Spring Hath Sprungeth

In Syracusa, Sicily when we were eating our typical cheap grocery store lunch on the side of the duomo I sighed "I'm tired. I feel like I'm always tired."
"Like weary? A general sense of weariness?" my friend asked.
"Yeah. That's it." There was a pause. Then as if I forgot something important on the kitchen table and was about to walk back and retrieve it I added simplistically, "I need to go home."
"Tell me about it."

That paints a fairly bleak picture of the state of affairs but in reality those moments are engulfed by the tasks at hand. The wonderful thing about being here right now is the sunlight. Sunlight really does have a lot to do with happiness. Yes, I am inside on a warm, sunny day because the thought of crowds of tourists is the opposite of appealing to me. However, the light penetrating the windows and blinds is enough to remind me that spring is here with all its joyful anticipation.

Before I go back to designing I'd like to share the two latest music obsessions: There Will Be Fireworks and Andrew Bird.

The former is a Scottish band from Glasgow that a friend introduced me to outside of "Plato's cave" in Sicily. I've listened to their album The Dark, Dark Bright an average of once a day for the past week. There's something that resonates deeply in a Mumfordian way recalling the spring of my senior year of high school when I binged on Sigh No More more than I've ever binged on any album prior or since.

It's hard to find much information about them because of their indie-ness but I'm intrigued after hearing  their songs "Ash Wednesday" and "In Excelsis Deo".

Andrew Bird's name is not new to me and I listened to a few of his songs years and years ago but for whatever reason I did not awaken to the thoughtful brilliance of his songs until sometime last month. If Youtube videos are any indication, I prefer his live performances to his studio recordings. Science, psychology, mythology, philosophy...he thinks about a range of topics and applies his thoughts to music. His explanation of his songs are fascinating because I have yet to run across a song of his that doesn't have some specific story or concept behind it.  Who writes a song about exiling all your stuffed animals ("your close advisers") as a toddler from your bed thereby establishing autonomy? (Apparently this happened.)

Oh, and he has an early instrumental version of his song "Eyeoneye" called "Oh Baltimore" and covered the blues song "Grinning In Your Face" so, bonus points for that.

My family acquired a violin through another family in our homeschooling years and it has been sitting in its case in my bedroom for years. Between my early exposure to folk and classical music and concerts at the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra as a kid I decided I wanted to learn violin. It didn't happen for several reasons. I taught myself guitar instead, kept playing piano, toyed around with mandolin, and now I think it's time to at least make an attempt. The idea of holding it like a mandolin and strumming the strings either comforts or fools me into thinking that it can't be so hard to pick up. Either way, life's too short to let that violin collect dust. La Città Eterna has been giving me plenty of thoughts like that.

Polyphony In the Cave

This morning at Mass the haunting echo of sung Greek filled the cold shell of space lit by a few candles and the damp day's faint light. In reality it was the Kyrie at S.S. Trinita in Rome but in my mind it was an Easter vigil in the magnificent grotto of Plato's cave. When we were in Sicily last week we went into the same cave that Plato and Caravaggio set foot in and it was one of the most poetic spaces I have ever experienced. Caravaggio said that the shape of it resembles a human ear and it was the ear that we first tested within. The acoustics in the cave are spectacular and we wandered through singing softly to ourselves and wishing that we were either completely alone or in unison to test the full strength of its power. The polyphony today in the darkness of the church reminded me of this experience and the words of Aquinas:

Taste, and touch, and vision, to discern Thee fail;

Faith, that comes by hearing, pierces through the veil.

I believe whate'er the Son of God hath told;

What the Truth hath spoken, that for truth I hold.

On this side of the veil we see shadows flicker on the cave wall in the "vale of tears". As hermits living in an apathetic world we seek strength by consuming "bread" in a "cave". Wasn't it in Bethlehem, the House of Bread, that a cave provided more for humanity than anything before? Plato, Caravaggio, the Gospel of John, Aquinas, Dante, and anything or anyone who has ever tried to express Light and Darkness, Truth and Hearing all poke at the indescribable beauty that can be found in this cave. 

Whether it is the cave in Bethlehem or the cave of Christ's tomb the cave seems to have a deep connection to the origins of something closely knit to human life. In G.K. Chesterton's book The Everlasting Man he spends two entire eloquent chapters on this very topic (which you should go read now if you never have). In the deliciously witty

Chestertonian way he speaks of the caveman and civilization and later of "God in the Cave". The caves of prophets, hermits, and saints were not escapes from life but were for escaping towards life. It isn't shutting oneself into the ignorant life of confined shadows but emerging to "see the world hanging upside down" as St. Francis, Chesterton, and Marcus Mumford all can relate.

"The man who went into the cave was not the man who came out again; in that sense he was almost as different as if he were dead, as if he were a ghost or a blessed spirit. And the effects of this on his attitude towards the actual world were really as extravagant as any parallel can make them. He looked at the world as differently from other men as if he had come out of that dark hole walking on his hands."

~ G.K. Chesterton St. Francis

When we enter the cave and listen we cannot come out the same person again if we have really entered to find something and have really listened and understood in the uncomprehending darkness.

Ain't Nobody Got Time

11:17 am I woke up for the third or fourth time this morning and jolted out of bed and the strange dreams I was having. "It's so late. How long has it been since I slept in this late?" I asked myself. Leaving the albergo and turning the corner at Sant'Andrea I saw what I hope to see every morning - the 87 bus stopped at a red light. I picked up my pace to meet it at the bus stop but as I was mid sprint I realized some woman was trying to ask me directions to Piazza Navona. I stopped and told her in broken Italian, gesturing a left turn but saying "a destra". "A sinistra?" "Si, si, si! (Yes, I knew that. That's what I meant. I swear, lady, I'm not that ignorant, just tired.)". I don't know what happened to the 87 bus but I caught a 571 that happened to be at the stop. Unfortunately the driver took the long route to the Colosseum but fortunately the bus was basically empty as far as Italian buses go. I reflected on the fact that when we learned about directions in Italian class it has been more useful not for us asking for directions but giving them. The "sinistra" scenario played out in my head a couple of times before I rushed into studio.

Our project is due on Ash Wednesday so we have entered that time when studio is full but hushed. Everyone is plugged in, bent over giant white sheets of paper, brief glances become a form of communication in themselves...we are tired, obsessed (with either perfection or artfully fudging everything), and anxious. I feel guilty for writing this on a lunch break but maybe I'll be more focused after I drink the coffee I just made. Now begins the dark dinnerless days when no one wants to buy ingredients, cook, and clean so we stop eating formal meals and end up with whatever can be eaten at our desks. Don't even think about "eating out".

We have entered the time of "whatever works works". I start listening to whatever doesn't distract me be it strange or beautiful or both. I realized today that "Let It Go" hasn't been stuck in my head for a few weeks but since I have entered into the one-track-mind mindset I searched out repetitiveness. After the multilingual, instrumental, mashup, instrumental mashup, tribal, single, google translate, fingerstyle ukulele, fingerstyle guitar, masculine, and, of course, original versions that has been remedied and I think I've just lost all appetite. If anyone wants to trade places for a few days I'd take all the snow if you finished and presented this project for me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much less than 12 hours before studio closes.

Allora.

This morning I got to Mass a little late and seated myself in the very last pew where the kneelers start getting funky because clearly they are leftovers from devotional altars. (By the way, never build a kneeler with a deep slanted board for your knees unless you are going for penitential endurance.) I came in during the lengthy epistle but many people came in afterwards including a family of six who sat directly in front of me. Their youngest, redhead baby kept smiling adorably at me with wide blue eyes.

Afterwards I stopped in a cafe I had never been to for an espresso and noted an increase in Americans around the city. The walk from Campo dei Fiori to the Colosseum is infinitely more pleasant in good weather than a bus ride so I walked to studio. In the grocery store I heard little Italian kids telling their parents what to buy and then begging to leave. I quickly made bruschetta for lunch with tomato, zucchini, mushrooms, and pancetta that ended up being really very good.

On my way up the stairs I noticed the terrace door was open. I stepped through the threshold onto the sunny patio and took in the accordion music from the street below, the laundry hanging on the colorful apartments and the clear blue sky and wondered what it would be like to return home to suburban normalcy. If there's one thing I've learned from studying abroad it is that there is something to be appreciated no matter what side of the ocean you are on.

The field trip to Naples was, as all field trips are, fun. We were not able to go to Paestum because it rained daily except for the day we spent at Pompeii. Naples itself is everything everyone says it is: dirty, dangerous, gritty, and quirky. The mountains of trash on the sidewalks make Rome look almost pristine. Every night we ate the best pizza in the world though. The first night we went to Da Michele, the pizzeria apparently visited by the writer of "Eat, Pray, Love" and Julia Roberts portraying her in the movie. That doesn't mean anything to me having neither read the book nor seen the movie but the crust there was the best pizza crust I have ever eaten. Food is food - it tastes really good or bad and you move on with life - but this pizza was SERIOUSLY GOOD.

We saw more jaw dropping marble than ever before on floors and walls. There was an altar rail with huge inset precious stones and white, curling marble like the breaking crests of waves. Our theology professor, a priest from the Vatican, met up with us when we saw the oldest baptistery in the western world. Our professors also made sure we tried the local pastries that they kept recommending.

Naples at sunset. 

I hesitate to say the last day was a throw away day but we spent the entirety of the morning at a random museum and were all bored to death after slowly perusing its two floors for hours on end. On the bus ride back I shifted in and out of sleep. When I could no longer rest in any mildly comfortable position I gazed out the window and tried not to think about being cold and my hunger manifesting itself in a dull headache. I turned my face towards the sun whenever it was fleetingly present and observed my professors sitting in the two rows in front of me. One propped up a thick paperback as a pillow against the window. The other seemed to be in the same boat as myself, caught between the ability to sleep and stay fully conscious. Southern Italian mountains, countryside, vineyards, telephone lines, ugly sprawl, humble houses, and vegetation rolled by. I recalled a conversation earlier in the day with two classmates about how we can't accurately convey our gratitude to our peers. Really, we could be in the middle of Siberia in the heart of winter and I would be comforted being with these professors that we respect so much. As my classmates and I know, this education is completely worth it if just for the mentors we have. I more fully understand why you cannot spend a year abroad and not come back a person changed for the better.

Working Hard or...

Since today is Monday the NAC seminarians came at 8 o'clock to hang out and talk. Afterwards we clearly did not want to get back to work because none of us budged from the couches. Two of them hadn't been able to come to the Monday sessions this semester so we then offered to give a tour of the new building that they were seeing for the first time. After successfully procrastinating and squeezing in a few more minutes of jokes and conversation, they said goodnight and we tromped morosely up the stairs humorously whining about returning to our designs. Obviously I haven't quite gotten back to work yet.

Last week was a blur like all the weeks before. A friend came into town on a field trip so we were able to meet up twice this weekend. We ate the best gelato ever, avoided dragging out drawing assignments, were amused by melting pediments in the rococo church, and sort of maybe talked ourselves out of buying this beautiful coat that we both liked. That was about all the excitement I've had besides shifting deadlines and the sun making a steady appearance for three days in a row. The next round of excitement comes in the form of a field trip to Campania lasting from Wednesday to the end of the week. For those curious, that entails Naples, Paestum, and Pompeii.

Ok, back to work. There are only two more hours left to work before it is midnight. Eesh. Oh, and we just received a campus email about free Chipotle. I'm going to go cry over my desk now.

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...