The Dark Continent

Note: This post is late because I was on safari.

Before leaving the United States, my mother pleaded with me, “please don’t go to Africa, they will kill you for your shoes there.” But how could I go around the world and not visit the Dark Continent? It is true that crime and corruption is rampant, along with unrest and inequality, and Africa is dangerous. But it is also vibrant, colorful and soulful.
When I arrived, I was met at the airport by Charity, an African woman who runs Kikuyu Lodge in Nairobi. Her partner, Trevor, is British and built the lodge himself on the outskirts of the city. After living in Rome, I am shocked how disheveled and ramshackle are the surroundings. Streets are crowded and roads are in poor condition. Along the highways are tiny shops pieced together from scraps of wood and tin. People are sometimes dressed in little more than rags. There is a lack of aesthetics . . . Kenya is practically barren of high culture, and my first day in Nairobi, my eyes hurt, starved for fine art in the surroundings.
I search for beauty and find it in people and some of the landscape. Everyday, I swim in a black ocean of humanity. The shades of black go from chocolate brown to ebony, and it is a wonderful experience for my eyes, accustomed to white everywhere. The skin is smooth and soft to the touch and I notice how light reflects differently across dark features. Generally, people seem quick to smile and wave hello, and at least look curiously at me, a white stranger in their midst. The main language is Kikuyu, the largest tribe in Kenya. English is universal, but sometimes among less educated people, vocabulary is severely limited and communication in English difficult.
Baha’u’llah in His Writings, "compared the colored people to the black pupil of the eye," through which "the light of the spirit shineth forth." — Just like the black pupil of the eye absorbs the utmost light to feed the brain information for cognition, it seems the dark race is the principal transmitter of earthiness and primary experience.
I am biding my time, waiting to go on safari. I go out with Charity everyday, mostly to use the Internet while she does errands, but also, we visit a tea plantation, a flower farm, and a Masai crafts market and a self-help co-op for single women with children where jewelry is manufactured. We have conversations and laugh together as our personalities mingle. I hoped to do some street photography, but noticed that people are more wary of cameras pointed toward them. One day, Charity takes me downtown and we walk while I snap pictures. She explains that some areas, especially around government buildings, are strictly taboo for photography and if caught, police can make an arrest. While we walk, she keeps close watch on me, warning me to keep aware of my personal space because of robbers on the street. At one point, she entirely forbids me to go into an area. “Do you know what can happen?” she asks. “A thief will attack you from behind and lift you off the ground while another one will take your shoes!”

Spills and Thrills

A good fairy-tale has spills and thrills, twists and turns, darkness and light, a bit of fear, salvation, and lessons. My sojourn in Europe has taken me unexpected places and on a course I had not planned. I have made friends and also have been alone for long periods. I developed a new series of paintings and also my street photography. This evening, I travel to Africa. The primeval in me looks forward to a safari, wide-open spaces, wildness and viewing exotic animals in their native habitat. Also, I will experience the streets of modern Africa.
Before leaving European civilization, since I am in Rome, I visited the Villa Borghese to see the priceless collection of sculptures and paintings. I remember their effect from previous visits in years past. Especially, the life-sized marble sculptures of Gian Lorenzo Bernini take my breath away and I find I can’t take my eyes off them. They are so heavenly, I wonder how they could have come from a man, but rather, must have been crafted by a divine hand.
Just the other day, Luca asked me about low points in my journey and I could not think of any to speak of. Well, I just now have a low point. I missed my flight to Africa and have had to book another. I had it in my mind that I was leaving around midnight tonight when in fact the plane departed at 12:55 AM this morning. I feel stupid for this expensive mistake. Time references are in 24 hour increments in Europe, so they do not use AM or PM. Anyway, I am now going to Nairobi, Kenya instead of Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, and will stay there, since my safari begins and ends in Nairobi. Before, I was going to meet up with the safari in Arusha, Tanzania. A crazy twist, and I try to see it as a little darkness in my fairy-tale . . . nothing more.
This week, I updated my artistic photography website, http://graphixshoot.com, so have a look. It has the best of my around-the-world photos, and they are not typical tourist snapshots.
Next week I will be on safari, so will have to catch up on the blog when I can.

How Awesome Is The World

I have been traveling across continents for 6 ½ months since leaving Santa Fe last February. I am using the same two suitcases, with some different contents now. My energy is good and I don’t think about stopping. The time will come eventually, but I do not know when. I feel stronger and my creative possibilities have broadened along with my knowledge of the world. The biggest challenge has been intervals of isolation without friends or anyone to share with. Yet, this is my freedom as well, since I move in any direction and follow my whims. Now I am in Rome, and it was only a few weeks ago while in Paris that I decided to come here. The streets enliven me, and sometimes I feel incredible to be living in fantastic locales. Thankfully, despite my brevity in places, I meet great people and develop friendships. Last night, the owners of my apartment invited me to their house for dinner. Their son, Luca, has an incredible talent for languages and speaks eight fluently although he is not yet thirty years old. I felt right at home at the dinner table . . . we began at 9 PM and finished around 11 PM with a four course meal, good conversation, laughter, philosophy and drink. Later I walked with Luca into nearby Trasteverde and mingled with the weekend crowds.
In Italy, the Roman Catholic Church has been a powerful presence since the Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in 313 AD. Every city has churches (over 900 in Rome), and some have so many that it is hard to imagine there are enough people to fill them. In these modern times, they are tourist attractions, because of their architecture, ornate designs and materials, and the art that is found inside. You have to be here and see it to believe it. It is amazing and probably why visitors from other parts of the world, when they are in Italian cities like Florence, Venice, or Rome, sometimes swoon and feel like they are maybe losing their minds. This malady been studied and there is a scientific name for it, called Stendhal syndrome.
I like to browse into the churches, which are open and free to the public. As an example of Italian spiritual exuberance, in the center of Rome, the Piazza del Popolo with its circular plaza, has three major churches and there are two others within a couple blocks. The other day after I visited the Pantheon, a block away, I walked into a church, San Luigi dei Francesi, and was stunned to find it contained three major Caravaggio paintings that any museum in the world would die for.
Countless images and myriads of varied sensory experiences have gone into my consciousness and now live in memory. I have international friends. As I ponder this, I realize how awesome is the world and that I have a small understanding of it. Going inward, I do not comprehend the dimensions and working of my own body. Outwardly, even as I travel and gain new insights, I realize I am just touching an infinitesimally small portion of the earth and its life. Looking into space, I realize that the earth is only a speck in the universe and our universe is only a speck in eternity.
Next Saturday I leave for Tanzania.

The Eternal City

Rome is called “The Eternal City”, and there is a saying that “all roads lead to Rome.” These days, routes through the air bring travelers here and this is how I arrived from Paris. The weather is warm enough that I sweat during the day and cannot have any covering in bed at night. My apartment is within walking distance to St. Peter’s Cathedral and the Vatican. There is so much to see and immediately I went into the streets with my camera to get a dose of Roman life.

This is not my first time to Rome and yet, I  had the same experience of sudden awe and swooning when, as I turned a corner in the maze of downtown streets, I glimpsed the Parthenon, looking too big for its surroundings, nestled in a small plaza among newer buildings. It cannot be seen from afar. When suddenly, I turned a corner and arrived, it was like finding the lost ark—the presence of something different, special, and of major proportions; an important architectural antiquity over 2,000 years old in it’s original form. I had a similar experience at the Colosseum, but it stands next to the Roman Forum, towers over the neighborhood, and can be seen from afar, so the surprise is different.

Even though Rome is old, it is also trendy and stylish. I was amazed when I arrived out of the Metro at the Spanish Steps on Via Condotti and saw the luxury designer clothing boutiques lining each side of the street. Names like: Valentino, Gucci, Giorgio Armani, Prado, and Ferragamo. I saw my reflection in the windows of haute couture shops and felt almost embarrassed seeing myself dressed in blue jean shorts, safari hat and sandals. But then I thought, I am an artist and getting down and dirty on the streets . . . not trying to impress anyone with my looks (at the moment anyway.)

I have sixteen days in the “Eternal City” before leaving for Tanzania.

Travel Along The River Of Life

At times, as I travel along on the river of life, the sights and sounds are so fantastic and varied, that I realize they are impossible to grasp in entirety and I am missing vast territories. Paris is a great pastiche, and on a short walk along Rue de Rivoli, a major boulevard passing through Le Marais district, I noticed the fantastic variety of shops in just three blocks and jotted them down: music, flowers, clothing, biological beauty aids, currency exchange, bio food, pizza, fruit and vegetable market, honey shop, restaurants, optical, pharmacy, cheese shop, sushi, delicatessen, shoes, bread and pastry, wine shop, jams and marmalade, meats, furniture, toys, handbags, and more! Dazzling!

Paris people are fashion conscious—sophistication is important. Women like to accent femininity, and most wear dresses.

I have made two paintings and taken hundreds of street photographs. I also met Ange, a young American who is visiting Paris and models for artists. She is 27, and get this, she is a lawyer, a forensic psychologist, a painter, and speaks four languages. We visited the Rodin Museum together and looked closely at the sculptures to get ideas for poses, and then came back to my apartment where she modeled. The other museums I have been to this time in Paris are the Pompidou, Musée d'Orsay and Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris. Versailles is on my short list.

World-class cities like Paris have so many attractions that there is always something for everyone. When I leave after two weeks of visiting and working, I will have experienced some of what is offered and also missed much. In four days, I hit the trail again, to visit another famous place: Rome.
Click Paris Pics to seem some recent photos.

THE DREAM Unfolds

It is rather incredible how THE DREAM unfolds, always bringing astonishment and myriad surprises to my senses. Now I am in Paris, a sensory heaven. I have a fifth floor flat in a district called Le Marais, one of the oldest parts of the city. From here, it is easy walking to landmarks such as the Louvre and Notre Dame Cathedral. Most of the streets are cobblestone and filled with bars, restaurants, and shops offering fine clothing, art, delectable food and more. The apartment is small but comfortable and quiet, with a big window looking out to buildings and rooftops, and letting in plenty of light so I can do my artwork. This Sunday morning, I am writing at a desk by my open window and hear cathedral bells . . . a sound that enlivens my bones and uplifts my spirit.


Paris is expensive, but I am inspired by famous French élan and sophistication everywhere, so my creativity benefits and I can accept paying more during this portion of my travel. Gaiety is in the air . . . something I noticed on past visits. It is almost palpable. Maybe it is because the city offers so much history, nuance, and pleasure that people overflow with cheerfulness and excitement.
The late-summer air is perfect and the tourists are thinning out. My friend Frederique has given me some tips, including that I must visit Versailles. I have only been here two days, but there is so much to do, I am sure the two weeks I have planned will be an incredible dream that passes too quickly by.

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Ducking

Ducking. This word is an odd figure of speech that has different meanings, including: to lower the head or the body quickly to avoid a blow or so as not to be hit by something. I thought that the meaning must have evolved from the common description of a water bird with webbed feet, short legs, and a broad flat bill, found all over the world. Often, when this creature is on water, to feed, it will suddenly push its head down under the surface and then come back up. I have learned that the name for the bird, “duck”, comes from the action it imitates!
As I have to spend many hours photographing in the streets of cities, an occurrence happens regularly where people will see me at a spot with my camera pointed waiting to take a picture and they try to "duck" underneath and politely get past me. I am waiting to get people in my photo, so snap the picture as they go by. Now I have a sort of collection that I call ducking.



I have enjoyed my current apartment in a bohemian area of Berlin called Kreuzberg. The flat is across the street from a park, sunny and spacious, with all the amenities, including Internet, at less than half the cost of a hotel room. In Berlin, I have made five paintings, and by the time I leave will have taken a thousand photos. It is getting cooler, and my clothes are all for warmer weather, so Thursday I am “ducking” south to Paris, and from there will “duck” on down to Tunisia.

Click "artistic photography" to see Steven Boone photos from the streets of Berlin.

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.