A deep sigh
view of the Alps from my makeshift studio
It is hard to describe the deep peace and inner quiet upon arriving at the Rural Residency for Contemporary Art (RUC) in Cividate Comuno, Italy. After the never ending art to see at the Venice Biennale along with all the other things to see in Venice, it was a gift to step into the fresh country air and just be. No schedule. No list of things to see or do. Just outside my bedroom window I watch the Alps shift moment by moment as cloud and light, rain and shadow, play across their awe-inspiring peaks and crevices.
The road, in the valley below, hums and rattles with energy and business — an insistent reminder to revel now in this hard won but temporary peace. The breeze gentle upon my face; birds, crickets and church bells rising and falling around me.
fresh figs from the garden
The residency coordinator, Eckehard, picks fresh figs from the garden and I bite into their delicious flesh with a sense of wonder as I sketch the Alps before us. Later, he collects figs, apricots, and many kinds of berries to bake into a delicious tarte, mixing the tarte crust directly on the kitchen table. Rich aromatic espresso greets me every morning; locally made sausage, and home grown vegetables are part of our daily meals… abundance everywhere I look. The braying of donkeys calling in the night, dogs barking, and children shrieking as they run partially clothed through the tangled laundry lines behind the house.
Layers of history
petroglyphs at National Park of Rock Engravings of Naquane
The house has been passed down through generations, built by the residency director, Giulia’s great grandfather. The history of this home and its occupants include stories of love and struggle, indissolubly intertwined with events and experiences throughout the Italian Resistance against Fascism during WW II. Giulia's grandmother walked for hours each day to bring food and news of the occupation to her fiancé and other resisters hiding in the mountains. By night she distributed anti-fascist pamphlets to the villagers. The stories steeped within the house’s walls and through its people are rich, individual and collective, now added to by each artist who works here. I feel the layers of this history.
I walk down to the ruins of an ancient Roman amphitheater in the town below. In the next town over I visit petroglyphs dating from over 8000 years ago. Their images resonate with me, evidence of the urgent need of humans to express themselves, share their stories, and make their mark for future generations.
“I feel the layers of this history.”
medieval iron forge hammer
Church of the Annunciation
I hike over our mountain to explore the medieval village of Bienno. Huge iron gates are carved within stone, once upon a time ready to be closed against ferocious marauders. Outside, icy water runs from faucets into basins scattered throughout the local villages…fresh spring water for passersby to drink, wipe their face or fill their bottle. Cobblestone streets meander up and down narrow passages. A still-operating medieval water-powered iron forge fascinates me with its massive Iron working hammer. A leather shop beckons, and through mixed Spanish, English and Italian, hand gestures, and smiles, I learn about the owner’s methods, tools (I always love tools) and materials used to create beautiful one-of-a-kind pieces. Giddy with excitement I commission a leather portfolio for paper and pencils; choosing the leather, the stitching and working with him to create an object of beauty. I climb to a medieval crumbling church perched at the edge of a steep drop, whose partial wall still stands. Hike to the Cristo Re aka “gold Jesus” rising several stories, shimmering in the bright light, massive and gaudy, a direct counterpoint to a beautiful and sober ancient chapel, the contrast startling and unsettling. In the Church of the Annunciation, frescoes from the 1500’s are still alive on the walls, a deep, quiet cool within. In the crook of an old pine tree, I find a bird’s nest with multicolor feathers woven within, a gift I gratefully accept.
Adding to the layers
sketching at RUC
view out my bedroom window
I read and write in a journal, compelled to capture the essence of what I am experiencing while knowing that the sensations are fleeting, wordless, sensory-laden but untouchable through time. I stitch together teabags used during my stay at RUC, create miniature thread paintings of the Alps. I experiment with cyanotype chemicals left behind by a previous resident, sketch the shifting mountains before me in pencil and watercolor. I think about how many thousands of years humans have endeavored to capture in words, music, movement, art…the world and its stories in all its beauty and ferocity. Those same yearnings within me are part of an infinite line stretching from the distant past to beyond me, yearnings to communicate, to touch, to understand and be understood.
Floor length windows open to the night air, I Iie in bed, room darkened, while the day’s heat is chased from the room’s corners by a steady and cool breeze. In the distance, rumbles of thunder and lightning split the night into sound and silence, dark and light. There is a sense of timelessness in this place, and already I know I want to return, but next time for a much longer stay.
Learn more about the Crit Lab Residency program developed by Patricia Miranda.
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