New Years Eve -- Milna

Milna has its first ever New Years Eve fireworks!  If you look closely, you can just make out the figure of Slavko directly beneath.

Fwd: I have been writing about Picasso and his Art since 1974.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: charles grimes <charlesgrimes9@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Dec 30, 2013 at 9:36 AM
Subject: I have been writing about Picasso and his Art since 1974.
To: charlesgrimes9@gmail.com


I have been writing about Picasso and his Art since 1974.

I wrote a senior thesis, if you will accept that concept, on the Russian Ballet Troupes ballet Parade that was first performed in 1917 even while the guns and bomb blasts  of world war 1 could be heard just outside of Paris

The ballet was conceived by  Jean Cocteau and the music was scored by Erik Satie (whom i was most interested in at this time).  The Ballet Russes  producer Diaghilev agreed to perform the piece if Cocteau could produce an artistic director.
Without hesitation the young Cocteau sought out the greatest artistic talent of the day and without fail Picasso agreed to work on the ballet and most astonishingly even agreed to travel to Rome, Italy to work on the sets, costumes and to complete the glorious post cubist curtain for the production of Parade which was to be first performed in France.

I can to this day remember the heady days I had writing this piece, the morning sessions I  spent researching in the archives of the Suzzalo Library and then the late afternoon strolls  I would take home with my head in the rare atmosphere of the  collaboration of Satie, Picasso & Cocteau.

My memory is also complete with the remembrance of having a casual girlfriend help me prepare my photographs of the artists and the ballet for my thesis binder.

At this point in my life I over thought myself as a suave scholar of  history and literature and jazz and  i always assumed an air of self imposed arrogance and after my friend Laura, an  advanced Art student, squeezed my hand and beckoned me forward i was willing to try anything to advance my erudition.  Laura had the brilliant idea of using a  heat transfer piece of equipment in the Art Dept to attach my photos to paper.   She assured me she would run interference for me if anyone in the Art department complained if a History student had the audacity to use Art department equipment.  After she gave me another squeeze I was willing to give this a go no matter how wrong it might be for me to use  equipment I had no right to.  Love in the moment confused my sense of morality.

Well shortly into our project two Creative art thugs walked up to me in the Art studio and told me to get my hands off their equipment .  I paused for a moment and thought two of them one of me but then Laura returned from a quick departure and she smiled at the roguish brothers, yes they were brothers, and told them to dry up and blow off.  The boys huffed and puffed but my project was finished, although in a hurried fashion, and I left with my exciting and sensual accomplish, my project under one arm and the other hand pointing to a place where we could sit and enjoy the photos and plot our next adventure together (of which, sadly, there were none as it appeared she wanted a real boyfriend and not a boy who only wanted to be in love for a few days).

But then I digress so back to Picasso and the fascinating journey of becoming a writer of history and art and how I was launched into the future.

Writing about such brilliant artists like Picasso and Satie opened me up to what I later termed as the potential of the human spirit.  What each one of us can realize with our collective talents is the reason to give us hope for humanity.  Once a friend of mine asked me why I bothered to spend the hours researching and writing about Picasso and I was dumbfounded.  I ran home and gathered up some newspaper clippings about an installation of Paul Gauguin  at a New York City museum and returned to show my friend a painting by Gauguin and said I work at my Art because Gauguin painted like this.  I believe it is inherent in me to want to create because I have seen what the great masters have created.  Even though I know I cannot breath the air that they did I at least am doing my best to feel that air if only in a fleeting moment.

I would like to thank my professor Reed Merrill for allowing me to have such comparative and explorative experiences writing my paper and sending me off on a lifetime journey of writing, painting and discussing the historical context of Art and especially Picasso and through the production of my paper becoming a keen observer of the power of women.   Although, I am sure that Reed would have preferred it more if I had just stuck with writing about Tolstoy and Dostoevsky like he had advised me  so many times.

PS. A short anecdote about Reed Merrill.

As a student I loved to visit with Reed during his office hours in the Literature Department.  These visits were grand verbal jousting matches with the many witty students, the local part-time intellectuals and the King of Wit himself Professor Merrill.  We  would gather in his book lined office and spend hours being schooled by Reed's razor sharp  intellectual banter.  I loved to get there early and grab a chair and study all of the fabulous  books on display.  In terms of the Great Ideas of History all of the scholarship you could ever desire was right there on those shelves waiting for you to pull them down into your inquisitive hands and to start turning the pages.  From medieval poetry to Mircea Eliade to the new paradigms in scientific thought on Physics  a student could find no grater resource library.

However, one day after I had graduated, I went to visit Reed in his office and all of his books were gone except for one small zippered covered leather bound  edition of the King James Bible.  Astonished by this turn of events I looked at Reed and quizzed him.  "Reed what has happened here?"

Reed leaned forward in his chair, with his rounded shoulders slumped towards me, and wryly smiled and said. "I had decided recently to devote myself to the word of The Lord but then the damn zipper stuck.  I now have to re-think this new intellectual posture."

Reed then chuckled, leaned back in his leather bound office chair and  started to talk about South American authors and we drifted off discussing the dusty confines of the ancient library of Jorge Luis Borge.

That was the last time I saw Professor Merrill.


Sent from my iPhone

Just another sunset at Eliot and Kyra's.

Eliot's Renovation

A while ago, Slavko inquired as to the extent of the renovation required
at Eliot's new house. I didn't reply. Now, as a reply, I post photos
of two of Eliot's 4 bathrooms. This is typical.

(That's the basement that you can see beneath the joists.)

Happy Solstice

Once again, it is up from here . . . !  HOO-RAY!!!!!!!

(A view from Eliot and Kyra's new house.)

All in a Day's Work

Just a photo of Eliot after a day's work in the weather . . .

Friday Morning

Now We're Getting Somewhere

"Beyond making calculations easier or possibly leading the way to quantum gravity, the discovery of the amplituhedron could cause an even more profound shift, Arkani-Hamed said. That is, giving up space and time as fundamental constituents of nature and figuring out how the Big Bang and cosmological evolution of the universe arose out of pure geometry.

“In a sense, we would see that change arises from the structure of the object,” he said. “But it’s not from the object changing. The object is basically timeless.”

from Wired, "Scientists Discover a Jewel at the Heart of Quantum Physics"
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2013/12/amplituhedron-jewel-quantum-physics/all/

Charles Writes: Partisan Picasso

Partisan Picasso by Charles Grimes

After the liberation of Paris in August of 1944 Picasso was the mythical, but very much alive, King of France.  American soldiers were sleeping in the hallways of his home just to be near him, Western dignitaries saw him as a symbol of freedom for staring down the Nazis and the face of Picasso was on every tabloid in Europe.  Picasso was adored by the French Intellectuals for the simple reason that he came out from under the Nazi Occupation as the boldest or at least the least politically embarrassed of the French intellectuals in Post War France who had lived in a France governed by the fascists.   It was thought that over 40% of the French people collaborated openly with the Nazis and Picasso had had none of the collaborating, a lot of the suffering and most of all kept on working at his Art no matter what the consequence might be.  Although Picasso was the painter of Guernica and was a noted anti-fascist, Picasso lived openly in Paris.  And even if he had to keep his nose clean and his head down, he somehow managed to live through the four years of dreadful hostility and miserable living conditions while the Germans were running the country. On top of this Picasso even managed to acquire a new twenty-one year old girlfriend named Francoise Gilot who was an other worldly catch for a sixty-three year old Spaniard.  And she was smart and painterly to add to her qualities of beauty.  As always, Dora Marr was, as well, patiently waiting for his attention and living around the corner from Picasso vigilantly prepared for him to call at any moment.

Picasso was doing very well, it seemed, in August of 1944.

Then, in less than three short months later, Picasso becomes the anti-hero to the West.  Picasso joins the brotherhood of the Communist Party.

How did this happen?

Let me paint you a story about Partisan Picasso:

Birthday Camp Out

A photo from my birthday night 'picnic' at Eliot and Kyra's new
construction project/ house. Eliot and I take a break for dinner that
Kyra, Julia and Eason brought over.

Anniversary

Happy Anniversary to John and Julia! Us!

44.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to me, Lynne and Sam!!

A Christmas Wreath

Lori is busy this holiday season polishing her skills with this
beautiful Christmas wreath!!!

new book title

Picasso Becomes a Communist and other Brands

An October Vacation

Spencer and Sally enjoy themselves down in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico for a
few days this October.

Milna Catch-Up: from Julia

Julia wrote to her sister, Denise, who loves the olive oil from Brač: 

"This year I was on Brač late enough to pick olives. People picking olives absolutely everywhere! So interesting. In Milna folks still use a traditional press and the olive oil I brought back was picked nearby and made here - in the "Milna" olive photos. (This is the oil I have for you.) This press actually squeezes the oil out and they may do two 'presses' from the same olives.  A larger town on the island, Supetar, has a newer commercial centrifuge press. It makes larger quantities for both the commercial market and for locals - and in both places you can walk in anytime they are pressing with your own bottle to buy oil (one photo shows a man filling a bottle for this). The photos attached show both places and my olive picking experience"

Here

We are home safe.  Julia narrowly saved me from getting thrown in the brig at U.S. Customs.  You really shouldn't yell at a Customs agent who is just doing her job.

A different car key in my pocket, American money in my wallet, and a different cell phone, and suddenly I have a different identity!

Amazing!

No morning rakija, tho.

One More, Just to Prove that I was really there

There are two ancient churches of Sv. Vid on Brac.  Both of them are in ruins.  Perhaps because they represent such a clear link to the pagan past and were superseded in people's hearts by more conventional saints?  Anyway, in this ruin a part of the altar still stands and if you look closely you can discern heavily eroded, carved floral designs.  But, like the title to this post says, this photo is just to prove that I WAS THERE.

Trifecta Today

A first!!!!  Slavko and I left at 8 this morning for the old, old village of Dol.  Dol lies in an agricultural valley not far from the sea, surrounded by huge stony hills.  It also boasts no less than 3 of the island's  1000 year old churches that I have been casually pursuing for the past 10 years.  We climbed through late summer like weather up and down two mountainsides, over loose stone pathways,  through fields of wild mint and ancient olive trees, to find the ruins of the 10 th century Sv. Vid (a reference to the Slav pagan god Vid), the 9th century church of Sv. Michael, which has a Roman sarcophagus as a door frame,  and the 11 th century church of Sv. Petar, well maintained in the old graveyard of the village.  Three pre-Romanesque churches in a single, lovely, sweating day!   Slavko brought just a taste of rakija to celebrate our triumph on the mountaintop.

So Far Behind, So Close to Departure

Man, we are in the final frenzy of preparing to leave for home....the bills to pay, house to ready, laundry strategy,  money strategy, cleaning, renovation ti consider, goodbyes to say.....it goes on and on surprisingly ....and I am still far behind in reporting....our day with Slavko on the highest road in Croatia,; our all night party with Ivo, L, Marko and Nensi, Tomos and Thea; peka with Slavko and Nada in Donji Humacs;  a quick trip to Sv. Martin......ah well, the weather is lovely and tomorrow morning Slavko and I attempt  a blitz of three pre-romanesque churches in a single morning, then back to laundry, house cleaning and sleeplessness.....

Milna Studio - Nov 4, 2013

Sv. Tudor, aka Saint Theodore, in my little backrom studio . . .


-------- Original message --------
From Julia Hurd <julia@qsoup.net>
Date: 11/04/2013 3:43 PM (GMT+01:00)
To jhurd@qsoup.net
Subject Milna Studio - Nov 4, 2013

 

Eason in his new community

Halloween carnival at the Bayview Community Center.

What a handeome grandson, eh?

Still 2 Weeķs in Arrears: Sv. Barbara

Despite her prowess as protectress from the lightning bolt, Sv. Barbara  proved a lady throughout our coming and going.   With GPS, an excellent new map which I had downloaded to my tablet, and a clue from the young curator in Skrip, I knew just where she was waiting and I had a good idea how to get there.  We geared up for a moderately long hike, brought along our umbrellas just in case, climbed the highway in our car up and out of Nerezisce heading east, and then surprised ourselves.  Instead of parking farther down the road past the turnoff to Podgazul and then hiking in, as was our plan, we veered onto a side road just before the road to Vidova Gora and drove a rocky way all the way to the church!

We drove the old road from Praznice to Nerezisce, through rustic orchard and through macchia, that Mediterranean scrub so different from the vegetation lower on the island,  passed several dolines,  those sinkholes typical of the karst,  noticed the rams skull and sheep pelt hanging in branches along the way, paused so that Julia could climb out of the car and open a couple of sheep gates, crawled slowly over the rough spots, and pulled into a wide spot in a rough crossroads in the shade next to Sv. Barbara.

She was half-hidden in the copse, flanked by a low stone wall, stone mounds, stone walls, and stoney fields, Ah, she was modest, but not coy, possessed a slightly tallish but not exaggerated aspect, and presented a simple elegance in her full dress of shining white plaster.

In the interests of reporting objectivity, and as inappropriate as it may be perhaps, I feel I must comment upon her square apse.  (Lady, forgive me!)  And also upon the curious crescent shaped flying arch covering her lunette, which almost reminded me if some outlandish medieval hat as seen in a painting by Someone the Elder.  (Again, please forgive me.) 

Peering inside, we could see a plain altar with a small crucifix upon it and no altarpiece behind.  The apse inside was pleasingly rounded.

Saint Barbara, like Sv. Theodore,  was also a favorite of the Eastern church.  Take a fairy tale princess locked away from the world in a tower, add curiosity, conversion and some subsequent grisly torture, nursings by angels in the nightime, steadfastness and a final beheading by her own father, and you have her story.  With the slight addendum, that her father was then killed by a lightningbolt , as would be only proper, as he went home from her execution.

We sat on a crude bench in the sun for a bit, wandered about being generally inquisitive, looked for aesthetically pleasing rocks, drank some water, checked the sky for thunderclouds, and bade her a polite adieu.

My idea that we try to continue on the road and intersect the highway further on brought us into the midst of a flock of milling sheep, to a wild pig hunting stand decaying in a white stone clearing, and then prudently we wheeled about and went out the way we had come in.  Good grief, the whole adventure was so civilised and comfortable my grandmother could have done it.  Oh, wait, we are our grandparents.

Happy Birthday, Tim

We were out of town for a day or so but still wanted to register an official Happy Birthday wish.

John and Julia

Catch-up: Saint Theodore

We set out to find Sv. Tudor on a sunny day in early October, the last day of sun before the rains came. At the time of course all we knew was the delight of hiking in pleasant weather on a sun dappled path through pine, over stone, and between stoney walls in an air laden with rosemary and other herb. 

This was my second year church hunting equipped with GPS, but as I had found out last year, without coordinates or a good map showing your target's location, GPS was of limited use.  It could show you where you were but not where you needed to go.  As an aide, then, I had researched some descriptions of the church's location:  "below the mound on Velo Brdo";  "on the northwest slope of the ridge below Crno Korita";   "150 meters west of Zurmo."  (This last bit was either 180 degrees wrong, or we misunderstood what "Zurmo" meant in this context.)

We drove out of Nerezisce, off the pavement, onto the sharp rocky road so typical of the island, past the recently lighting-struck church of Sv. Jakov, and past the turn off to the stone formation Kolac.   The lane narrowed between shrubs and stone walls, changed suddenly from the crushed rock to well-worn stone, plunged, and came to an end --  as far as our auto was concerned -- in an valley, part agriculture, part rusting machinery.   

The pathway that climbed out of this valley was a surprise.  It was wide and elegant, with cut stone curbing and cobble-stones in places, evidently once a pathway of some importance running from the capitol town.  (I have a memory of a section of stones, round and polished as ostrich eggs, heavily eroded between, although when I look at photograps I can't find this.)  Along the way, it offered panoramic views of Nerezisce, the white mountains of the mainland, wooded valleys and piney mountains.  As we walked, we were kept company by Velo Brdo just to the northwest, sporting its enormous, highly visible prehistoric cairn.

Sv. Tudor -- or Theodore -- is a warrior saint especially important in the Eastern Orthdox church.  A general in the Roman army in 4th century Turkey, brought before a tribunal he refused to repent of his Christian faith even though it was a capital crime.  Set free, he attempted to burn a temple to Cybele and was subsequently martyred.  (Note: Cybele takes care of her own.) Tales of his exploits grew so complex and so contradictory, that eventually he was split into two Sv. Theodores, he of Amasea and he of Heraclea, distinguished by a beard with a single point or with two points.  He was the patron saint of the Byzantine army and the first patron saint of Venice until he was dislodged by a pieced together St. Mark in the 9th century as Venice attempted to divest itself of Byzantine influence.

Finding a church here dedicated to him seemed puzzling.  He  is of little importance to the populace now on this Roman Catholic island.  His church here is in ruins and the one in Bol that he shared with St. John was rededicated in the Middle Ages to St. John only.  But then the curator in the island museum in Skrip reminded me of the Byzantine emperor Justinian's reconquest of the Western Roman Empire int the 6th century.  Neighboring Salona was retaken in 536. There was a Byzantine army camp here in Bol.  This small church was evidently built in thanksgiving for victory over the Goths.  And too as I mentioned Sv. Theodore was the patron saint of Venice. And Venice of course ruled Brac for 800 years from the capitol in nearby Nerezisce, just a couple of kilometers away.

And finally and certainly Sv. Tudor known as the dragon slayer  found a welcome for a while at least on this island of vipers and adders until he was replaced by St. George,  his sometime companion and now the patron saint of the island.

Obilivious of this history at the time, we walked on, climbing steadily until we heard sheep, glimpsed briefly, running in their faux-panic through the trees.  Soon after, we came upon the ancient Roman water hole, Zurmo. 

Zurmo is "Roman" in that there once existed a Roman settlement there that used the watering hole for their livestock.  The presence of the nearby tumuli suggests that it has an even older history.  The sheep today suggest that it continues to fulfill its ancient role.  At any rate, it is unmistakable and easily spotted along the trail.  From there, after several false starts trying to interpret the clues I had found, we had the presence of mind to backtrack about 240 paces from the water until we spied an old but distinct path on the south side of the path sweeping up towards the ridge and Crno Korita.  Climbing this a very short way and we found what remains of the 1500 year old church of Sv. Tudor / Theodore.

The ruins are perched on a piney hillside and are perhaps a meter or more high.  The four walls, the semi-circular aspe, and what may be some unusual square column work on its east side are all visible.  The apse is full of toppled stone and dressed stone lies round about.  Sitting atop the stones looking out the doorway facing west, you have a fine view of Velo Brdo before you, the quarry works of Donji Humacs and the site of the old church of Sdv. Illija to your right, and through another piney valley  the sea to your left. Off to the side is a natural sculpture garden,  altars, or perhaps a picnic area, of white stone.  It is very close and beautiful.  You hear the sheep, the wind;  you feel the silent pressure of ages.

At some later time perhaps I will tell of the gift that Sv. Tudor offered me there and of what efforts I subsequently made to claim it.

Rakija

Last week to my great sorrow I was sicker than a dawg just when I was supposed to be on the mainland with Slavko getting the residue of his winemaking distilled to brandy.  

Slavko wrote me:

'Those adorable, sweet smells once they open up the brandy cooking pots!  Sorry John for not experiencing this!'

Ahem.  Next year maybe.

Almir and Dragana Send Sarajevo Greetings

Dragana writes:

We've just had a great dinner, and we're thinking about you!! We miss you so much. :) 

Here's the newest 'masterpiece' - almost finished!

This and that

Well, a few days ago we broke out of the rain and back into sun.  Julia managed to give me her Sarajevo cold and I was drowning in my own fluids til we found Coldrex (consider this a plug).  Still we have managed to do more backroads island exploring, some walking, meet some interesting people, sun soaking.  I have visited two more ancient churches and still have two more to go this year.  We leave in 3 weeks and I am staring at a long list of home  maintenance issues.  I am however well enough now to drink beer again.  That helps a bit.  And the prospect of a terrifying trip to the top of the mountains on the mainland with Slavko.....

Yay!

Bosnia-Herzegovina made history Tuesday, qualifying for its first World Cup in its fifth attempt as an independent nation!

Fwd: Stupid things I would say if I were there

I am fighting to break free


-------- Original message --------
From charles grimes <charlesgrimes9@gmail.com>
Date: 10/09/2013 12:30 AM (GMT+01:00)
To jhurd <jhurd@qsoup.net>
Subject Stupid things I would say if I were there


What is bothering you
what has grabbed you in such a tight grip
it's only one painting you have so many more great paintings inside of you
if you can't finish this painting shoot it And move on

Charles

Sent from my iPhone

After Sarajevo

After Sarajevo, and a brief stop one hour north to visit Ermis's mom, Mejra, we headed into the Bosnian mountains to the ancient town of Jajce.  Jajce lies at the confluence of two rivers, deep in the river valleys and is famous for its beautiful waterfalls among other things.  Above the town is a huge ancient fortress built about, hmmmmm, 1200 or before.  It was the site of the coronation of the last King of Bosnia.  Islam was on its way, and it served both Islam and Austro-Hungary later.  It was also a headquarters for Tito during a couple years of WWII and witnessed the creation of the renewed state of Yugoslavia during that war.  What drew me here was a ruined temple to the god Mitras,  I'd never seen one, and which I soon discovered, was now preserved in a style I'd never expected.  Julia and I had our photo taken at the waterfalls by the Commander of NATO in the Balkans, an American General.  Sometimes it seems so close over here.

A Few Photos from Sarajevo

Photo Catch-up One

Last week we went to the mainland and stayed for three days in a room just below the ancient fortress of Klis, which overlooks Solin and Split.  During that time, we drove rocky roads past concrete Italian bunkers from WWII to the top of the karst mountains and the medieval church of St. Jure.  The true attraction was the shining wall of white stone that Slavko is building at his house in Solin.