Strangest thing I have ever seen . . . a room decorated with the bones of prior friars. No pics were allowed so I bought this postcard of just one of the rooms. Strangest thing I have ever seen.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Bones-not the TV show
Although I was stoked about the finale and totally CALLED it.
Strangest thing I have ever seen . . . a room decorated with the bones of prior friars. No pics were allowed so I bought this postcard of just one of the rooms. Strangest thing I have ever seen.
Strangest thing I have ever seen . . . a room decorated with the bones of prior friars. No pics were allowed so I bought this postcard of just one of the rooms. Strangest thing I have ever seen.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Sistine Chapel
Nicki, I assure you, it is long. One day you can see it too.
The Sistine Chapel. First, let me get this frustration out: I can't understand why people are so extremely disrespectful. It is clearly stressed that silence is to be practiced and pictures are not to be taken within the chapel. Neither of these requests were granted. (Disclaimer: the image you will see is a picture of a postcard and not the actual ceiling). If you don't want to respect what is required of this place then don't come. I can't imagine the effect that it would have if silence was observed. Although, I will be honest, I felt a little weird throughout the entire sojourn. This is the Vatican City. This is the Holy of Holies of Catholicism. This is the place that artist Michelangelo slaved for four years as he tortured himself over his theological depictions. This is where the Pope lives. I am not sure how I would feel about the places I esteem to be Holy being so invaded by those without care. Whatever. Tourism is the country's currency.
That being said, I will move on. The chapel, which is said to be the same measurements as Soloman's temple, originally had a ceiling of blue with gold stars. Michelangelo was given the incomprehensible task of changing that. Michaelangelo's work is all fresco. This means painstaking hours of applying fresh plaster and painting it before it dries. Can you imagine? The ceiling begins with the creation. First we see the separation of light and dark (my favorite part). We see the creation of Adam and the very famous gap between the finger of God and the finger of Adam as God gives and Adam receives the life spark. Then we see the Fall. It then shows the flood and Noah's drunkenness and then something that I didn't get. The part of Noah is to remind us how far man has come because of the Fall, referencing the cursing of Ham and the blessing of Noah's other sons Shem and Japheth.
This all takes place down the center panels of the ceiling. As the ceiling curves down, there are side spaces filled with the names and pictures of the ancestor's of Jesus. Then on the walls are really amazing frescoes by other artists. As one enters the chapel, one is meant to see the walls as parallels of each other. On the right side is the life and prophecy of Moses. On the left is the same of Jesus. The carefully selected scenes of their lives are meant to coincide (for example, although not in the correct order, the tempting of Jesus and the tempting of Moses, the passing of keys to Peter and the passing of authority to Joshua, Jesus giving the law by means of the sermon on the mount and Moses giving the law by carrying the tablets of the Ten Commandments etc.) It was cool.
After all of this, Michelangelo also painted the wall, upon which is one of the most controversial topics of the chapel. The Last Judgement is inexplicable by someone like me, so I will just share a few things. The point of it is to emphasize the balance between justice and mercy. The hundreds of people, both of good and evil people, are to remind us that we are susceptible to evil because of the Fall. Both the righteous and the unrighteous will receive a judgement according to their actions. This is justice. However, the bodies, especially the central and powerful depiction of Christ, shows us the mercy of God by sending his son incarnate to overcome death and save us from our fallen state by the sacrifice of his own body, thus allowing those who repent to avoid the demands of full justice. This is his mercy, deliverance by the blood of His most beloved son.
I just want to share a poem with you written by Michelangelo. Upon studying what I would see in Vatican City, I often found that he was very unwilling to take this commission. He had doubts about the Pope's motives, about his abilities as a painter, about finishing the feat, and about how to show the gospel so that those who didn't understand (because of restricted access to biblical accounts, illiteracy, lack of latin etc.) could take part in comprehension. He was a theologist and an artist that was torn by his understanding of what it meant to be either. It is speculated that there is a self-portrait of Michelangelo on the ceiling. The shocking part is that it is guessed to be the flayed skin held in the hand of St. Bartholemew, who was said to be flayed alive. Let's just say that Michelangelo was a deep dude and to be stuck on a scaffold for 4+ years painting 1200 square meters or more worth of ceiling does something to a person.
The entire world might disagree.
The Sistine Chapel. First, let me get this frustration out: I can't understand why people are so extremely disrespectful. It is clearly stressed that silence is to be practiced and pictures are not to be taken within the chapel. Neither of these requests were granted. (Disclaimer: the image you will see is a picture of a postcard and not the actual ceiling). If you don't want to respect what is required of this place then don't come. I can't imagine the effect that it would have if silence was observed. Although, I will be honest, I felt a little weird throughout the entire sojourn. This is the Vatican City. This is the Holy of Holies of Catholicism. This is the place that artist Michelangelo slaved for four years as he tortured himself over his theological depictions. This is where the Pope lives. I am not sure how I would feel about the places I esteem to be Holy being so invaded by those without care. Whatever. Tourism is the country's currency.
That being said, I will move on. The chapel, which is said to be the same measurements as Soloman's temple, originally had a ceiling of blue with gold stars. Michelangelo was given the incomprehensible task of changing that. Michaelangelo's work is all fresco. This means painstaking hours of applying fresh plaster and painting it before it dries. Can you imagine? The ceiling begins with the creation. First we see the separation of light and dark (my favorite part). We see the creation of Adam and the very famous gap between the finger of God and the finger of Adam as God gives and Adam receives the life spark. Then we see the Fall. It then shows the flood and Noah's drunkenness and then something that I didn't get. The part of Noah is to remind us how far man has come because of the Fall, referencing the cursing of Ham and the blessing of Noah's other sons Shem and Japheth.
This all takes place down the center panels of the ceiling. As the ceiling curves down, there are side spaces filled with the names and pictures of the ancestor's of Jesus. Then on the walls are really amazing frescoes by other artists. As one enters the chapel, one is meant to see the walls as parallels of each other. On the right side is the life and prophecy of Moses. On the left is the same of Jesus. The carefully selected scenes of their lives are meant to coincide (for example, although not in the correct order, the tempting of Jesus and the tempting of Moses, the passing of keys to Peter and the passing of authority to Joshua, Jesus giving the law by means of the sermon on the mount and Moses giving the law by carrying the tablets of the Ten Commandments etc.) It was cool.
After all of this, Michelangelo also painted the wall, upon which is one of the most controversial topics of the chapel. The Last Judgement is inexplicable by someone like me, so I will just share a few things. The point of it is to emphasize the balance between justice and mercy. The hundreds of people, both of good and evil people, are to remind us that we are susceptible to evil because of the Fall. Both the righteous and the unrighteous will receive a judgement according to their actions. This is justice. However, the bodies, especially the central and powerful depiction of Christ, shows us the mercy of God by sending his son incarnate to overcome death and save us from our fallen state by the sacrifice of his own body, thus allowing those who repent to avoid the demands of full justice. This is his mercy, deliverance by the blood of His most beloved son.
I just want to share a poem with you written by Michelangelo. Upon studying what I would see in Vatican City, I often found that he was very unwilling to take this commission. He had doubts about the Pope's motives, about his abilities as a painter, about finishing the feat, and about how to show the gospel so that those who didn't understand (because of restricted access to biblical accounts, illiteracy, lack of latin etc.) could take part in comprehension. He was a theologist and an artist that was torn by his understanding of what it meant to be either. It is speculated that there is a self-portrait of Michelangelo on the ceiling. The shocking part is that it is guessed to be the flayed skin held in the hand of St. Bartholemew, who was said to be flayed alive. Let's just say that Michelangelo was a deep dude and to be stuck on a scaffold for 4+ years painting 1200 square meters or more worth of ceiling does something to a person.
Michelangelo: To Giovanni da Pistoia
"When the Author Was Painting the Vault of the Sistine Chapel"
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@—1509
I've already grown a goiter from this torture,
hunched up here like a cat in Lombardy
(or anywhere else where the stagnant water's poison).
My stomach's squashed under my chin, my beard's
pointing at heaven, my brain's crushed in a casket,
my breast twists like a harpy's. My brush,
above me all the time, dribbles paint
so my face makes a fine floor for droppings!
My haunches are grinding into my guts,
my poor ass strains to work as a counterweight,
every gesture I make is blind and aimless.
My skin hangs loose below me, my spine's
all knotted from folding over itself.
I'm bent taut as a Syrian bow.
Because I'm stuck like this, my thoughts
are crazy, perfidious tripe:
anyone shoots badly through a crooked blowpipe.
My painting is dead.
Defend it for me, Giovanni, protect my honor.
I am not in the right place—I am not a painter.
The entire world might disagree.
The Unmissable
Ok. 105 words to wrap up the Coloseo: No, my story is not real, but some of the things like the different shows, animals, and purposes were all what really happened. The last thing I wanted to share that I found super interesting was something I read online. The Coliseum has become a religious place of gathering because of the belief of many christian martyrs dying there including St. Peter. It is also used as a symbol of attitudes about capitol punishment, abolished in Italy in 1948. It changes the night lights from white to gold when someone's death penalty sentence is lifted, if they are released, or if the penalty is abolished.
Whew. Time to move on to the smallest country I have ever visited (0.6 miles long, 0.5 miles wide): The Vatican City. The city-state has it's own sovereignty, ruled by the elected Pope, of course. Swiss guards, decorated in traditional uniforms that are uncommon for the modern world that surrounds the Holy See, protect the Pope and his home.
I left later in the morning than I had planned, but still within good time. I didn't really have to wait in line (but when I say that I mean I didn't have to join a crowd of people that wrap around the cities walls sometimes all the way to St. Peter's Basilica at the opposite end of the entrance). I didn't realize I would have to go through metal detectors and for a minute I was annoyed because of my history with them. I usually beep from all sorts of things like buttons, bobbi-pins, and under-wire bras (grr). I am usually patted down quickly, but I have heard in Italy they like to be REALLY certain . . .
Fortunately, it was fine.
However, there was still a great discomfort with the amount of people. They have to take pictures of everything! What is the point of enjoying the museum? I did, however, snag a few myself. Needless to say, I was a little stressed out by all the people and the number of times I was polite and let them control the 15 feet of space in front of an artifact to get a picture.
The thing is that there is so much to see and it is so big. Without really taking my time to go through it, it still took over 3 hours. From the Egyptian museum, to the room of animals, to the courtyard, to the hall of tapestries (really huge and really cool), to the frescoes and paintings of Raphael, to the room of statues and the miscellaneous works, to the museum of modern religious art (my second favorite part), to the toilets, and FINALLY, to the Sistine Chapel and beyond I was in awe at the amount of money and dedication it took to create one of the biggest tourist attractions in the entire world.
I am going to try to just pick highlights to share. It is too overwhelming to even try to be creative with the way I tell the journey or every profound thought I had while in it.
The tapestries amazed me. Being a cloth person, I have always been drawn to them when I read books, but I have never seen one. The scenes depicted, like a lot of Catholic art, were a little dark and dreary. I never imagined them to be so big. They went from the floor to the ceiling, which in this particular hallway couldn't have been less than 18 feet.
This one is the bringing of gifts from the Magi.
Just a few rooms before the chapel, there is this fresco by Raphael called The Fire in the Borgo. My audio guide didn't tell me what eavesdropping on the tour guide next to me did. This neighborhood set on fire near St. Peter's Basilica. The people ran to the window and cried for the Pope. He saw the fire and immediately blessed the air and the fire went out. In the left bottom corner we see a man carrying an old man, a woman, and a young child. This is supposed to be "Aeneas carrying his father Anchises from the fires of Troy; it is, therefore, an allusion to the traditional idea that Rome was the new Troy." I love things like that.
I will leave it there for today. I know how some of you have commented on my posts being too lengthy (IT WAS TREVOR IN CASE ANYONE WAS WONDERING- but I agree with him). I will post the Sistine Chapel as a separate piece.
Love you all!
M.Jean
Sunday, May 8, 2011
You Want Me to Get LOUD, I WILL GET LOUD. Don't you mess with me, I AM A MOTHER.
I know I promised more Colloseo but a holiday reminder took priority!
Can anyone name that quote listed as the title? I know one woman who can!
Mother.
So often I think of the many things she gave me.
Not only the wonderful food of home, sweet, home.
Not only the hours of reading Harry Potter, which gave me the animo to love my childhood with an undying zeal.
Not only the sewing lessons that have given my life purpose and joy.
Not only my favorite book, The Count of Monte Cristo.
Not only hours of driving to and from basketball practice and games.
Not only money to develop talents and hobbies.
I could go on forever about what she gave.
But my thoughts tonight are not only amazed at all she gives.
I think of the woman she is.
She is a strength to me.
She believes, she believes, she believes in me.
She is a woman to laugh with.
She is a woman to cry to.
She is compassionate.
She is empathic.
She is spiritual.
She is a mother.
SHE IS MY MOTHER! I love you so much Mommy. You have helped me so much in the most difficult times of my life. I have never questioned the path you have made for me and I am so grateful to be your daughter. I can't express at all what you have meant to me especially during the Italy project. Thanks forever.
I also want to say a quick word to the other amazing mothers I know. Happy Mother's Day Cindy, Susan, Reesa, Caroline, and Barbara! You have raised daughters that have shown me more charity, more laughter, more fun, more love, and more faith than anyone I have ever known. I love your daughters so much and I love the women who taught them.
Happy Mother's day to Jessica, Beckah, and Anna! I love you and think you are great mothers.
Happy Mother's day Ariel, Dove, Grandma M and Grandma B!
Love all of you!
Megan Jean
Can anyone name that quote listed as the title? I know one woman who can!
Mother.
So often I think of the many things she gave me.
Not only the wonderful food of home, sweet, home.
Not only the hours of reading Harry Potter, which gave me the animo to love my childhood with an undying zeal.
Not only the sewing lessons that have given my life purpose and joy.
Not only my favorite book, The Count of Monte Cristo.
Not only hours of driving to and from basketball practice and games.
Not only money to develop talents and hobbies.
I could go on forever about what she gave.
But my thoughts tonight are not only amazed at all she gives.
I think of the woman she is.
She is a strength to me.
She believes, she believes, she believes in me.
She is a woman to laugh with.
She is a woman to cry to.
She is compassionate.
She is empathic.
She is spiritual.
She is a mother.
SHE IS MY MOTHER! I love you so much Mommy. You have helped me so much in the most difficult times of my life. I have never questioned the path you have made for me and I am so grateful to be your daughter. I can't express at all what you have meant to me especially during the Italy project. Thanks forever.
I also want to say a quick word to the other amazing mothers I know. Happy Mother's Day Cindy, Susan, Reesa, Caroline, and Barbara! You have raised daughters that have shown me more charity, more laughter, more fun, more love, and more faith than anyone I have ever known. I love your daughters so much and I love the women who taught them.
Happy Mother's day to Jessica, Beckah, and Anna! I love you and think you are great mothers.
Happy Mother's day Ariel, Dove, Grandma M and Grandma B!
Love all of you!
Megan Jean
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Culture Week=Free Stuff
Unfortunately, I found out about Culture Week as the week was coming to a close. I did, however, get to go see the number one thing on my list FOR FREE! Drumrollllllllllllll
COLOSSUS!
Oh wait. I am confused with a potential baby name of the Dunns (the first Dunns not the second Dunns--which, by the way, do you guys still have my beautiful drawing because maybe we should show that on here to scare people. Tell you what, we will save it for Halloween along with Lindsey's weird hamster pic. Is it too late to apologize?) Let me try again . . .
THE COLOSSEUM!
This is the moment when the guest storyteller steps in. Please darken the lights. Kick back your chairs. And let your minds wander to Ancient Rome. (Disclaimer: What you are about to read contains messages that are irrelevant to actual history and fictitious portrayals of how little the storyteller actually knows about ancient Rome. Please, no flash photography. Any use of this material without written consent is prohibited.)
Once upon a time there was a foreigner in Rome named Guinevere (not to be confused with Arthur's adulterous wife).
As a beauty of fair hair and skin, her charms were much sought after and valued. She walked not one meter without hearing "Ciao Bella" (Bella=beautiful, not to be confused with the Twilight twit). Ergo, it went without surprise that she was invited to the colossal venue for a show.
Unfortunately for her hosts, she was both a human-rights and an animal-rights activist. Neither the inviters nor the invited knew of the extreme disapproval that was about to unfold.
She looked below and saw a huge wooden floor.
Underneath was a world of tunnels and trapdoors for both man and beast.
The "show" began with a depiction of a recent Roman conquest upon the high seas. As weapons flew through the air, she saw actual blood fall to the ground. Her eyes grew in horror when she saw men, women, and children cheering, or worse: yawning. She was a polite guest, but she could not watch, instead she let her eyes glaze over.
Then came the hunts. Animals, starved and beaten, were let loose in strategic areas. Man hunted beast. Beast hunted man. Guinivere held herself together until one animal entered, and she could take no more. Her love, the elephant, girded in materials embedded with spikes and other weapons entered the scene.
She flew to the top of the Colosseum and looked out at the crowd of 50,000 below.
(in truth, this was just a hair check photo, turned out a little epic so I kept it.)
"OH THE HUMANITY! YE FIENDS OF THE BLOODTHIRSTY AND LOWEST IN-HABITATIONS OF THE EARTH. HAVE YE NO SHAME? THE ELEPHANT SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO BE BIG AND EAT WITHOUT FEAR OF BEING BROUGHT INTO THIS AREA POLLUTED WITH THE EXISTENCE OF THEY WHO HAVE NO CONSCIENCE! AND IF THE ELEPHANT HAS THAT RIGHT, SO DO ALL ANIMALS. AND IF THAT IS SO, THEN SO DO ALL MEN."
Her activism went unheard and they moved from hunts to gladiator fights. Men, prisoners or souls unfavored by the fates, fought for the upper hand in combat as to avoid the thumbs up or thumbs down of the emperor when defeated. Guinivere shook as she watched, still maintaining her lofty perch.
Guinivere was actually from Atlantis, so if you saw that cartoon with the voice of Michael J. Fox you KNOW that those people have special powers. She called upon the juju within her, and drew lightening from the sky. A fire started and shrieks began. The damage to the animals and men below invoked no horror, but damage to the beloved arena sent chills down the stretch of back where a spine should have been inside senators, citizens, and entrepreneurs who benefited from the games. She could not reach them with words, but all made an exit that day and for a time things were put to rest.
As for our heroine, she released the animals and rode away from Rome on the back of the elephant. No Roman ever saw her again, but admirers and intellectuals built a statue of her. But soon even they couldn't continue the story to convince others of her words. Story turned to legend. Legend turned to myth. Myth turned to dim memory that left only a crumbling, unnamed statue.
A small opinion-based follow up will continue tomorrow. Do not fear this lengthy post. Tomorrow's will be nothing but simple. The two previous statements may also be fictitious. Decide for yourself which of the above was fact and which was fiction.
COLOSSUS!
Oh wait. I am confused with a potential baby name of the Dunns (the first Dunns not the second Dunns--which, by the way, do you guys still have my beautiful drawing because maybe we should show that on here to scare people. Tell you what, we will save it for Halloween along with Lindsey's weird hamster pic. Is it too late to apologize?) Let me try again . . .
THE COLOSSEUM!
This is the moment when the guest storyteller steps in. Please darken the lights. Kick back your chairs. And let your minds wander to Ancient Rome. (Disclaimer: What you are about to read contains messages that are irrelevant to actual history and fictitious portrayals of how little the storyteller actually knows about ancient Rome. Please, no flash photography. Any use of this material without written consent is prohibited.)
Once upon a time there was a foreigner in Rome named Guinevere (not to be confused with Arthur's adulterous wife).
As a beauty of fair hair and skin, her charms were much sought after and valued. She walked not one meter without hearing "Ciao Bella" (Bella=beautiful, not to be confused with the Twilight twit). Ergo, it went without surprise that she was invited to the colossal venue for a show.
Unfortunately for her hosts, she was both a human-rights and an animal-rights activist. Neither the inviters nor the invited knew of the extreme disapproval that was about to unfold.
She looked below and saw a huge wooden floor.
Underneath was a world of tunnels and trapdoors for both man and beast.
The "show" began with a depiction of a recent Roman conquest upon the high seas. As weapons flew through the air, she saw actual blood fall to the ground. Her eyes grew in horror when she saw men, women, and children cheering, or worse: yawning. She was a polite guest, but she could not watch, instead she let her eyes glaze over.Then came the hunts. Animals, starved and beaten, were let loose in strategic areas. Man hunted beast. Beast hunted man. Guinivere held herself together until one animal entered, and she could take no more. Her love, the elephant, girded in materials embedded with spikes and other weapons entered the scene.
She flew to the top of the Colosseum and looked out at the crowd of 50,000 below.
(in truth, this was just a hair check photo, turned out a little epic so I kept it.)"OH THE HUMANITY! YE FIENDS OF THE BLOODTHIRSTY AND LOWEST IN-HABITATIONS OF THE EARTH. HAVE YE NO SHAME? THE ELEPHANT SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO BE BIG AND EAT WITHOUT FEAR OF BEING BROUGHT INTO THIS AREA POLLUTED WITH THE EXISTENCE OF THEY WHO HAVE NO CONSCIENCE! AND IF THE ELEPHANT HAS THAT RIGHT, SO DO ALL ANIMALS. AND IF THAT IS SO, THEN SO DO ALL MEN."
Her activism went unheard and they moved from hunts to gladiator fights. Men, prisoners or souls unfavored by the fates, fought for the upper hand in combat as to avoid the thumbs up or thumbs down of the emperor when defeated. Guinivere shook as she watched, still maintaining her lofty perch.
Guinivere was actually from Atlantis, so if you saw that cartoon with the voice of Michael J. Fox you KNOW that those people have special powers. She called upon the juju within her, and drew lightening from the sky. A fire started and shrieks began. The damage to the animals and men below invoked no horror, but damage to the beloved arena sent chills down the stretch of back where a spine should have been inside senators, citizens, and entrepreneurs who benefited from the games. She could not reach them with words, but all made an exit that day and for a time things were put to rest.As for our heroine, she released the animals and rode away from Rome on the back of the elephant. No Roman ever saw her again, but admirers and intellectuals built a statue of her. But soon even they couldn't continue the story to convince others of her words. Story turned to legend. Legend turned to myth. Myth turned to dim memory that left only a crumbling, unnamed statue.
A small opinion-based follow up will continue tomorrow. Do not fear this lengthy post. Tomorrow's will be nothing but simple. The two previous statements may also be fictitious. Decide for yourself which of the above was fact and which was fiction.
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