Scratch Under The Surface

I feel I am just beginning to scratch under the surface of Berlin and German culture. A short stay is not enough to get through the seemingly hard external to the warm pulse inside. On the outside, German life can seem brusque because people are almost the opposite of “laid back.” Maybe that is why there is so much beer drinking: a means to slow themselves down for a while, which they can’t seem to accomplish otherwise. In the classic balance of yin (feminine) and yang (masculine), Germany is on the yang side, trying to be in harmony with yin. The first country I visited on my trip, Belize, was very yin; almost laconic to the point of lacking an impulse, and opposite of Germany.
It was in Belize that I met Steffen, who was visiting there from Berlin. And now six months later, by surprising circumstances, we see each other again in a land of an opposite culture. Through Steffen, I now have a bicycle and have met several of his friends and seen Berlin more intimately. Wow, without him, I might have missed a 7000 ft. (2000 meter) stretch of the Berlin wall that is still standing, covered with artwork and graffiti. By the time I leave for Paris, I will have taken maybe 400 pictures along the wall. I stand back and click my shutter as people pass in front of the artwork. Sometimes I choose a slow shutter speed, so the people are blurred and the artwork is focused. This adds intrigue and mystery to the fascinating scenery. The wall was originally a tall, long, white, concrete slab—what a magnet for street artists longing to tattoo it with their tags!
Speaking of tattoos, it seems at least half of the people have permanent body decoration, ranging from a butterfly on an ankle to full fledged apocalyptic visions covering the entire body, neck to toe. I have been thinking of getting one. It has been in my mind for several years—a snake wrapping around my wrist and biting my hand. Perhaps Berlin is the place to scratch some ink under the surface.
Another wonderful contact I have in Berlin is Anne. We first met in Santa Fe four years ago when she was an exchange student and I was a mentor for her in art through her American high school. Now she is in university studying linguistics and we have met again. Her English is great, so we can talk freely and share thoughts and perceptions. We went to a fabulous Berlin museum called Gemäldegalerie that possesses one of the world's finest collections of European art from the 13th to 18th century, including works by Vermeer, Rembrandt, Durer, Rubens, Velasquez, Caravaggio, Titian and many others. I get inspired standing so close to masterpieces I have seen in art history books . . . and then, being with Anne, the hard external is broken and I am no longer an outsider, but feel the warmth inside German life.

Berlin

It was not long ago that Germany was an empire in ruins, divided in two parts, almost schizophrenic. Add to that the national horror of its Nazi past, and you get a country trying to scramble out of trauma and reinvent itself for the future. Maybe this is why Berlin seems lacking in aggression, almost quiet, even though it is an active place. So many possibilities exist here, since it has a deep culture and vital economy. The people want answers and look to the future; incredibly, Barack Obama’s largest gathering at a speech was the 200,000 in Berlin July 24.
Germany is environmentally conscious. I was at a checkout in a grocery store and stood confused when my items did not receive a bag. People are expected to bring their own. Bicycle paths share the sidewalks and you better watch not to walk in the area for cyclist or one will zoom up behind you and ring his bell. It is common to see people take their bikes onto the city trains. Escalators in the subways sometimes have eyes, and when nobody is nearby, they stop until a person approaches. I thought my eyes were being tricked when the stairs suddenly started to move.
It is amazing that almost everyone speaks good English. Many shops have names in English. It is a blessing to be able to converse easily with strangers. A world language in this day and age of planetary consciousness is necessary, and by default seems to be English. People everywhere need to be able to communicate and not be isolated by language.
My friend Steffen told me there are more bridges in Berlin than in Venice, something I could hardly believe. In the bohemian neighborhoods, graffiti is everywhere, and I had to laugh when Steffen said the city gives “graffiti workshops.” Drinking in public is allowed, and a common sight on the street, not just at bars and restaurants.
I have been spending my days exploring, taking photos, painting, visiting with new friends, and writing. My situation is good, and the days before I leave for Paris on August 21 are flying by. I like being in a city that is busy reinventing itself; just like an artist!

Like a Bee

I feel like a bee, flying from flower to flower, gathering pollen and cross-pollinating as well. Today is a long journey over changing landscapes from Florence, Italy to Berlin, Germany.
Surprise of surprises . . . Frederique arrived in Florence during my stay. She is in Venice, so took a train to meet me and we went to an evening concert of Carmina Burana by Carl Orff (1895-1982) at the Boboli gardens. As usual, our time together is centered on art. She shares with me ideas for my creativity and the advancement of my career, we go to museums, and walk together through the streets as I take photos. A medieval church is a block from my house that I looked into briefly one day. Later, with Frederique, I walked inside again, and rather than quickly look at the main features, we walked slowly, observing everything carefully, and talking about the aesthetics. A much fuller experience.



Florence, is one of the most beautiful flowers of Italian civilization and culture, and this is because the city encouraged the arts to flourish for centuries. It is firmly rooted in it's grand past that it carefully preserves. Now I leave the past and move onward to Berlin, a wide open city, totally destroyed by the 2nd world war, rebuilt from the ground up and trying to reshape itself. These days, it is the cheapest urban center in Europe to live; a gathering place for artists from all over the world. I will report my initial impressions next weekend.

River Flowing Peacefully

I have been traveling for six months now, and today I wondered, where am I? Of course I know that I am in Florence, Italy, but there is a part of my mind that blurs places so that, put simply, I sense I am alive in the matrix of the earth, entirely different than a specific locale invented by man. Furthermore, my sense that time is a logical sequence of events, dissolves, so I lose track of the days and hours . . . it is all a river flowing peacefully—I do not hurry it or slow it, only drift in it and observe the changing elements.
After leaving my daughter and her friend in Brindisi to catch a ferry to Greece, I drove to Bari and reunited with friends. Immediately they absorbed me into the life of southern Italy. We ate octopus and watermelon, strolled through streets of polished white stone, and felt the welcome relief of “mistral” winds that blew away some of the summer heat. Italians are social creatures almost to the extreme, so they always act in groups and if they perceive you are alone, they want to welcome you. I spoke with Lucia about this and she acknowledged that Americans are different and can sometimes be uncomfortable with the attention, preferring their independence.
On the way back to Florence, I stopped for a night in Urbino. It is a World Heritage Site and Lucia had suggested it as a place where I could get a real sense of historical Italy. It is a stone city built on a hilltop. I found it enthralling and have included a picture here on my blog.
Friday I returned to Florence and had my temporary tooth waiting at the dental office. For the next week, I am living in a quiet apartment, on a street with many convenient shops, close to the Arno River and near Piazza Santa Maria Novella.
The mistral winds of imagination take me to Berlin next Sunday.

Astonishing Artwork

THE DREAM has re-united me with my daughter Sarah in Italy. I had not planned to return here so soon, but the currents of life and affection have brought me to Florence, and now, the Amalfi coast as I drive her and her friend to Brindisi where they will catch a ferry to Greece.

Florence is simply saturated with astonishing artwork of the past. Two major museums are the Uffizi and Accademia. I am now quite familiar with them both, and always thrill at seeing special masterpieces, such as Michelangelo’s spectacular sculpture David in the Accademia, and paintings by Bottecelli, Da Vinci, Caravaggio and others at the Uffizi. Another artist, Artemesia Gentilleschi has a tremendous painting of Judith, severing the head of Holofernes while he is in bed sleeping. The sword is just passing into the flesh and blood is squirting all over the place. She has his hair clasped in one hand and the sword firmly in the other. He has a look of horror and she is determined. In the same room always are Caravaggio paintings. One is of a snarling Medusa with writhing snakes coming out her head, and another is a relaxed partially nude Bacchus, holding up a cup of wine. Imagine all these paintings together and you have a real Italian experience.

The Amalfi coast is simply stupendous. The drama of mountains and ancient villages spilling abruptly down to the sea is scenery at its best. We have spent a night in hotel called Le Terrazze that is high up on a mountainside, overlooking the Mediterranean.

After dropping the girls off in Brindisi this evening, I will go to Bari and stay with friends for several days. Eventually, a new tooth awaits me in Florence.

I Love My Body, It Has Been So Good To Me

Written Saturday, July 5th, posted Sunday
Several years ago, after a dental checkup, my dentist, an excellent physician, told me he discovered two teeth that had slight cracks. They were next to each other in my upper right molars. He told me I should have crowns placed on both of them, and then gave me a price that I knew was high, and I backed away from the procedure. He said “it is better to have it done now than have them fracture and have to make a more expensive bridge later.” I went to another dentist who told me the teeth did not seem in danger.
Yesterday, I drove with Carol down from the mountains to have my tooth pulled out because the fracture had spread to the root and the area had become infected. As I lay in the chair and the dentist was pulling my molar out, I felt a passing sadness to lose a part of myself, even if a tooth.
Today, I have dull pain, and my tongue often goes to feel the hole left in my gum where my tooth was. I realize something else about this day. It is the anniversary of Naomi’s death, nine years ago (See the website for my book, A Heart Traced in Sand.) Whenever I have pain or discomfort, I remember her, and think that whatever happens to me is not as bad as what happened to her, and she never complained. As I pondered about her last moments, I thought about how she died. Cancer had spread over most of her body, one leg was swollen almost twice as big as the other, and she could not walk. She had lost so much weight as to be almost a skeleton, with eyes like gleaming orbs in hollow sockets. Overwhelming pain had plagued her for over a year, robbing her of rest. Her lungs slowly weakened from disease until she suffocated. Incredibly, some of her last words before she died at the age of nineteen, were, “I love my body, it has been so good to me.” Naomi practiced loving with such conviction and ardor that she overcame all negativity, and this is a lesson that I will always carry inside my heart.
I go to Florence, Italy on Wednesday, 9 July to meet Sarah. I will need to get a temporary tooth put in, so the way things are playing out, a Spanish doctor pulls my tooth out, an Italian puts a temporary in, and one from India implants a permanent false tooth. How is that for international cooperation?

Muy Tranquilo

I have once again found my way to the remote mountain village of Darrical, ( see my blog of May, 2007 ) where my friends Carol and Rolf live. Carol says that sometimes during the year, as few as 15 people reside here. It is on the opposite side of the Spanish social and cultural spectrum from Madrid: no fashions, stores, telephone lines or Internet, no commerce except goat cheese from the goat herders wife.
In big cities, all the noises tend to blend into a cacophony of clatter. Here in Darrical, I notice and appreciate every sound, such as the rooster crowing, wind blowing in the trees, birds singing, a child’s laughter, or the goats passing by with their bells jangling. These months, it becomes hot during the midday, so people stop work and take siesta. Life is “muy tranquilo,” meaning, very peaceful.
I am painting landscapes, and also, going with my camera into the many abandoned and ruined homes that dot the hillsides. I like being in the midst of the crumbling remains of houses that once contained the lives of generations of villagers, and see how time and nature paints over the hand of man.
I am getting emergency dental work done in a nearby town, and find the dentist excellent and very inexpensive compared to the USA. I have a fractured tooth that became infected and now I am on antibiotics, waiting for my next appointment, when the tooth might be pulled out, depending on what the doctor decides.
Again, my plans are shifting away from my original vision of going eastward around the world. Since arriving in Egypt, I have been circling the Mediterranean Sea, and now I will backtrack and revisit Italy. My daughter Sarah is coming with a friend to Europe, and I will meet her in Florence on July 9, then on the 12th, drive them to a port on the Adriatic where they will catch a ferry to Greece. Afterwards, I might return to Florence and live for a while. In Madrid, the streets were exciting enough that I became quite happy going out everyday for photo shoots. Now, I am envisioning a book of street photography from around the world, and so I think I will go from Italy to Berlin, Germany. I have been told it is a wonderful, artistic city. I can go there, then Paris, before going into the hot climates of Africa. In the end, THE DREAM is what matters . . . and has its own life.
Late note: Spain has just won the European Cup soccer match against Germany, and there is pandemonium in the streets!

Common Humanity

The surface of the moon became a stage when the astronauts landed there, and Madrid became my stage when I landed here. I have taken to the streets with enthusiasm and enjoyed the wide avenues, fashions, museums, street performers, vagabonds, and café life. My apartment is in the midst of it all, so I am part of the pulse. The Indian consulate issued me a visa, Nikon fixed my lens, I took a thousand photographs, made a new “three hands” painting, and visited some of the best museums in the world. The weather has been perfect, and I have not had a bad day.
Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum houses an art collection that originally was collected by the Thyssen-Bornemisza family for over two generations. The largest and most important part, over 800 important masterpieces, was acquired by Spain in 1993. It is one of the finest and well-organized bodies of art I have seen, and kept in a palace originally built in the 18th century, and then expanded and remodeled. The artwork spans the ages from classical to modern. A fantastic, large, Caravaggio painting, called Saint Catherine of Alexandria caught my eye in a prominent position in a smaller room. I arrived at the same time as two other admiring people, and within minutes we began talking with each other excitedly. Francesco is Italian and Deniz is from Turkey. We all understood and appreciated art and could talk about it, and fortunately for me, the other two spoke good English. Deniz happens to be an art historian living in Berlin, but she lived in Venice for two years and speaks Italian. I am an artist and know quite a lot about art, so our conversation stayed elevated. Francesco became animated and took us around to other important Italian paintings in the collection, talking all the while. The paintings themselves offered us topics and thrilled our senses. This is what art does; speaks to our common humanity in a universal language. It breaks barriers between people and offers dialogue.
Click artistic photography to see photos by Steven Boone of the streets of Madrid.

In-depth Feeling Of Spain

Fate brought me to Madrid, and I am glad. It was not my intention to come here, but I need to repair my camera lens, and also, get a visa to India, since the Indian visa I received in the USA is expired. I have a nice apartment in the heart of the city, and I like the life. Every shop imaginable is nearby, the streets are vibrant, nearby subways take people anywhere they want to go, and the museums are fantastic.
I have been working on the next “three hands” painting. It is a landscape of a house in a village setting, with three hands intruding from top and bottom.
I went to the Indian Embassy, and was told to come back Friday, June 20th to pick up my visa (if it is granted.) My lens is being repaired, and meanwhile, since I have become so addicted to street photography, I bought another lens (50mm f/1.8D Nikkor) that is proving even better for shooting people and close-ups of buildings. Every day, I go out and “get in the zone,” a kind of trance where I am not particularly aware of myself or where I am, only textures, color and light. People too, are objects that are reflecting light . . . and I use my camera liberally. I don’t feel timid, or if so, I overcome the timidity quickly in order to get candid photos and be ready for the unexpected.
So far, I have been to two great museums of art: The Prado, and the Reina Sophia. These are two anchors of Spanish culture, and great ambassadors for Spain. As an artist, I am very thankful for the opportunity to see masterpieces of the past, carefully preserved and on display for the public, housed in grand buildings that are inviting. The great giants of Spanish art are well represented: El Greco, Murrillo, Goya, Velasquez, Dali, Picasso, Miro and Tapies. And there are more collections that I have not seen!
Madrid gives me an in-depth feeling of Spain and it’s heritage that is surprising. It feels as though I could live here.

Grand Confusion

What is the difference between our dreaming and wakened consciousness? Sleep is often maligned as the poorer cousin of wakened consciousness. There are phrases that describe common attitudes about sleep, such as, “it is only a dream,” or “you were only dreaming.” But during sleep and dreaming, incredibly lucid and illuminating episodes of our lives occur and are etched into our memories. Before leaving Santa Fe to begin my solo traveling around the world, I woke one morning remembering a sentence I had heard moments before. A voice had spoken to me, saying, “The vessel he entered was a grand confusion between his world and the world outside of him.” Immediately, I knew that the words referred to my soon to come journey. The description was in the past tense, as if it had already occurred. Who was speaking and from where? The voice was other than my own, and spoken for me to hear. Some people will say that everything I dreamed was merely my own invention, but I never speak of the future in the past tense, nor do I describe life experiences so obtusely and symbolically. I believe that in sleep and dreaming, I experienced a meeting with spirits that live outside of time. They comprehend mortal life easily, and even interact with us beings here on the physical plane. Unfortunately, our minds are troubled going outside time and space, so we call this sort of experience fantasy.
How delicious and wonderful are moments when they are not isolated entities like words by themselves on a page, and when we are conscious that they belong to sentences in the grandest of all novels, and are part of a magnificent story that began beyond the limits of our consciousness and extends forever.
As the spirit foretold, I have been experiencing life as a grand confusion between my inner and outer world; a captivating journey that is very real and nonetheless I call THE DREAM.
In two days I leave Granada, and go to Madrid.

Three Hands

Granada, Spain and I have mixed together so much that our boundaries are now obscure. Textures, winding cobbled streets, sounds of clapping hands and guitar chords, imaginative tagging and gritty ambience all have overwhelmed my consciousness and senses.
Frederique has been here a week and we have explored together. Her intellect is sharp and my enthusiasm great, and we both have deep passion for art. She claims to love observing me in my process of seeing, and she notices what I miss. When we first met, she objected to being photographed, but my persistence won out. I painted her portrait, and at her suggestion, will do a series of portrait paintings with three hands.
We have seen some good flamenco shows. Frederique is quite knowledgable about this dance form, since her sister is married with a world reknowned flamenco guitarist and composer; Jean Baptiste Marino. Fortunately, Sacromonte, where my apartment is located, is also the best neighborhood for flamenco establishments. The “caves” are intimate, and the vibrant music, mixed with the twirling and stomping dancers and plaintive bold notes of singers have maximum effect.