arzigogolare ~ to let your mind wander

A New Year...

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:15:45 +0100

Happy 2012! I can’t believe we are already on the ‘other side’ again, with days growing longer and reaching toward spring (while trying to stay warm on these mostly sunny days but near-freezing nights!). I hope that the year has begun well for everyone.

Last month I had explained that, while the tree has always been my favorite tangible symbol of Christmas, we were planning an alternative: to create our ‘tree’ with tissue paper ‘pom poms’. In all honesty, though I loved the concept in theory, I didn’t feel so sure about how it would work out. I wasn’t worried about the poms themselves (we had learned to make them earlier in the year), but it was hard to judge how big they should be, how many we would need—not to mention what form the structure would take.

After finding that we could each make about four in one hour, and calculating that we would need about thirty-five, we saw before us a very long/late evening of pom-making . . . and not much else! But once my daughter climbed up onto the table and started hanging the first ones (she insisted on doing it since I had sprained my wrist after falling off the studio table last October), we were thrilled to see that a mere ten gave the illusion we were after. Unfortunately they are very difficult to photograph . . . the image I’ve chosen for this entry was taken from below, looking up toward the ceiling, and I Photoshopped it into my favorite Christmas colors since the natural lighting is less than ideal at this time of year. It wasn’t easy finding the colors of tissue I had in mind—each one has at least two colors, ranging from a mix of reds to fuchsia, purple, olive green & ‘regular’ green—but they actually came together really well in the end (just as my daughter told me they would!). The sheer gold organza tree ‘skirt’ that had symbolized ‘under the ‘tree’ during the holidays has been put away, but the poms are still dangling, twirling slowly en masse at the center of the living room.

So, it’s true that we did not have the wonderful scent of a fresh pine tree, but we did find fragrant paperwhites, which I just love, and our gingerbread cookies filled the house with the smell of Christmas. I imagine that most of you have had your fill of gingerbread for the time being, but I will share the new recipe we found in time for the next holiday season. Somehow the whole cookie-making process, just like the poms, seemed so much simpler than what we had anticipated (which is not usually my experience with making anything, whether in the kitchen or the studio). We also enjoyed the hot spiced cider we had been waiting for, only with pear juice instead of apple; apple juice is not that easy to find here, although soon I expect that bottles filled with the ‘first pressing’ will return to our local grocery store, where the selection is nearly as seasonal as the produce shops/markets.

In my last entry I had noted that Arzigogolare would be migrating to a more official ‘blog’ space this year. It can now be found HERE. I am still learning how to make the most of the Blogger platform, and it feels very bare with only a couple of posts, but I think ultimately it will be a better place/way for people to follow my creative journey and stay updated on PaperSynthesis. I am in the process of beginning several new projects, and look forward to introducing and documenting them on the new ‘blog’. (I must admit I don’t care for the word ‘blog’—and this may be yet another reason I have resisted joining the proper blogosphere—but it should be simpler to share the inspiration I find out there, as well as creating a place where everyone can participate/interact/connect more easily.

I am back in the studio again this week, after taking a delightful break during my daughter’s vacation. I spent a lot of time dipping into a huge pile of new books I got for Christmas (ranging from one on the art of collage and another on the art of maps, to others about exploring/writing poetry, working with beads/wire, running a small business and so on). I will be introducing more items in the shop once I finish filling post-holiday orders.

Happy January! I hope to see you over at the new ‘Arzigogolare’.

*****

For photos of the original poms that inspired ours,
please have a look in this etsy shop, where the owner
makes them in all shapes, sizes and colors.

First day of winter

Thu, 22 Dec 2011 06:30:20 +0100

At 6:30 am local time, Florence officially entered winter. It’s a beautiful day, and it looks as though we will get the benefit of every drop of light possible on this shortest day of the year. We have been so fortunate with the weather in the past couple of months that the transition from autumn to winter has been much easier to bear. And all month long, the holiday lights that decorate the city have drawn us willingly into the ever-earlier dusk.

When the winter solstice rolls around each year, I always think of the first one we spent in this apartment, six years ago. I bundled together fifty white taper candles with a ribbon to serve as the centerpiece for our evening meal. Unfortunately, I had underestimated the intensity of their combined heat: the fifty flames joined forces, fusing the candles into a single mass almost instantly. In a matter of seconds, the wax began flowing all over the table, then dripping on to the rug, before we managed to extinguish the flames! Tonight will, I hope, be less dramatic: after doing a bit of Christmas shopping, my daughter and I will light dozens of well- spread-out candles to celebrate the winter solstice—though I suppose last night was technically the longest night of the year. (As usual, we are ‘behind’ with our ideal to-do list, but there are, after all, twelve days of Christmas: the twenty-fifth is only the first . . .)

This holiday season has been relatively stress-free when I think back on past years. This may have something to do with the more immediate need to simply get the house in order/reorganize the studio after a very intense last few months. In any case, the idea of taking advantage of all twelve days of Christmas suits me just fine. We only just opened the Christmas trunk this week. Slowly, the decorations and lights are going up, but as of yet there is no sign of a tree.

The tree has always been my favorite tangible symbol of Christmas, but it’s not easy lugging one home on foot, and up the fifty-five steps to our apartment. To make the most of it, we usually keep the tree on display until February or March (removing the ornaments, but leaving the lights)! Still, I always feel guilty when it comes time to dispose of a tree that has taken years to grow. The trunk of the tree from two years ago has been in our ‘attic’ all this time, and will likely meet the same fate as last year’s (which I sawed into firewood to burn in my parents’ fireplace in Montepulciano this winter).

And so, this year we’ve decided to spend Christmas Eve creating a different kind of tree, made from tissue paper ‘pom poms’; the poms will be suspended from the ceiling, arranged to form the shape of a traditional tree. (This alternative seems quite fitting after having opened a paper-centric business this year.) The pine scent is one of the best things about a fresh Christmas tree, but between the hot spiced cider, fragrant paperwhites and gingerbread cookies, the house should be redolent with Christmas cheer. . . there’s nothing like opening the spice box and breathing in the wonderfully spicy scents of cinnamon, cardamom, ginger & cloves.

Wherever you are, may your holidays be filled with warmth and light and good smells. Thank you for joining me and following the progress of my various projects during the past twelve months. I wish you all much joy in the upcoming year . . .

~ One final note ~
Arzigogolare will be migrating to a more official ‘blog’ space in 2012; I will post details here/on my homepage in the New Year. I’m also looking forward to introducing more items in the PaperSynthesis shop. (Incidentally, today is the last day to order electronic gift cards to be sent in time for the holidays, though I can accommodate a limited number on Friday if need be.)

***

The photo shows La Rinascente department store completely decked out in lights; some of them flash, making this particular corner of Piazza della Repubblica quite a sight to behold!

Holiday Lights/Shop Update

Tue, 6 Dec 2011 23:45:54 +0100

I mentioned in my last entry that the Christmas lights are regarded as a barometer for Florence’s economic state—and that it must have been a good year if there’s any truth to the saying. But now that all of the lights and decorations are up and lit, and the season is officially in swing, I have to add that I have never seen Florence looking so festive. My daughter and I could only gawk when we entered Piazza della Repubblica and saw La Rinascente last night (this is the same department store with the inspiring window displays I wrote about here & here).

Except for the neoclassic windows, which were neatly left free, the upper stories of La Rinascente’s two visible façades are completely covered with lights. Along with the brightly lit carousel spinning in one corner, and the decorations on the historic cafés, the piazza certainly feels more welcoming at the moment. (In The Piazzas of Florence I had explained that Piazza della Repubblica lacks the character that’s typical of Florence’s other squares since it’s rather bland from an architectural standpoint. Despite this fact, a lot of people do seem to name it as their favorite.)

I must admit that I prefer the simpler strands of lights that are draped overhead at intervals, creating a glowing ‘ceiling’ of sorts over the streets . . . this season, as we return home after visiting the center, we will be able to enjoy nearly a continuous kilometer of many different kinds of lights leading us into the piazza where we live. Still, I can’t help but admire La Rinascente’s audaciousness this year!

* * * * *

And another update on PaperSynthesis . . .

I would like to thank everyone for their patience as I finalized the details for the new PaperSynthesis shop; it can now be found at this link. I imagine I will be continuing to tweak the text/ formatting, as well as adding more photos and figuring out other ways to customize/improve the shop, but it is fully up and running, and should simplify the process of placing orders. Not much time remains until the holiday ordering cut-off dates (there’s a special page devoted to this: ‘Holiday2011’), but gift cards can offer a bit more flexibility and stretch the ordering period out a little longer if need be.

Once again, happy holidays to everyone!

December 2011

Thu, 1 Dec 2011 18:00:22 +0100

Here we are, already at the beginning of the final month of 2011. I love how Florence is always so festive during the holiday season, with lights strung across many of the streets and decorations brightening up the shop windows. (They always say you can judge how well the city is doing based on the Christmas lights; if this is true, it must have been a good year!) With darkness falling early, every pool of light, whether from a café or a restaurant, an apartment or a church, looks so cozy and inviting.

Thank you to those of you who followed my daily ‘calendar’ last month. As you will have noted, I’m still continuing to work out details for PaperSynthesis (my new online shop). It should finally be opening in a formal online ‘venue’ within a few days.

I wish I had the time to continue with the ‘calendar’ concept again this month, but I’ll be focusing my energy on PaperSynthesis for the next few weeks. I do hope to begin something similar again in the New Year. In the meanwhile, happy holidays to everyone!

November 2011

Tue, 1 Nov 2011 12:00:52 +0100

The colorful leaves may be falling, but autumn tones are still brightening up the markets: there are clementines, plums, persimmons, pomegranates, squash, pumpkins & plenty of dark leafy greens. And it’s time to start making soups and stews again . . .

Last month I introduced PaperSynthesis, my new online shop. Thank you to those of you who followed its progress. I still need to work out some details (and add more photos of several of the items); these will be appearing in the upcoming weeks. The shop will also be migrating to a site with an easier ordering interface, most likely some time this month. (You can sign up to be notified if you like.)

I liked the calendar as an organizational tool for the shop’s introductory line, and have decided to continue with another calendar of sorts for November. Each day I will post something new. It might be a link to an inspiring website, the name of a book, a photo, a recipe or an update for the PaperSynthesis shop. There are so many things I’ve been wanting to share and write about, and this will be the place you’ll find them. Please click HERE to have a look.

PaperSynthesis

Sat, 1 Oct 2011 15:00:42 +0200

On this lovely Indian Summer day, I am finally ready to announce the opening of my new online shop, PaperSynthesis. While it is still a work in progress, I’d like to invite you to watch the shop unfolding over the course of the next month. One item will be unveiled each day of October—there will be hand-bound blank books, sets of postcards, prints of my photographs & oil paintings, collages & calendars.

Please visit:
PaperSynthesis
for a preview.

Summer 2011

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 16:15:54 +0200

September 14. The date appears automatically as I begin this entry, shocking me with the realization of just how far along in the year we have already come. Slipping almost incidentally into this still blissfully-summery week, the first day of school today has launched the students into another school year. While I feel unsettled by how much shorter the days already seem—and how much lower the sun’s passage through the sky has become—autumn does bring some undeniable benefits: a chance for a fresh start and the comforting return to routine.

It’s hard to let go of summer though, especially one that has been so wonderful. As the weeks passed I would often find myself writing Arzigogolare entries in my head and planning which photos I would share. But things kept happening—a family wedding, visitors, travels, a deadline for a new artist book. And so the summer passed; I’m sure I’ve noted before how sometimes you are too busy simply doing to pause and reflect on it all.

I may still get around to recording the experiences/images that impressed me most over the past few months, but for now I would love to share the recipes for the dishes we made at a cooking class I organized during my sister’s wedding week celebration in Lucca. Please click here for the recipes.

I hope you have had a wonderful summer (or, for those south of the equator, that you are ready to welcome spring) . . .

May/June 2011

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 17:22:06 +0200

Summer is in full swing . . . fragrant with blooms and bountiful produce, inspiring outdoor living and lemonade, bringing visitors and vacations. Florence is hot and crowded, but a quiet garden just outside the center has offered a welcome escape from the intensity of the city. Please click here to read about it in my May/June entry.

April 2011

Sat, 30 Apr 2011 12:00:02 +0200

From now on I will be creating my monthly Arzigogolare entry a bit differently. (I learned that people who accessed it via the rss feed were often not aware of all of the images and extra writings, as they can only be seen by visiting my actual website—and, depending on the browser, it wasn’t always clear how to get to the page.) Please access the April entry via this link. Thank you!

~ Lisa

March 2011

Tue, 1 Mar 2011 00:00:45 +0100

The creative process often―and ideally, I think―evolves in an organic way. I always enjoy getting caught up in this process, when a single idea or word or image leads me along an unexpected path. This happened recently with a series of photos that ended up echoing the colors of the Italian flag. The green, white and red theme might seem to be consciously (or even subconsciously) responding to the fact that Florence has been decked out in the patriotic trio as Italy marks the 150th anniversary of its unification this March, but in fact the inspiration came from a long‧time desire to write about strawberries.
It all began a few years ago, when I photographed a bowl of strawberries intended to accompany an Arzigogolare entry inspired by a passage in architect Christopher Alexander’s A Timeless Way of Building. But other topics kept coming up, so it remained at the back of my mind, unwritten. Still, each time winter gives way to spring, when containers of strawberries appear at the produce stands, the wish to share the excerpt from Alexander’s book returns.
Besides architecture, Alexander’s educational background also includes physics, chemistry and mathematics. He has worked as a professor, researcher, builder and writer, and is probably best known for A Pattern Language, a book proposing 253 interconnected patterns that can be used to create a more personal, human quality of life in the spaces we inhabit. They begin at the regional level and progress to that of towns, neighborhoods, building complexes and homes. In the Piazza della Repubblica chapter of The Piazzas of Florence, I touched briefly on how the patterns I regularly encounter in Florence contribute to the enjoyment of living here ... Small Public Squares, High Places, Connected Buildings, Four‧Story Limit, Corner Groceries, Individually Owned Shops, Windows Overlooking Life and others.
While A Pattern Language offers readers the nuts and bolts of designing/building towns and buildings which are alive, A Timeless Way of Building conveys the theory behind the pattern language. Across 549 pages, Alexander introduces and explores what he calls ‘the quality without a name’, which he believes is essential to good design. The book’s organic, slowly unfolding, presentation mirrors the nature of the quality itself, which can only evolve over time, in the most natural way possible. The (well illustrated) premise is that implementing the patterns will allow this quality to exist, thus leading to an ultimately more livable environment.
Perhaps it seems counterintuitive that something as technical or fabricated as a pattern would create more natural, human spaces, but they are endlessly adaptable―and of course nature is full of patterns. The pattern language is really about that which we instinctively find comforting... structures designed to follow social spaces (not the other way around), rooms with windows on at least two walls, ceiling heights that vary according to a room’s level of intimacy, south facing outdoor spaces (or north if you live in the southern hemisphere), a sunny counter in the kitchen, cozy pools of light (as opposed to uniform fluorescent lighting), an entrance transition that aids the mental transition into the realm of home. Alexander believes these patterns are intuitive, only that we have lost touch with them.
I agree with much of Alexander’s philosophy (and could easily continue this train of thought), but that is perhaps enough ‘arzigogolando’ about this for the moment. Time to return to the strawberries ... and the passage I wanted to share. In the last chapter of A Timeless Way of Building, after discussing the benefits of taking cues from nature, Alexander concludes that, “To act as nature does is the most ordinary thing in the world. It is as ordinary as the act of slicing strawberries.” He then tells this story:

One of the most moving moments in my life, was also one of the most ordinary. I was
with a friend in Denmark. We were having strawberries for tea, and I noticed that she sliced
the strawberries very very fine, almost like paper. Of course, it took longer than usual, and I
asked her why she did it. When you eat a strawberry, she said, the taste of it comes from the
open surfaces you touch. The more surfaces there are, the more it tastes. The finer I slice the
strawberries, the more surfaces there are.

He goes on to say that his friend’s whole life was like that― ordinary, yet each thing done fully―and that her strawberry observa-tions taught him more about building than ten years of practice had. It may seem like a leap if you aren’t familiar with the book (or aren’t on the same page with him), but I find it easy to understand why Alexander considers this such an ‘Aha’ moment... this choosing of qualitative over quantitative factors can so deeply and positively affect the different areas of our lives. Yet, so much of the world is moving ever faster and further from the rhythms of nature, with the bottom line taking precedence at the expense of quality. Although the slower‧than‧average pace of my personal clock often meets with criticism, I continue to value the importance of taking the time to slice our strawberries finely, both literally and metaphorically. And I suppose I still hold hope that this inclination will somehow reconcile with the ever present need to ‘keep up’.

* * * * *

In the end, I didn’t post one of the original strawberry photos I’d meant to accompany Alexander’s story―they’re buried somewhere on my old computer, so it seemed easier to photograph the berries I had on hand. I enjoyed the process of composing the new shots, and experi-menting with the styling. The ultimate choice of a white china cup placed on a plain sheet of Fabriano drawing paper resulted in a very different kind of image than I had taken a couple of springs ago. As I had noted in The Beauty of a Shadow, shadows can inspire all sorts of reflections, so once I settled on the plain white background I was delighted to discover the symmetrical shadows wiggling on either side of the handleless cup. The reflected ‘halo’ caused by the sunlight, which only appeared after removing the saucer that had initially been part of the composition, was another nice surprise.
The outcome of the strawberry images influenced other photos too. I had planned to record the vibrant orange, yellow, red and purple blooms of the ranunculus plants that I’d found at this month’s flea market in Piazza Santo Spirito, but ended up deciding to focus on the red ranunculus (thus repeating the simplicity of the strawberry composition and capturing green, white and red as the central colors).
Again, I found an unexpected element as I composed the photo―the shadows of the buds, flowers and stems interested me as much as the flowers themselves. And I was reminded of the joy of the creative process―how, by simply committing to the process, you often find yourself enjoying an inspired journey of sorts.
The relative starkness of the green, white and red photos that I’ve mentioned (examples of which are posted at the top of the page*) is a departure from the multicolored layers and patterns I usually favor. I decided to follow this new direction and try concentrating on white, so next I photographed the white‧on‧white tissue paper pompoms that my daughter and I had made as practice for my sister’s upcoming wedding. Their concentrically layered forms seemed conducive to interacting with light, and resulted in a nice interplay of shadows. Each set I took revealed different effects of light and shadow, and I found myself wishing I could superimpose the many variations to create a single image. (A project for another day perhaps.)

* * * * *

Now that warm weather is here to stay, strawberries have become abun-dantly available (though their specialness hasn’t diminished). Florence has embraced the new season, with that one hour gladly sacrificed last weekend in exchange for evenings that feel luxuriously long. In the mornings, the streets echo with teachers urging, ‘Andiamo, ragazzi, andiamo!’ (Let’s go, kids, let’s go!), as they herd spirited groups of school children on field trips. Many apartment and shop windows have been patriotically decorated this month, but spring colors and signs of Easter are starting to bring fresh life to the city now.

May this new season, whether spring or autumn
in your part of the world, be a happy one.

* If you accessed this entry via an RSS feed, the rest of the images, links & notes are not visible. You can view the full entry for posts dating back to 8 November 2010 via my website. To get there, try clicking on the date at the beginning of this entry (or possibly an arrow next to the date; it depends on your computer/browser), or go to my homepage, click on ‘Arzigogolare’, and you’ll see the last several entries listed there.

February 2011

Tue, 1 Feb 2011 00:00:50 +0100

February arrived to the tune of blue skies and plenty of sunshine... already, spring feels like it’s on the way. It looks as though the windowsill herbs just might make it through the winter: tiny new leaves have begun emerging along the remaining stems. And birds can be heard singing after months of silence. It’s reassuring to know that this part of the world is reawakening.
After consuming I don’t know how many kilos of clementines, their season is drawing to a close, and mandarini and tarocchi (a type of red orange) are taking their place. What sweet, vibrantly-colored juice they make, and the large ones with their leaves still intact are a wonderful treat to eat a section at a time.
As I waited for the coffee to brew this morning, I noticed the sun catching the curved ends of the roof tiles - a phenomenon that only happens for a brief period on opposite ends of the calendar. And I realized why long strings of grey, rainy days become so tiresome: we don’t get to witness the usual transformation of a day. I enjoy watching the city waking up... how it continues to change as the hands on the clock spin forward, until the sun’s gentle leaving gives way to twilight at day’s end. On a gray day, lost is the opportunity to take part in the mass photo shoot happening at the center of Ponte Vecchio. There’s no jostling for elbow room, cameras pointed westward, trying to capture the watercolored sky

reflected on the water. And when the stars don’t appear, I miss the familiar patterns rotating like a giant nighttime clock, and the moon tracing its arc. Without the sun and the moon and the stars, I seem to lose my bearings.
Even though temperatures are plenty cold these days (between zero and ten Celsius), Pitti ‘Beach’ is back in business. The long shadows of figures strolling through on their way to the palace and gardens now pause a while on the sun-lit expanse of the sloped square in the afternoons. The sun is reaching into corners of the city left dark for months and brightening up our apartment (reminding me to wash the windows). I find myself mesmerized by the galaxy of shimmering dust motes...it’s been so long since I’ve noticed them.
The sun also makes my work easier; it helps immeasurably when doing precise work with rulers and X-Acto knives, and natural light has been necessary for a series of photos I’ve been taking lately. The sun’s presence noticeably brings more energy to my work - I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of inspiration and plans, and my journal these days is brimming with ideas to develop. After walking through Florence, noting how the sun highlights the stone, enhances the river, and just generally bring the city into relief, I return with notes scribbled in my purse-sized notebook (or on my hand if I’ve forgotten it), and a host of new photos to upload. We seem to be living in a glorious palette of color after a season of monochrome.

Once again this month, I have included links to items or websites I’ve come across (all along the right-hand section of the page). I’m always fascinated by how researching one tiny fact can lead to dozens of open tabs on Firefox. I also enjoy indulging in following the links on websites by creative individuals - the virtual-world equivalent of arzigogolando (the gerund form of arzigogolare, i.e. letting one’s mind wander),
Projects and the daily details of living fill most of my hours, so I read far too little lately. But this morning I spent some time enjoying ‘Tuscany and Umbria’, a book sent to me by author Barrie Kerper. (She included a lovely interview with me in the latest edition, released under the Vintage Departures imprint of Random House last summer.) It’s one of several of The Collected Traveler titles. These annotated collections of destination-based articles are complemented by suggestions for books to read, restaurants and shops to check out, and tips on local customs and culture - and are a great way to get a flavor for the places featured, from Paris to Istanbul, Athens, Morocco and others.
Barrie also has a blog that serves as a natural extension and enrichment of her books. In a departure from the usual travel-related focus, her 14 February entry explores a book whose enticing title, ‘A Perfectly Kept House is the Sign of a Misspent Life,’ struck a chord with her. And she found that the fulfillment of the

promise made by the subtitle, ‘How to live creatively with collections, clutter, work, kids, pets, art, etc...and stop worrying about everything being perfectly in its place,’ more than met her expectations. Barrie’s review has inspired me to add the title to my bookshelf as well. I’m looking forward to seeing how the featured artists manage the inevitable spilling over of their passions, interests and creativity.
Why shouldn’t that which we use daily compose the landscape of our homes? I love being surrounded by papers and books, art materials and drafting tools, and see chaos as a necessary freedom in a creative life, especially when I’m immersed in the throes of a project. Yet I do appreciate - and am constantly striving for - an underlying sense of order. Since I’m always looking for ways to carve out more time for creative work, I experience a continual tug of war with the whole cleaning issue; given a choice, I would always choose working in the studio over organizing or cleaning. These can be welcome activities when the production aspects of a project are proving to be a challenge though. Unlike design work or writing - processes which can make the hours pass in the blink of an eye - home care is a reliable way to get a tangible result in a finite amount of time. This also applies to cooking, so difficulties in solving design or writing-related problems often send me to the kitchen, where I can be creative without pressure.

On that note, I’ll leave you with a favorite recipe that’s evolved over the years (loosely interpreted from one by Marcella Hazaan). The pork loin is cooked on the stove, on the lowest heat possible, for three or four hours, until it’s deliciously, falling-apart, tender.

January 2011

Sat, 1 Jan 2011 12:00:01 +0100

Happy 2011! I am happy to be on this side of the calendar
again ... nearly a whole year stretches out ahead of us, with strings of days that will continue to grow longer and more filled with light over the next several months. If I had to dedicate a word to the month of January it would be ‘possibility’, for that is what a new year always seems to hold.
While I’m behind in posting again this month (getting my online shop ready has turned out to take much more time and energy than I had expected), I have been keeping a file of inspiration as I come across websites, read books, experiment with art materials and try recipes. More to come in February...