Junioritis?

It seems like we're already running out of steam if we had any to start with this semester. It doesn't help that between creating portfolios, resumes, applying for internships, homework, and designing we don't leave the building except to go to the grocery store a block away.

Last time I was outside for a considerable period of time was on Saturday. I walked by the Collegio Romano simply because I could and it was my inspiration for my final project last semester. I also met a friendly cat in the process. I slew of warnings came to mind when I bent down to pet it but I found that my hand was already reaching out and touching its absurdly fluffy fur. I said "Heyyy!" and then apologized and amended the greeting to "Ciao! Come stai?". He meowed back but his accent was so thick that I wasn't sure if he understood me or if I just didn't understand him. Then I stopped in what seemed like half of the churches on Via del Corso and accidentally stumbled upon the one with St. Charles Borromeo's heart. Then I made an impromptu visit to Piazza del Popolo and got turned around in the Villa Borghese gardens. It was fun.

I look forward to future explorations outside this building when the weather gets nicer. On Friday we went to the forum and as we sat outside on the steps of the curia I stupidly remarked to a friend:
"I wonder why the sun makes people happy."
"I'm sure it's something chemical."
"Mm."
And we didn't question it any further but sat there next to a blight ridden laurel tree in content silence.

As for today there's not much that is exciting to report besides that a professor appeared to be wearing a new cravat. I'm inexplicably sleepy. I say inexplicably because I more or less slept in today after our makeup history class was postponed yet again due to "rain". Numerous people have come up to me today groaning about not knowing what to do with themselves or their lives. I groan with them. The proverbial towels are being thrown into the proverbial...laundry basket? I don't know. Where else do towels go?

At the beginning of studio my friends and I found ourselves looking up Nicholas Cage and Nigel Thornberry photoshopped onto things (you have been warned should you decide to look this up yourself) so that we could mindlessly laugh, question the state of the world, and remind ourselves that there are people out there arguably weirder than ourselves.

Stay safe. Stay weird. Stay ever caffeinated.

Adventures in Watercoloring

Professor: "That looks too yellow."
Me: "Yeah, I know."

Professor: "All this looks good but that over there disturbs me."
Me: "It disturbs me too."

Professor: "Make sure the reflected shadows fade out and have soft edges."
Me: *looks down at paper* "Uh, whoops."

That's just about how all of last Thursday went.
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"She couldn't draw at all, and however bright, the colour were in the tubes, by the time [she] had mixed them up, they came out a kind of khaki."

Sebastian Flyte (Brideshead Revisited)

Today blue and red kept making a green instead of purple. I don't really know how.
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We have a watercoloring class this semester which is the first of its kind I have ever taken in my life. I took art classes in high school and watercolored a tiny bit and then was thrown full force into it my first (sophomore) year at Notre Dame. I freaked out about the horrifying process of dumping water all over the paper you spent hours drafting on, stapling it mercilessly to a dirty piece of plywood, and then putting color to the paper. It still occasionally feels like an act of murder. Needless to say, that first project deserves a good bonfire along with all my other first semester sophomore projects.

I remember the first time I stepped into Bond Hall and saw a large rendering of a Corinthian capital on the wall. My initial reaction was "Oh no, I can't do that. That must take some natural talent." and soon after I thought, "Well, this is why it's an architecture school is it not?" Lo and behold. Three years and a couple of choices later I'm stuck in Rome. So, here's to hoping that we all continue to get better at the things we struggle with.

The Regular isn't Regular

This morning I went to mass at the English College, a hop, skip and one jump from our hotel. I either go there on Sundays or to the tridentine rite at S.S. Trinita. S.S. Trinita is beautiful and full of incense, Latin, reminders of home, gorgeous chant and vestments...and a sermon I can barely understand. On a regular day the sun beams through the dome almost always during the Credo and shines on the pendentive of St. Mark. The English College, however, gives me a chance to go to mass with a friend or two and understand the sermon which is preached in refreshing British accents. My weekly decision is based on these factors and time. Even though the masses are only an hour apart sometimes one more productive hour is all you need. Both churches are less than a five minute walk from each other and both have a painting of the Trinity above the altar. 

The English College. Today for Candlemas we had an procession with candles prior to mass.

After Mass I made a deliberate decision to stop into Alex Bar (the cafe some of us patronize) before going to studio. I feel like I tend to duck in there when it's raining but it does seem to rain a lot. In any event, it's a wonderful thing to be considered a regular in an Italian coffee shop. When I entered, the elderly owner, Alex himself, immediately smiled broadly at me. I typically don't say much but they give me the regular's discount on everything and to see the happiness on their faces is priceless. I know nothing about Alex, Ettore, and the other old man who works there and they know nothing about me besides that I am not Italian and almost always order a cappuccino. But it's nice all the same. 

S.S. Trinita dei Pellegrini

After the cappuccino I passed our old studio building which is something of a stark and empty shell at the moment. The Notre Dame plaque is gone and you can feel the silence from the outside but a hundred memories flood to mind. The large door next to the main entrance, for instance, makes me think of Michael Graves being wheeled in to the library/review space on the other side where nerve-wracking crits took place.

Dodging puddles, hopping zig-zaggedly across the uneven cobblestones I was still trying to get a palette at the art store...but it was closed (as it should be on Sunday). On the way to the bus stop I passed a church I had passed countless times before but today it was open. So I poked my head in for the first time because mass was going on.

For some reason I held back a smile the entire bus ride. I didn't necessarily need a reason to be happy. Maybe it was mass at the college today or the Domincans walking around the streets in their black and white habits or just the fact that I am living in Rome. I don't know, but I hope everyone else has a day full of spontaneously happiness.

P.S. Which is your preferred depiction of the Trinity?

Triangles, Time, Tea, Tiredness.

Life in Rome is progressing rapidly while, as rumours tell, back home is like Arendelle in "deep, deep, deep, deep snow"*. My desk is already a colorful, chaotic heap of trace, paints, cups of water, teabags, pens, tape - you name it. A tin Babar pencil case is functioning as my palette because the local art store is sold out of the palettes we were supposed to buy. I am perpetually tired but would rather be busy than bored.

I'm sitting here at my desk looking at the extremely rough beginnings of a parti and realized I am staring at something essentially like this:

The Deathly Villas

...and it probably makes no sense.

You could argue I've just been looking at this too long.

Switching gears before time gets too far ahead of me, I wanted to briefly list a few of my post-Christmas break thoughts in addition to what I wrote the other day.

1. I have an even greater appreciation for Rome after experiencing its influence in other countries. Whether I was at the Roman bath in Bath, England or the Brompton Oratory in London it was clear that hundreds of miles are no match for Rome's reach. 
2. Always travel by train when possible. You miss less that way and don't have to deal with security and possibly checking bags. 
3. People are the same everywhere. 
4. A good umbrella and map are invaluable. 
5. You're not going to see everything so appreciate what you do and don't stress too much about missing the rest. 
6. If there's something you really want to see and means a lot to you it is worth the time and money.
7. Always have a book with you but don't read it unless there's nothing to look at in your surroundings.
8. Realize that things can go unexpectedly wrong.  
9. Coffee shops and free WiFi are not only your friend but your lifeline. 
10. Don't take anything for granted. I'm pretty sure I am the most fortunate person alive.

So, there you go. Stay warm and safe if outdoors is predominantly buried in white fluffiness where you are. I've been in Italy so long that it's almost shocking to me that there could be snow affecting all of my friends and family. Then again, it's still a strange thought to think that there is an ocean and the whole of France, Spain, and Portugal between America and me. Hm. But it's also strange that there are only about 3.5 months left until I come home. Eesh. Where's the time going?

*Frozen discussion, references, and songs abound in my studio as of a few days ago. It's all stuck in my head so you'll have to excuse me. 

Moving Forward

I dug down into my bag to put away my sketchbook and micron and pulled out my umbrella in their place. Walking over the slick cobblestones I remembered that coldness seeps through a sweater and peacoat when one stands outside for three hours in the January rain in Rome. Our awesomely quirky and intellectual history teacher prattled on with stories and historical tidbits but, as it was nearing noon and I have what feel like a hundred responsibilities weighing on me, my mind drifted off and focused on one thought: hot chocolate. Hot chocolate has become inseparable from rainy days in Rome for me and right now I would love nothing more than to curl up with a mug and read to my heart's content.

The reality of this week, however, is more accurately an image of me drinking cup after cup of tea and staring into space struggling to focus, not to mention stay awake.

Martin Freeman is not quite a coincidence here. I empathized with Bilbo consistently throughout Christmas break when I was off on my own adventures (though they did not include dwarves, dragons, or wizards). If anyone can officially claim that they have backpacked solo across Europe I suppose I now can. Yes, excluding the few occasions when I met up with friends/studiomates I was alone. I went to Belgium, France, and England which totals to a small number of countries compared to my comrades but I saw many cities in each. First came the charm of Brussels, Bruges, and Ghent then followed by Amiens, Beauvais, and Paris. I took the Chunnel train to London and a few days later ventured to Cambridge, Oxford, Bath, Salisbury, and Canterbury.

There are pros and cons to travelling alone which I quickly figured out. At one point as I was rereading Jane Eyre I smiled out loud at a passage that I could identify with word for word.

"It is a very strange sensation to inexperienceed youth to fell itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensations, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half-an-hour elapsed and still I was alone. I bethought myself to ring the bell."

Charlotte Bronte

I could try recounting every thing I saw, building I touched, cuisine I tasted, person I met, or issue I encountered but I don't have time and that would sooner or later bore you. What I can hint at is my dumbstruck gratitude. I'm not really sure how to describe riding on a train through Flanders and realizing just how literally wonder full the world is from the dirt to the clouds. Salisbury may have articulated this best but if you want to know that story I would be more than happy to sit down over a cup of coffee in May and tell you. There's an impersonal touch to blogging that isn't suitable for the depth of these situations.

Anyways, I'm sure at some point all my stories will slip out in natural conversation. Right now having classes straight from 9:00-6:00 three days in a row is proving to be brutal on my body and brain so you'll have to forgive the pathetic nature of this update. I can't wait to get to the design portion of this project and a cup of Earl Grey because this fruity tea bag I acquired is pretty gross.

Arrivederci, Roma. I'll Be Home for Christmas.

Well, friends, my first semester in Rome has come to a close. Notre Dame's Rome studio building is being evacuated today, the keys have been turned in and all of our supplies are boxed up. It's a bit historic because the program has been going on for at least forty years. Those of us who haven't left Lazio yet are printing out boarding passes and booking confirmations, finalizing plans, eating leftovers, and talking and laughing while we're still here together. My hotel room looks like a complete disaster. I need to pack so I passed up a chance to see The Hobbit with friends tonight. Some of us are waking up around 3:30 am so we can eventually catch 6:40 and 7:00 flights.

Looking back on this semester I simultaneously can and can't believe we are half way through. The start was really rough. I remember when they ushered us into the lecture room with all the windows open and we strained to hear their introductions and just stay awake. There was the jet lagged first week and hurting, tired feet for the first month (or however long it took to break in my shoes and get used to the fast paced sprints after professors). Our schedules were messed up in every sense and we were introduced to the University of Miami students. There was the awkward and scary informal introduction to Michael Graves in the locker room. Chaos continued until that project ended. The extraordinarily fun and exhausting field trips to Tuscany and the Veneto happened. Jokes were made, stories formed, projects narrowly completed, and both headaches and laughter were had. Along with lots of gelato, of course.

During this past project there were some times while watercoloring when I was struck by the reality of the moment. It surprised me that I am a student at the University of Notre Dame studying architecture for a year in Rome and gratitude swelled inside of me. This truly is a wonderful opportunity and it is exciting to already see and feel the affects of learning since I've entered my third year of architecture.

It's odd to think that after all of this tomorrow I will be home. I'll only be home for a week (and then on to more adventures) but there still is a good taste of normalcy awaiting me. There will be lots of stories to tell and questions to answer. I'm already trying to figure out my response to "How has Rome been?" There isn't an easy or quick answer.

Saying goodbye to friends (or realizing that you've missed the chance to wish them a happy Christmas and good break) brings a sense of separation anxiety. It's the surrealism of Thanksgiving break amplified. We have been together day in and day out for so long that there's a sort of feeling of responsibility for their well-being. I cannot imagine graduation.

It hasn't hit me quite yet that I am actually leaving Rome absurdly early tomorrow. I'm really excited to see my family. I hope everyone else who has not journeyed home for Christmas has a safe trip. I hope there is still a lot of snow back home...

Anticipation.

Waiting is a daily part of life. Everyday at least twice I have to wait at the poorly timed crosswalks outside Sant'Andrea della Valle and hope not too many vehicles have chosen to run red lights. Then there are the three hour classes that drag on while we wait for the moment we are given leave to run back to studio.

It's a bit hard to focus on Advent with how rapidly the days are passing . I'm anxious for break when I see decorations and hear Christmas music in studio. It's also getting cold in Rome and now I'm anxious for snow weather. I can't wait to be done with my homework for all my classes. I'd really like to finish writing that post about Thanksgiving break. The list goes on. 

I have piles of trace on my desk with plans and elevations and oh, there would be sections if I had gotten on that. It's really hard to focus in general. Appropriately, Advent is just as much about focusing as it is about anticipating. It's not just mindlessly counting down the days and eating the chocolate in your Advent calendar to pass the time. I don't really have a solution for focusing mentally but it's at least helpful to be reminded to keep re-centering to stay on track.

So yeah, baby steps. Any lengthy playlist suggestions for plugging away during the next two weeks? Or favorite prayers for students?

How It Almost Happened

Today I was planning on waking up at 8-something and adventuring out beyond the studio and hotel doors. I woke up for my alarms but ignored them telling myself "It's Saturday. You need sleep after this week and today you can sleep in." So I did.

I got up around 10-something, came to studio to eat breakfast, then headed down Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. When I passed Chiesa Nuova I saw that the doors were open so I walked in. It's a bit embarrassing that I couldn't remember if I had set foot in Chiesa Nuova this trip because the interior of the church looked familiar-ish but not familiar enough. (Stroikian semi-sarcasm: They're all alike, right? You've seen one thermal window motif you've seen 'em all). Then I saw this:

And I remembered.

I was here as a kid. It was only a decade later when I stood outside with Michael Graves and went into the oratory library and watched the concentration on Professor Ingrid Rowland's face as she tried to read the Hebrew on the ceiling. Most of my memories from coming to Italy as a child are the tombs of saints. Churches blur together into nothingness (except St. Peter's and the Lateran) but I remember the relics.

There were a bunch of seminarians/priests walking around and as I began to head out of the church I happened to turn around and see a chasuble at this side altar. Not wanting to pass up this opportunity to attend Mass said over St. Philip Neri's body, I went back to the chapel and hesitantly stood there for a bit before kneeling down. It was a private mass and I felt awkward being the only person besides the priest and the seminarian serving. An elderly couple soon appeared and the three of us made up the congregation. At some point during all of this I realized that the priest wasn't speaking Italian but was speaking Latin. The server stumbled on the Confiteor and the priest had to help him a bit through the end of it. So I stumbled upon a Tridentine Mass at the altar of St. Philip Neri in Chiesa Nuova completely out of the blue. I was elated. The  elderly couple knew the Latin and before we sat down for the offertory the woman turned and smiled at me for some reason. Maybe she was happy that I knew exactly how to participate and wasn't confused by the Latin. The priest had such a French accent so all the Latin sounded Frenchified. It was great.

Everything was just beautiful until the personification of Italy walked in. A man holding a ridiculous handful of clanking skeleton keys told us to leave right in the middle of Mass. The church was "closed". During the middle of the offertory the church was closed and he wouldn't take no for an answer. We had to leave. So I did.

The elderly couple didn't know what nationality I was and I didn't know what nationality they were so we didn't really bother talking; however, we all exchanged looks that read something like "This is so, so stupid. Why is Italy so lame? Oh well. This was great while it lasted." They seemed like really nice people. Good old Universal Church.

After this I kept walking down the corso and went into the bookshop where I previously found the T.S. Eliot. I wanted to look at their prints because they sell a bunch for reasonable prices. I picked up some small prints because if you got a few it was cheaper and they are small enough not to get ruined on the trip home. 

  

In honour of hot chocolate escapades. Also that's some sweet lace.

I also saw another Caravaggio today...except it was a copy. I was looking at The Entombment of Christ in Chiesa Nuova and thought "This one is actually a bit disappointing." Then I noticed it was a copy from the late 1700's. Today hasn't been quite what I thought it might be but that's ok. There's always another adventure to be had tomorrow.

Naptime?

Part one of our current project was due today at 2 pm after our professors gave us an extension over the weekend. One might think that there would be ample time to complete it after being given three extra days but this is architecture we're talking about. Last night if you had walked past Sant'Andrea della Valle you would have seen a procession of 5' wooden boards being carried by architecture students back to the hotel. Popcorn was made for the occasion, we changed into shorts or pajamas, and each group set up on a different floor of the hotel. Yes, we will bypass the midnight closing of the studio even if we look ridiculous. There was much laughing last night. Too much actually. We went to bed at 4 am and squeezed in four hours of sleep before waking up for drawing class (which was very brutal). But everything turned out well with the project.

Today one of the professors said "I can't imagine that you guys would have taken your boards back to the hotel..." and the room erupted into nervous laughter because until that moment she didn't know that that was precisely what we did. There already has been a night when some of us stole the St. Mary's girls' study room in the hotel so that we could finish perspectives.

So, anyways, the work has not ended nor will it end until Christmas break. Right now a site visit to look at cafe precedent would be great...if you know what I mean.

Oh, random question to friends who are more proficient in Latin than myself: how would you say "the shade has been cast"? It's a bit of a story not worth explaining immediately and I'm rusty on my conjugations.

Caravaggio and Coffee. Monotony on Monterone.

1. A few days ago I took a break and walked to the Pantheon to stop by an ATM and then decided to keep walking because I had been sitting all day. It was the best "study" break you could ask for. I decided to enter the French church (St. Louis) just to absorb the Caravaggio paintings again. I stood in front of The Calling of St. Matthew and The Martyrdom of St. Matthew for a least ten minutes just taking it in. On the way back to studio I felt that it was a Sant'Eustachio cappuccino worthy day (or night...the sun had gone down but it goes down so early this time of year). How often can you just pop in to see Caravaggios and then get the best cappuccino in Rome before heading back to your desk?

The side chapel where these paintings are is incredible. I find it most striking that the two paintings face each other. On the left you have Jesus picking a surprised St. Matthew out to follow Him and on the right you have the same man dying a martyr's death because he chose to accept the call. I'd love to analyze and talk about these paintings but my time and concentration is short. 

2. It's always unnerving when you aren't stressed during a project...in fact it can be more stressful because then you start wondering what is wrong and why you aren't stressed. You begin anticipating what horrible things are going to occur. This being said, I still haven't felt actually stressed. I think that's due to the fact that we're still doing group projects so all the pressure isn't just on me.

3. Some of us have decided that we are part of a social experiment. We think our lives are like The Truman Show. All the professors are in on it except one of them. It makes a lot of sense actually.

4. Today I reached the Pink Floyd stage of the project. There inevitably comes a time before the project deadline when I turn on Pink Floyd and avoid as much as possible any distractions, outside noise, and conversations. At least I wasn't listening to "Echoes" while staring into a light table during the middle of the night because that happened last year and it was trippy.

5. I was feeling inexplicably irritated tonight, really irritated, so I walked outside to get out of the building. I went to Santa Maria Sopra Minerva and Mass was going on in a side chapel. A schola was chanting during communion time and they sounded beautiful. When I approached our studio building on my way back I saw the NAC seminarians standing outside waiting to get in so I unlocked the door for them. I'm so glad it was Monday because they brought both physical and spiritual nourishment of sorts (though the physical nourishment was American junk food and also my dinner for the night). I'm getting tired of being around the same 40-some people day in and day out in the same building so it's refreshing to have even the slightest contact with outsiders. It was great hearing about the importance of the relationship between prayer and work in an Australian accent. It's just a break from the monotony on Monterone.

6. I'm really tired but too tired to go to bed so while we still have 30 minutes until studio closes I'm stretching my legs out and staring into the distance. We've been painting on the floor kneeling on wood and staples for the past few days. I spilled some of the color for the John Cabot building in our plan and said, "Noooo, John Cabot, why?" so that's a sign it's bedtime.

Electro Italia Swing Routine

We wove our way through the streets of Trastevere, still slick from rain and alive with lights and throngs of people. I was blindly following my friends who knew the place where we were going to knit. When we stepped into the threshold of an Italian bar the smell of incense hit me like a brick and it was impossible not to notice the artsy jewelry, tea pots, handbags, etc. that they were selling. Can you say quirky? I followed them downstairs to a basement where they had couches and chairs, books lining the shelves, and more overwhelming incense sticks. We sat down and I picked up an old, Italian copy of Richard II sitting next to me. Then I noticed the music. I started laughing and was told "They always play stuff like this. It's really weird and hilarious." "What IS it? It's like a remix of 1920's music with modern techno." We eventually asked the waitress and she came back with a piece of paper that said "electro Italia swing routine" and told us it was a Youtube playlist. It reminded us of The Great Gatsby soundtrack so we talked about the movie for a bit while knitting. As we continued listening we came to the conclusion that it would make a great playlist for rendering large washes on a final project.

Yes, all of this is a true story. This was the second time I have joined in knitting with rebellion and frustration in unlikely public places while, in the words of Jane Austen, we "make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn". Welcome to our lives.  

This one is a remix of the song "You Rascal You".