Spain

You never know who you’ll meet in a gallery…

This morning I downloaded all of my weekly podcasts for this week, and in the afternoon, while in the jacuzzi at the gym (which provides the perfect environment for a soak, a sweat, and a listen-to of all of my ~30 minute New Yorker Fiction podcasts) I heard something that so strikingly paralleled my novella, Degrees of Freedom, I couldn’t help but crank up the iPod. Chang-Rae Lee (author of “Daisy”) read Don DeLillo’s “Baader-Meinhof” or, in English, “Art and Terror” and discussed it with The New Yorkers fiction editor, Deborah Treisman. (Right-click here to download).

Theme, theme, theme. This is what Degrees of Freedom and “Baader-Meinhof” have in common. They both chronicle the chance meeting of a man and a woman in an art gallery; the woman sitting there staring at an art piece; the man sauntering in; both of them wondering about the other; both sizing up the other; both challenging each other to assess the paintings, and life, and everything else, even death…

But the relationships turn quite different corners.

How they vary is what really fascinated me. First, in DeLillo’s piece, the characters are staring at pieces of photography illustrating the terrors of the Holocaust and the rope burns and anguished faces of death, while in Degrees of Freedom, Pietri and Marguerite stare at the Spanish masters. Beautiful works. Works in Mannerism. Works where the artists mask every blemish. Works where creamy, buttery skin is sacrosanct. Where the subjects you’d swear have had Botox. Jewels drip. Puppies sit on laps.

The two works are also written from different points of view. Degrees of Freedom is written from the perspective of Pietri, a Maltese professor who is visiting his daughter in Seville, Spain, who meets Marguerite, a former art professor who is partially blind.  And in Delillo’s work, the two aimless protagonists have neither a job nor, it seems, much of a direction in life.

While I kept my characters largely within the art museum, in discussions that alternated between children and the merits of a Seville orange versus a Maltese fig, Delillo takes his characters out of the museum. But they take the photography with them, it seems, as they are forever changed by these horrific pieces. They seem less secure, less bounded by their relationship. In fact, once they leave the museum, their hours-old relationship falls apart. Undoubtedly, the photography in the museum changed Delillo’s characters,  shook them into walking zombies as they left the museum, rendered them unaccountable for their actions, unsure, not tethered to anything other than shock at how vile humanity can be. Pietri and Marguerite took the paintings to heart too, but they used the Spanish painters — Zurbaran, Murillo — as a connection, as a charged force that brought them together. Their relationship proved to be boundless.

You never know who you will meet in an art gallery. Regardless, it could be a while ride.

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Spanish Artists (and others) Referenced in Degrees of Freedom

The narrative of my novella Degrees of Freedom references several Spanish artists/works in the Museo de Bellas Artes, Sevilla, and other works around the world. Some readers have asked for a listing of all of these. Brilliant idea! I should have thought of this very thing months ago.
But first, check out the trailer here on YouTube: http://bit.ly/2AMIxJ
Secondly, here’s the synopsis:
A work of literary fiction that touches on themes of art history, food, and geography, Degrees of Freedom is set in Seville, Spain, and more specifically the city’s Museo de Bellas Artes gallery. The novella chronicles one man’s search to mend the unraveling seams of his life — a rocky relationship with a temperamental daughter, and a failing epistolary (and achingly platonic) friendship with an art critic for the Rome Times – using art as his therapy. As he immerses himself in the vibrancy of the Sevillan streets, the food, the people, and most compellingly, the portraiture housed in the maze of tiny galleries at the Museo, he is shaken into a surreal sense of consciousness by the profound impact that art, place, and history can stamp – sometimes favorably, and sometimes mercilessly — on life.
 
So, finally, here it is! A guide of all the works referenced — in the order in which they appear — in Degrees of Freedom.
The Apotheosis of St. Thomas Aquinas, 1631, Franscisco de Zurbaran

The Apotheosis of St. Thomas Aquinas, 1631, Franscisco de Zurbaran

Virgin and Child (La Servietta), 1670, Bartolomé Murillo

Virgin and Child (La Servietta), 1670, Bartolomé Murillo

Immaculate Conception (La Colosa), 1650, Bartolomé Murillo

Immaculate Conception (La Colosa), 1650, Bartolomé Murillo

Marriage of St. Catherine, 1682, Bartolomé Murillo

Marriage of St. Catherine, 1682, Bartolomé Murillo

Lamentation Over The Dead Christ, 1490, Pedro Millan

Lamentation Over The Dead Christ, 1490, Pedro Millan

St Hugo in the Refectory, 1655, Francisco de Zurbaran

St Hugo in the Refectory, 1655, Francisco de Zurbaran

Crucifixion, 1640, Francisco de Zurbaran

Crucifixion, 1640, Francisco de Zurbaran

Santa Teresa, Jusepe de Ribera

Santa Teresa, Jusepe de Ribera

Last Supper, 1603, Alonso Vazquez

Last Supper, 1603, Alonso Vazquez

Last Supper, 1635, Rembrandt

Last Supper, 1635, Rembrandt

Last Supper, 1467, Dieric Bouts

Last Supper, 1467, Dieric Bouts

Last Supper, 1568, El Greco

Last Supper, 1568, El Greco

Last Supper, 1498, Leonardo da Vinci

Last Supper, 1498, Leonardo da Vinci

Vision of Saint Francis of Paola, 1670, Bartolomé Murillo

Vision of Saint Francis of Paola, 1670, Bartolomé Murillo

‘Degrees of Freedom’ Has Been Published! (The Interplay of Art, Gastronomy, and Love)

Very exciting news… Degrees of Freedom — a novella that interplays the pleasures of art, gastronomy, and love — has just been published! Check it out here at Cantarabooks, an international literary press: http://cantara.squararespace.com/degrees-of-freedom/

Degrees of Freedom synopsis: A work of literary fiction that touches on themes of art history, food, and geography, Degrees of Freedom is set amid the streets of Seville, Spain, and chronicles one man’s search to mend the unraveling seams of his life — a rocky relationship with a temperamental daughter and a failing epistolary (and achingly platonic) friendship with an art critic for the Rome Times – using art as his therapy. As he immerses himself in the vibrancy of the Sevillan streets, the people, and most compellingly, the portraiture housed in the maze of tiny galleries at the city’s Museo des Bellas Artes, he is shaken into a surreal sense of consciousness by the profound impact that art, place, and history can stamp – sometimes favorably, and sometimes mercilessly — on life.

About Cantarabooks: Cantarabooks is a boutique small press of both ebooks and paperbacks with a growing international audience and a growing reputation for editorial excellence. The press is modeled, editorially, after Hogarth Press, which was founded in 1917 by authors Leonard and Virginia Woolf. An article about the connection between Cantarabooks and Hogarth Press can be found here.

Tremendous and heartfelt thanks to Cantara and Michael at Cantarabooks!

Local or Foreign Artists: Who Paints the Town Better?

Manuel Garcia Rodriguez Vista de Sevilla, Museo de Bellas Artes

Manuel Garcia Rodriguez Vista de Sevilla, Museo de Bellas Artes

The Museo de Bellas Artes in Seville, Spain, acquired the piece Vista de Sevilla from Seville artist Manuel García Rodríguez. He was part of a group of pioneer Sevillian landscape painters known as the School of  Alcalá, which focused almost exclusively on painting the Guadalquivir river that cuts through the heart of Seville. 

This brings up the question: are local artists the best to portray their city? In one sense, they’ve walked the streets a thousand times, they know the shortcuts through quiet streets, and they understand the nuances of the language, the customs, the culture. On the other hand, they may not be able to see the forest for the trees. A tourist, upon first stepping foot on the Seville streets, may bring with them a “comparative culture” analytic. Because they are not familiar with the streets, the architecture, the language, they are better able to acutely define what Seville is and whether it is timid, lazy, fast-paced, or unforgiving. In addition, a tourist will elicit a reaction from the locals (whereas locals tend to ignore other locals) and this tells volumes. (Whether the reaction/feeling is authentic or not is another story).

It would be an interesting experiment to have a local artist and a foreign artist paint the same subject matter, and then have a blind judging by locals. Wonder who would win?