For Sale

St. Paul's Cathedral, London

Acrylic on canvas

The month of January has centered around this painting. My dear friend Chad commissioned the work for his wife, and one of my dearest, dearest friends, Emily. Because they're both so important to me, and because of what this painting represents, I spent the entire month hopped up on caffeine and with paint under my fingernails.

Emily spent one complicated year in England without Chad. To live in London is an amazing opportunity--especially for a historian like herself. I was thrilled, we could talk nearly every day on Skype which was more often than we'd been able to talk in years. She often talked about the beautiful streets she explored or little day-trips she took with her classmates. I could tell she loved living in London just as much as I love living in Madrid. However, she missed Chad and her two sweet dogs horribly (and our Molly, of course). Though Chad was able to visit several times and they had a wonderful time exploring together, it wasn't enough. She returned home relieved to have the ordeal over with but with the landscape of London still haunting her.

Chad decided that Emily needed something very London-y and he and I conspired to bring this painting to life. St. Paul's Cathedral was just up the street from the Starbucks where Emily worked during her year abroad. She loves this building so much and would often tell me about how much she loved it. It was such a trip to paint a commission that had so much significance to someone's life and so many fun memories in the history of their relationship.

Partly because I'm also doing a project of paintings of my nephews, partly because of this commission, and with interest from another friend who'd like a painting of his parents, I'm for sale. I like painting things that have meaning for my clients. I like thinking about how they might see the painting, what memories it might kick up. And as much as I love teaching, I love staying up late into the night with my mugs of warm coffee and smooth tunes on my stereo. I like taking breaks from painting and glancing out my balcony window. I like organizing my painting materials and racing around the city for supplies. I liked finally breaking out of my obsession with the organic and challenging myself with the strict lines of a cityscape. I love it all.

I'm for sale, people. Commission me.

Will we be ready?

Imogen Heap and the smell of vanilla in my flat. Water on, tea to make. My feet still in my boots and my keys nearby. Like I might change my mind and go out after all. There are people to meet, friends to visit, but the winter air outside--so warm at midday--has cooled to a crisp bitter edge that sneaks through the cracks and crevices until my little apartment is cool and lonely.

I like lonely weekend nights at home. I like to step out on my balcón and peek up and down the street. I like to eavesdrop on the little groups of people smoking outside the bar below me. I like to spy on the handsome neighbor as he works on his computer across the way. I like the silence, the solitude, and the life throbbing below me.

After three, the bars on Palma close their grates halfway and only the regulars, the friends, and the possible shags are allowed to stay. The street quiets and darkens. Groups of friends stumble drunkenly past my balcony, not bothering to lower their voices or glance upwards. Teenage boys sing raucously while marching at the command of their hazing upperclassmen. University students find the bricked in stoop across the way and settle down to botellón with their joints and liter bottles of Mahou.

Looking down Acuerdo, above the streetlamps and solitary walkers, I can see the ambient glow of Gran Via and the angel's wings spreading protectively out above the rows of buildings. What a beautiful city. What a beautiful night.

Winter Light--Dia de Los Reyes

C/Mayor from the upstairs window of La Mallorquina. First time ever that I'd been there when the dining room was empty. So odd!

My friend Brian and I decided to go for a walk on King's Day to celebrate our love for photography and his new camera purchase. We went to La Mallorquina first (I needed coffee), then to Maoz (I needed falafel) and then finally to the Botanical Gardens. It was such a contrast from the packed Sol and APRECA. Such beautiful light, such a natural setting, and the beautiful Madrid light presiding over it all.

Bufkin walking in the lovely winter light.

Paseo del Prado fountain.

C/Preciados on my way home.

Salamanca con Enrique

This weekend I visited my friend and former teacher, Enrique. Last spring he was my Spanish teacher--much to my delight and his chagrin (my Spanish grammar is atrocious). I loved his classes because they combined culture and practicality, art and literature, and always a lot of enthusiasm. I took him up on his offer to visit Salamanca just in time, he's moving to Australia this month to work at a university.

So many churches, I lost track of this tower.

This building has an old and creepy story. The story goes that a beautiful woman lived inside. Her husband was a jealous creature and for good reason. She had many male visitors in the town and he began hide in a narrow street beside the house and slay the would-be suitors as they passed on their way to visit his wife. The house is decorated with skulls.

One of the Duquesa de Alba's many palaces. I live near her Madrid home. Google her, she's quite the character.

Casa de las Conchas.

More graffiti.

I couldn't resist a picture of the art building with a cute little scooter outside.

Enrique, checking to see if he'd missed anything. I couldn't have had a more thorough and fantastic guide.

This time was the first time I thought Enrique was messing with me. He said, "now you have to find the frog." Good grief. With a lot of help and a little prodding, I was able to spot the little sapo. This is the façade of the Old University.

This monument celebrates a Friar of the Dominican faith, Fray Luis de León, in the Patio de las Escuelas. It faces the old university. He went to prison for defying the church during the Inquisition. After returning to the university, years later, he began his lecture by saying, "Decíamos ayer..." effectively ignoring his years of absence in continued strength of character.

A beautiful courtyard. I love the archways.

Get your heads out of the gutter, hermanos. The sign means "keep off."

I just couldn't get over the 15th century graffiti. Kent, you would have loved the ligatures in the graffiti.

I love free-standing walls--after the demolition and before reconstruction. Like the façade was caught in purgatory.

Just outside the Civil War archives. This museum was where Franco kept all the records of his regime and the war. We were there just before closing, but Enrique guided me to the back, where they had reconstructed a Mason ceremonial chamber. Franco had dissolved the Spanish Masons but I suppose he kept all their memorabilia. It was super creepy, replete with iconography, symbolism, and one mannequin sporting a hood with eyeholes (like a KKK hood without the point). *shiver*

Mira, Jamie! The old cathedral next to the new one. The old is Romanesque, the new is late Gothic. The Romanesque looks almost cartoonish next to the strict lines of the gothic.

Months ago, when Enrique was my teacher, he brought to class a lesson about the famous work of Calixto y Melibea. This is the famous story of two lovers, Melibea and Calixto set up by a sassy matchmaker, Celestina. Of course, the two lovers suffer a horrible fate. He had me read the soliloquy of Melibea's father --who laments and curses love as the bringer of all life's pain and agony. Thanks Enrique... for dashing all my hopes of love, truuuuueee love. This monument celebrates Celestina: "I am an old woman who God made not worse than anyone else. If I live well or badly, God is the witness to my heart."

This is the garden where the two lovers in the play spend one of the acts. It was so quiet and I can easily imagine two lovers sneaking away under the shadow of the Cathedral and the dappled light of the trees.

For Mom: check out those flying buttresses!!

Somehow I didn't get any good pictures of the place where Satan supposedly lived, but I believe the picture above was taken from one of its towers. Satan made a deal with one of Salamanca's residents that he would teach her necromancy if she would just give him someone to possess. The crafty fellow tricked Satan and left the devil with just his shadow but kept his soul.

For Enrique, who loves the romanesque window.

Enrique pointed out this lovely scene. Good eye!

Plaza Mayor. Much less touristy than Madrid's and on a main thoroughfare of the city. Enrique said that he would pass through this plaza on his way to and from the university. A main meeting point for the people of Salamanca.

All of the coin-shaped busts in Plaza Mayor depict important Spanish academics, politicians, and religious leaders. Some are left empty. I put in my vote for Enrique's bust. My bust is off limits. Ha.

The School of Philology--the study of languages. This is where Enrique and his parents studied. During the school terms, the steps are full of students.

A Belén.

Beautiful courtyard, impossible not to look up at the gargoyles.

In the setting sun, the already ginger stone began to glow.

Enrique took me to this fantastic little bar. The decor was funky and antique and there was a treasure chest of peanuts to scoop from. Need I say more?

Enrique prioritizing which places were most interesting, open, and awesome.

Discussing candles, Kubrick, and cameras.

Inside somewhere... I lost track... help me find myself!

The sun setting on the sandstone was so pretty I wanted to slurp it all up. You know, drink in all the honeyed light like a hot toddy on a cold winter's day.

Touching the conejo (rabbit) for good luck.

Inside the Convento de San Esteban (correct me if I'm wrong, Enrique).

It was in this convent that many of the discussions surrounding the exploration and conquest of the New World took place. One of the monks argued that the native peoples of the New World must have souls, thus setting a foundation for the rights of native peoples. Of course, the opulent use of gold in the chapels indicates that those rights were flexible.

The entire interior of the sanctuary glowed gold.

Gorgeous stairway.

Yes, you get to look at the ceiling. But you must also admire your own self.

Enrique, about to be executed by a swift stroke of my... camera. Te he he!

The cross that stands authoritatively over the execution stone.

The Art Deco/Nouveau house: Casa Lis. I went crazy over the beautiful ironwork and stained glass.

Rio Tormes.

Roman bridge, looking towards the cathedral and other churches. Also the site of another of Salamanca's great literary tales. This one of a small boy apprenticed to blind men (kind of like a seeing-eye-dog). I have a lot of reading ahead of me!

Another view.

Looking into Plaza Mayor.

Enrique will hate me for posting this picture, but we both look so much happier that I couldn't resist.

Plaza Mayor in full Christmas splendor.

I had a fantastic time in this gorgeous city. Enrique showed me all his college haunts, including the nightlife. We even had some lunchy tapas and cañas with his mom, who can out-talk just about anyone I've met.(I know, that's a bit ridiculous coming from me of all people.) It's always fun to meet your friend's parents and family to see where they came from and how they interact. Not to mention, a great way to get to know Enrique better. Altogether, it was a well needed and much appreciated break from painting, city life, and the solitude of my last days of Christmas vacation. ¡Gracias, Enrique!