Is hope something that is somehow in motion? or is it something that is very still?
I posed this question on Facebook today instead of writing a post. I'm working on a painting and am trying to get a better understanding of how images relate to feelings. How can we describe something without using the word for it? What kind of symbols are associated with the words we chose? How can we describe in an image the effect or quality of a feeling? Not sure what will come of my "research" but so far here are some answers to the question, Is hope something that is somehow in motion? or is it something that is very still?:
0 Comments
(A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19)
My brother is China. When this all started in China, it started with my brother, his wife and their two boys. I am Italy. I share Italy with Bino, my youngest brother’s partner’s father. He’s been Italy much longer than me. Our youngest brother is New York City. He, his partner and their daughter, the youngest and brightest of the clan, are New York City, though sometimes we say Brooklyn. Our parents are Long Island. My oldest son is airplanes, sometimes Chicago. My youngest son is mostly himself, riding this out writing, in an apartment with his wife (making art), with a view of the sea, not too far from me. When try to stay present, I am often in the present in four time zones. I try to be where my feet are, but it isn’t always easy. (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19)
A couple days ago, we got the newest set of even more strident directives issued by the prime minister in regards to further closures and restrictions nationwide, and, in sharp contrast to any and all previous communication issued by the Italian government on any topic, there is what could cautiously be referred to as a small degree of clarity. One point in particular emerges: certain professionals (including architects), who have private studios, may in fact go to work. “See?? Now that makes sense.” G. had been stopped in the street a week ago by the carabinieri, who, in their zeal to interpret and implement a series of imprecise directives, had instructed him to work from home or face a ticket and/or jail the next time they say him. (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19)
We wake to grey skies and a light snowfall mixed with rain. The precipitation is welcome, even if it’s cold. The warm dry winter we’ve had has been concerning. I am grateful to the grey snowy day most especially because it’s perfect weather for staying inside, putting something in the oven and something else on the stovetop. I will venture out just for a moment though. Yesterday I went to the supermarket to stock up on some packaged items, but I didn’t get vegetables. I’m used to doing the major part of my shopping at one of two open air markets that happen each week, one in my town on Fridays, the other on Saturdays in the next town over. Both have been closed for weeks. (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19)
It’s my turn to go to the grocery store again. It shouldn’t be. After the last fiasco in which I not only left the house without a mask, I also stopped to drop a book off to someone and then proceeded to fare una chiacchiera with the shopkeeper (who was, in my defense, wearing a mask), it was agreed that I couldn’t be trusted with either the shopping or the lives of the people of our community. I get his point—we’re doing this to keep others safe, even more than for our own sakes, and who knows if I’m carrying this disease or not? I didn’t cough or touch my face (or anyone’s face) or shake hands, and I washed my hands both coming and going. But the mask… a crucial error. I’m learning. G. has a cough today though, we need things, and, being one of the few genuinely altruistic people I know, he’s temporarily stepped down from his position as Official House Shopper, entrusting me with the job. |
MBI added this blog as a way to share some thoughts and experiences around the impact of Covid-19 on my life here in Southern Italy. These posts have been a near-daily practice during this time and are largely unedited, most having been first posted on Facebook. They are of course in order with the most recent entry on the first page. I invite you to explore previous posts or even start from the beginning. Archives
June 2022
|