the hot sun, his very general speech (of which he read every word) about German/American relations and history (barely touching on his ideals as candidate for president) fell on tired ears. I was disappointed that he didn´t take a stronger stand on important issues like war and environment. But we were right up close and it was nice to be a part of the event.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::TACHELES:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luca works as an artist at Tacheles. Tacheles is a historical building from the early 1900s that was used both as a department store and then later as a Nazi meeting/office space. Two months before it was set to be demolished in April of 1990, a small group of artists occupied it and managed to convince the city that it was structurally intact enough to be used as is, and it was named a historical building. Now known as Tacheles, which means “straightforward” in Yiddish, it houses 5 floors of artists studios, several bars, a Latin-American nightclub, a cinema, a large beer garden and natural garden with a pond.

And Luca is living his dream of working as a metal sculptor in the midst of this beautiful and interesting place. His boss is an older Turkish guy who was one of the initial occupiers of Tacheles, and Luca works inside his office, getting paid and getting to use tools and materials to make his own art, some of which he also gets to contribute to the ground-floor gallery which is right on Oranianburgerstrasse, full of tourists and people passing by.

Watching his progress during the course of ArtVenture and up to now, I really see how he´s grown as an artist. Having a workshop with every kind of tool at his disposition allows him to be able to realize his projects in a more professional manner, and he loves it. I´m very proud of him! Here are some of the pieces he´s been working on.

“Sound Sculpture”

“Clipboard Cactus”

“Cock-tus”                                                ”Orango”

Aren´t they fabulous?? All of these are already on display at Tacheles. Come and get them! They´re on sale! As for me, I just started my first night last night (8pm-5 am) of working at as a bartender in the Tacheles “bus.” Basically it´s a van turned into a mini-bar in the middle of the beer garden. Luca´s working weekends as a bottle-collector, beer stacker, clean-up guy, so hopefully now we´ll get to work together. Work seems to have worked itself out, so hopefully the rest will, too. In the meantime,  these ”dragonfly moments” of peace and enlightenment are very welcome during this tumultuous and short Berlin summer.

Budapest: Statue Park

To us Americans, communism is a world of secrets behind closed doors, a word unutterable in public and a concept that “threatens” our society without most of us even understanding what it means and what it meant to a lot of people in Europe.

Most of Eastern Europe was communist at some point, and understanding their past is a good way of beginning to understand the massive change they’re undergoing at the present.

::::::::::STATUE PARK::::::::::

The boots in the photo up above once belonged to an entire statue of communist leader. During the (failed) Hungarian revolution in October 1956, they tore the statue down, and what remained was this pair of boots, which was to become a symbol of revolution.

Once communism finally fell in 1989, the political statues that once filled the streets and squares of Budapest were brought outside of the city, put together in one place and re-established as “Statue Park,” instead of being destroyed. They put capitalism into action straight away and now you pay a hefty entrance fee of $10 to get in, but I’d say it’s worth it. What’s missing is a description (in English) near each statue of where it was previously located in Budapest. But the images are fascinating and you manage to take a journey through the past anyways.

That’s a little girl with a rag doll above left. Many of the statues convey the ideal of the average person in the midst of all different types of other “average” people, all working hard and fighting for the good of the people and the communist party. Very heavy on the propaganda, statues trying hard to convince you that “yes, you are happy,” “yes, this is your choice,” “yes, you’re doing all this for the good of the people.”

I like this statue because it confuses me. Here’s your average communist guy, with the cap and all, but instead of conforming to the rest he’s breaking free of the wall. He’s made of the same material, but he’s busting through, becoming unique. There are many ways to read into this, but perhaps it’s a power thing, the wall put up against the rest of the world to defend communist ideals, but at the same time showing the strength of the individual within communist society, that every person can be this ideal slice of the mold.

This was my favorite statue. It’s communism in bubble; it has this sort of cartoon effect that I love. It’s a representation of all sorts of “average” people, women, men, soldiers, with one guy in charge saying, “Go ahead and get’em, the battle’s that way.” An he’s on a platform, so he ain’t budgin’. It brings to mind Mussolini’s famous comment that Luca always laughingly mentions, “Armiamoci e partite.” That is, “Let’s arm ourselves and get on your way,” which translates terribly, but in Italian has the clear sense of “we” putting on battle gear and “you guys” leaving for the battle. The guy in charge never comes away with a scratch. Some detail on this fascinating piece of communist art:

More than an average lady from the ’40s she looks like a witch walking across rooftops in the shot, but hey, gotta love the suspension above ground. Nice touch.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Unfortunately we were only Budapest for a day and a half, but like Berlin it’s a city full of art and interesting communist ruins and change. We saw a skeleton being unearthed by some guys digging a trench, and that was pretty cool. We saw a lot of metal sculptures, Luca’s favorite. That’s what I can say about the city: Nice sculptures, Budapest. Next time around we’ll try to stop at least long enough to go to the bathes and try a Hungarian meal.

Romania Part 3: Retrospect and Belonging(s)

Hello again everyone! I apologize for ditching the blog for a while, but in the middle of our trip I made the decision to return to Italy for a month to work at my old summer camps. I restocked on money and personal energy and on July 22 I’m flying to Berlin to meet Luca who’s been there for two weeks now! Check out his new blog in Italian: www.venturadellarte.wordpress.com. In response to the concerns, everything is fine with us and the camper and our project. When I left from Vienna, Luca continued the ArtVenture journey from Vienna to Berlin alone, passing through the Czech Republic. I’ve just finished working in the Garfagnana mountains in Tuscany, Italy, and we’re getting ready to start life, work and new projects in Berlin.

But as for the rest of our Romania trip, which I never finished telling…

…heart-warming and personal. That’s a honey truck above. Romania is full of fruit, colors, forests, bales of hay. Everything’s just a little bit out of style, and products/services a little more difficult to access than elsewhere. Romania’s the land of gypsies, the people known as Roma, and many Europeans seem to think that this wandering race have roots in Romania.

Endless planted fields and farmers with picks and rakes, horses instead of tractors and the seasonal fruit of that labor mile after mile on the side of the road. Just pull over and with a few RON get your fill of cherries, honey, watermelon that they’ve raised and cared for with their own two hands.

Some of the most unique architecture is half Victorian, half circus explosion of colors and shapes and wood-carved fringes lining the roof that you wouldn’t believe. Paint fading, roofs made from tin or aluminum that glimmer in the sun, so much that you notice from kilometers away.

And in the middle of it all, the three of us:

A Romanian-born Californian, a Californian living in Italy and an Italian. Weaving our impressions of contemporary Romania together with stories of a distressed past.

Playing inside and out of abandoned houses in random villages, hunting for the best ciorba in town, imagining what it would be like to intertube down the Mures River.

Dancing alone because we don’t really know where we fit in.

Knocking on doors and waiting for answers to unanswerable questions, wondering when to stop wandering, wandering to start wondering.

Our journey led us to the real treasure of Romania…

…and all his memories, stories, hard work and suffering that paved the way for his son and daughter, his daughter who became the mother of my friend, Iris. And here are Iris’s final reflections on her project with ArtVenture.

“My dad’s side of the family (my great aunts and uncles) was no Brady Bunch, not even after heavy editing and embellishments would they have received a stamp of approval. There was no theme song, no family station wagon, no spacious house with all the conveniences, or, if you will, nothing today’s generation and society could really relate to. Instead the 7 siblings dealt with hardship and misery and the looming sense that a carefree childhood with no want for anything could only exist in one’s wildest imagination. My initial idea of having the family members choose an object of significance to them proved difficult. Was it a sign of how they grew up, materially-deprived? Whatever the reason, it made more sense to just let the conversations take their course, knowing that eventually they would point out what was/is important to them. What really counted for them was health (the Romanian word for health, sănătate, is commonly said when people are saying goodbye), family (esp. grandkids) and important documents.
In looking at my mom’s side of the family (or more specifically, my grandfather) in Tirgu Mures, I soon noticed that “my work” had already been done for me. My bunicu, Carol, has his life (at least a hefty portion of it) on record. His notebooks are separated by months, with a page archiving the events of that months and another tracking the finances. If you skim through it (the current notebook starts in 2003) you’ll at times see a phone log telling you who called and when and even the temperature on certain days. It all seems to strongly suggest that pen and paper are his weapons against the fading and blurring of time, now so more than ever. It’s that which pushes me too.”

All these photos and reflections will give birth to this album below, made by hand with paper, thread, wire, cloth and, with Luca’s help, a metal incision of tree to represent the roots, new growth and spreading out of her family.

Some final images of Romania, beautiful Oridea…

Romania Part 2: Belonging(s) and Climbing Iris’s Family Tree

WHERE THE ROOTS BEGAN TO FORM

Metallic beetle, Bogdana farm

For the past several weeks, we’ve been chasing Iris’s family history down dusty, unpaved roads in the middle of endless fields and tiny towns with barefoot children, through sips of homemade visinata liquor and ciorba soup, and quiet sobs that bring sad stories of family hardship to an end. Watching Iris juggle her tape recorder in one hand while listening to stories of the past and sifting through old black-and-white photographs of relatives is impressive and touching. We feel lucky to experience it with her.

::::::::::BOGDANA, IRIS’S FATHER’S MOTHER’S FAMILY HOUSE::::::::::

This is the house where Iris’s grandmother Elena, the oldest of 7 siblings, was born and raised. It was Iris’s great-grandparents’ house. We went to visit Iris’s great aunt Doina (the youngest of the siblings) and her husband Mircea, who now live in the house and maintain the land and crops.

Mircea came out with a pitchfork in his hand one day and so Iris decided to recreate the famous painting American Gothic by Grant Wood. This will be one of the photos sewn into her project book.

It was a very peaceful and informative two days at their farm, full of home cooking, rest, walks around the laid-back town of Bogdana, and stories about family and life under the communist regime. The three of us learned a lot about what you could and couldn’t do under communism (this fact comes to mind: couples were forced to have at least 4 kids), the dramatic story of Romanian dictator Ceausescu’s failed flight out of the country and murder along with his wife right at the beginning of the 1989 revolution, and the fact that class and status played a large role in one’s ability to choose career path (some of Iris’s relatives were told not to try to become teachers or engineers because of their parents’ class (”chiaburi“)). We also learned how to grind corn!

::::::::::IASI, CITY OF ART IN HIDDEN CORNERS::::::::::

Staircase of the cathedral

Wall of the Three Hierarchies church, Iasi Palace

Cool Egyptianish griffin made of thousands of tiny objects, Iasi pub

Mystical paintings in the halls of Iasi’s Technical University

Iasi is where Iris’s father Constantin spent most of his childhood and where her grandmother Elena still lives. The second-largest city in Romania, there’s quite a lot going on, although it doesn’t have a big city feel (this is nice). Eastern European cities like Iasi continue to surprise us with the accessibility to wireless internet, something almost unheard of in Italy. Perhaps this is driven by the people’s desire to embrace change in politics and economy, internet being a vehicle for exchange of ideas. For ArtVenture, this is also a positive thing!

Amy and Luca in the clock tower of Iasi Palace

Here in Iasi, Iris has been bouncing back and forth from one relative to the next, trying to get material, photos, recordings, and stories for her project. We have had the pleasure to be hosted by her lovely grandmother Elena, who is quite a character and an endearing, strong woman. One night we flipped the roles and invited Bunica into the camper for an Italian-style dinner!

And here’s Iris with her grandmother (on the right) and great aunt, Lucretia:

Such love behind the eyes; what stories behind every crease and wrinkle. These women are pillars of strength.