The Last Days of Pompeii

A friend who could not take the time off work gave me her member tickets to see Pompeii and the Roman Villa: Art and Culture around the Bay of Naples at LACMA (Los Angeles County Art Museum). I invited TL to go with me on April 30.
When I visited Italy in 2005 (was it really that long ago?) one of the reasons I picked that particular Globus tour was because I wanted to see Pompeii. Our tour guide turned out to be mediocre on his good days and one of the many disappointments was that several people on the tour asked to get to Sorrento earlier than scheduled (to which he acquiesced). This meant a hurried trip to Pompeii.
(However, I do want to say that despite our guide, I had a great time visiting Italy and would take that same tour again in a second.)
Even worse was that the local guide spent 45 minutes of our time standing in one spot giving us a history of Pompeii when we could have been walking around seeing the place for ourselves. I wandered off, missing most of the information. So one day before leaving the planet for good, I have to go back on my own.
But happily, the exhibit at LACMA gave me the opportunity to make up for what I missed on that tour—and much more.
On my last day in Rome by myself, and after my travel companion left, I was able to visit the National Museum. Among other magnificent treasures, I saw room after room of frescoes rescued from Roman villas. And many magnificent floor mosaics laid out as they were meant to be seen, horizontally. I'll never forget that experience.
The LACMA exhibit is eclectic in its selection of art objects from sculptures to frescoes. Approximately one hundred and twenty items make up the exhibit, giving an impressive example of the art enjoyed by the wealthy Romans of that era. As far as archaeology goes, the Roman Empire happens to be my favorite period. If we have multiple lives, I must have lived in that time as I always feel so much at home when surrounded by the art and artifacts of that era.
After returning from my trip to Greece, I took a class in the UCLA Archaeology Program in 2008 entitled Art at the Getty Villa, one of the most enjoyable classes in the program. It was taught by Kenneth Lapatin, Associate Curator of Antiquities at The J. Paul Getty Museum, who happens to be the guest curator for this exhibit at LACMA. I had the opportunity in that class to talk about one of the mosaics at the Getty Villa as well as researching the production of ancient glass.
I was a little disappointed that only one mosaic was represented at the LACMA exhibit, as that art form was such an important part of Roman life (but at least it was displayed horizontally!). However, there was a nice representation of glassware from the Getty collection.
As a LACMA member myself I am fortunate that I will have a second opportunity to view the Pompeii exhibit again before it closes. In the meantime I am reading the catalog that I just had to buy. By the time I return in August I hope I will have been able to read it from cover to cover—I am well on my way.
If you have any interest in the Roman Empire at all (and I find it hard to believe that would eliminate anybody!) you must make the effort to see the Pompeii exhibit.
After seeing the exhibit I rented the 1935 movie The Last Days of Pompeii. It was pretty hokey by today's standards but it offered some groundbreaking special effects and gave some insight into how tough life was for the average citizen during that time. And who knew Preston Foster was such a hunk? {:>)
Out of their ashes we have learned so much...
(Photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Kaypro, oh dearest Kaypro

I missed my Kaypro for twenty five years.

Laid off from my corporate job as construction manager when the independent oil industry went belly up, I spent one glorious summer in 1985 as a housewife growing, bottling, freezing, and cooking my own vegetables for an unappreciative husband (no matter how accomplished I became it was NOT his mommy's cooking)—and writing short stories. On my Kaypro. Mostly science fiction. That was my escape from the life in which I found myself trapped.

Back in those days I had no sense of self-worth or self-esteem so every rejection slip became the death knell for that particular story. Quite a few piled up. So, of course, I gave up. What was I supposed to do? I retreated to corporate life, my CPM Kaypro became an IBM AT and a Microsystems XT and a 286 and a 386 and so on... My divorce was finalized and life drudged on.

But that Kaypro will always be a part of me. It lives under my desk as a foot rest. I have all the original manuals and floppy disks. I've tried to get rid of it but it won't go away. And most of you (with the exception of one person, I know) are going "What the H is a Kaypro?"

Kaypro was one of the very first personal computers. It ran on an operating system called CPM. It very nearly became the OS you would be using today, except somebody else had more tenacity than the guy who owned that system, and while he became dust because he didn't show up for a meeting, the guy with a whole lot more hutzpah, Bill Gates, made it into the winning circle. Sometimes life is determined by tiny decisions.

Anyway, my Kaypro had a 5-inch screen and a keyboard that clipped to the front of the computer so I could carry it around like a suitcase. There was no hard drive but two slots for floppy disks. One drove the program, the other was the working disk.

So I spent that summer writing my short stories and poems in my room (we had a three-bedroom house so we could each have our own office) or in the kitchen or outside on the deck. Despite other problems, it was probably the best summer of my life. I was out of corporate life and being my own creative self. I guess in some way, I have been trying to get back there ever since.

So, warp speed, Scotty, to 2009 (yes, I AM going to see the new Star Trek movie this week) and here I am, sitting out on my deck on a May evening surrounded by my geraniums, writing this post on the re-incarnation of my Kaypro: my HP laptop. I bought it last year because my ancient desktop computer is showing its age and I could not afford to be computer-less. But it has now become such an important part of my life I couldn't imagine living without it.

(The neighborhood flock of parrots just flew squawking overhead—I would have missed that if I was writing this indoors!)

So, what does this have to do with art, exactly? Well, I was going to write about the Pompeii exhibit I saw recently at LACMA but I got slightly side-tracked, didn't I? Please stay tuned for that report!

Hand-Painted Ceramic Tiles 101

Several people have asked me for a tutorial on painting tiles to install in their bathrooms or kitchens or to make trivets to give as gifts. So here goes with Installment One.

To start, a little background: I first began painting tiles when a potter friend (okay, a boyfriend) had some nice, shiny tiles lying around, some old glaze and one huge kiln (and several smaller ones) in his garage. It seemed like a fun thing to do, so why not?

I think I was hooked from the first brush stroke on that tile. His tiles were already glazed (like the ones you buy at Home Depot) so I didn't need any clear glaze to create a hard coating.

Doing it this way the colors are not at their brightest, but that was okay with me. So after we broke up, not knowing any better, I continued to paint on previously glazed tiles.

Other interests came and went in my life and it was several years later that I decided to get back into painting tiles again as I found I missed that kind of art. I took a couple of classes at Culver City Adult School, and with my (now) friend Lori Escalera with the Parks and Recreation Department, as I didn't have my own kiln at the time. By then I was painting on bisque (once fired) tiles, not twice-fired, glazed tiles.

One thing I learned from Lori was to make a sample palette. So that is where we will start in Installment Two, and I'll share the rest of my tile-painting adventures with you then.

I usually work on 6-inch square bisque tiles. I buy all my tiles and supplies from Aftosa but there are local suppliers who I am told are cheaper—you'll have to check this out for yourself—and certainly a ton of stores on the internet.

I use only Mayco Stroke & Coat Wonderglaze because that's what I'm used to, and I know what to expect from that brand. There are many other brands to choose from; again, that's up to you to check out. Some fun, trippy glazes for weird and wondrous results are Mayco Chunkies, Elements and Crystalites, but that's a whole other story that maybe I'll tell after the tutorials (gives you something to look forward to, eh?).

As for brushes, my favorites are found at Aftosa, Red Pointer Brushes. Again, you can probably find these locally at an art supply store. For more detailed work I use whatever watercolor or acrylic brushes I find necessary. I'll talk about some of those later on.

After all the decorative painting is done, I use two coats of a Duncan clear glaze. But we'll get into that later. I'll post a complete list of supplies somewhere along the line so you will be all set to get started on your own project.

In the meantime, you may want to think about what your subject will be (this is, hands down, the hardest part!). My favorites are cats, my travels, wetlands (birds, trees and plants) and the ocean (as in fish).

See you next time!

(photo and design copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Castle Howard Visited

Brideshead Revisited (made in 1981) is one of those made-for-British-TV masterpieces that will never be equaled, in my opinion. While I enjoyed the 2008 movie version, I was not as captivated emotionally by the characters as I was in the TV version. Having never read the book, I have no idea which version was truer to the author's intention, but I know what I like!

However, the one "character" that still stood up over the span of 27 years was the building that "played" Brideshead in both versions—Castle Howard. Castle Howard is located a few miles north of the city of York (where my Dad was born) in Northern England. It is not a castle in the strict sense of the word—it is not a fortress and there are no turrets to shoot bows and arrows. Built for the 3rd Earl of Carlisle around the turn of the 18th Century, it is one of England's famous stately homes.

On April 25th I attended the lecture at the Getty Villa, Bringing It All Back Home: Grand Tour Collections at Castle Howard in the 18th Century, with the curator of the art collections, Christopher Ridgway.

I was all set for a rather boring, informational lecture, but as I had previously seen the three Roman portrait busts on display at the Villa (which I wrote about previously), I was interested to learn about the rest of the collection.

When the lecture ended more than an hour later I was disappointed—I wanted it to continue for another hour. I was delighted, captivated and intrigued! As well as discussing the fine art collection and the travels of the Howard family (and Rover, the dog) we were treated to an exploration of other facets of maintaining a stately home such as remodeling the toilets and managing the beef herd (and managing those unruly herds of tourists, too!).

As I was leaving the Getty I was ready to drive straight to the airport and hop on a plane to Yorkshire. Castle Howard is now definitely on my short list of places to see in the near future.

In the days subsequent to the lecture I have planned the trip in my head. I am going to stay in that small hotel near Paddington Station (where KJ and I spent a couple of nights on our way to Greece two years ago) and "do" as many museums and galleries in London as I can manage in a week: The V&A, British Museum, National Gallery, the Tates. Then I will travel to Sussex to visit Fishbourne Palace where some wonderful Roman mosaics have been uncovered. Then travel north (all this by train, of course) to visit Castle Howard.

When I still had my corporate job I was planning on Egypt as my next overseas stop, but now I have developed this need to be in England. So Egypt may have to wait, especially as I have no idea how I will raise the funds for any kind of travel at this point. But I know if I focus on this it WILL happen!

A Big Oops... and a Big Sigh of Relief to Match

I reported the demise of a Culver City house in my post of April 18. Apparently I was walking down the wrong street when I saw the construction of a new condo. Today, on my way to take photos of the Postcards from Ballona mural restoration, I saw the house still standing. Not only that, the proposal for demolition and new construction sign has disappeared. Is this a dream come true?

Another construction sign just a few blocks away, posted alongside three small cottages, also has been removed. I'm hoping this is a good sign. Or a good non-sign!

A Walk on the Dark Side


This cute Spanish-style house is gone, gone, gone in order to make way for more condominium living.

Today I was thinking about what I like to write about. I think the title of Thursday's blog says it all: Beauty.

One of my favorite things to do in life is to walk around (a neighborhood, an art gallery, a park...), look at beauty, think about what it means or how it makes me feel, and to write about it. Wow, if I could make a living doing that, would I be the happiest person in the universe? Quite possibly.

Of course, the other side of Beauty is Ugliness, without the one there could not be the other. And sadly, it's the Dark Side I must write about today.

My favorite form of exercise is walking. I have always made a point of living in places where most of the things I need to do are within an easy (say 45 minute) walk from my house. That way I can get some exercise while taking care of necessities like shopping at Trader Joe's or stopping in at the post office. But sometimes walking is just for the sake of walking, and maybe clearing my head in order to solve a problem.

I love walking around the streets of Culver City which are lined with trees and pretty much free of traffic (except for parents with strollers, neighbors walking their dogs, and bicycle riders). I enjoy looking at the single family homes in the styles of California bungalow, Mediterranean or neo-Spanish... maybe not very exciting, but for the most part well-kept up with nicely landscaped yards.

But Progress has arrived in our little town. "With a capital ‘P' that rhymes with ‘C' and that stands for ‘Construction!!!!!!!'" (With huge apologies to the Music Man.) Since the advent of the new downtown area, the arrival of avant garde art galleries, and upscale "food nouveau" restaurants, change seems to be afoot in the adjacent residential neighborhoods too. And not for the better, in my humble opinion.

To be blunt, what used to be a beautiful neighborhood is becoming uglified with massive multi-story condos towering over cute one-story cottages. Now, I live in a small condo complex, so I have nothing against condo living; it's necessary if you can't afford or don't want to live in a house. My building was constructed in the 70s and is on a street that you could not possibly describe as quietly residential, so it doesn't really count.

What I am concerned about is the potential loss of the single-family home neighborhoods that make life worth living for so many people. I would be afraid to buy a home on a street where I didn't know from one day to the next if the house next door was going to be pulled down and replaced by an eight-unit condo. Similarly, I'm not sure I would want to put a lot of money into remodeling my home (with the thought of living there for the rest of my life) if I knew tomorrow I could wake up to find my house surrounded on all sides by condos.

Unfortunately, what may be making a quick profit for a few developers now has the potential for a disastrous effect on the quality of life in those neighborhoods, and the reason people moved there (whether into a house or one of those very condos) in the first place.

And while I'm on this subject, I can't let homeowners off the hook either. Some people, when remodeling their homes, don't seem to give a hoot about the ambience of their own street. Or understand anything about the history of the area they live in. A Tudor-style house belongs in England, not in Southern California. And, unless you are Frank Gehry, please think twice about erecting something that looks like it just arrived from outer space next to your neighbor's Spanish bungalow!

So, getting back to Beauty... on my next walk around the neighborhood, I would like to merely look forward to a visual delight I didn't notice yesterday—perhaps a blossoming wysteria or a new planting of pansies. I don't want to be holding my breath in fear of yet another installment of the Uglies—and the horrifying surprise that one of my favorite little houses bit the dust overnight.

(photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Beauty
I've been busy working on the PR for the "Postcards from Ballona" mural restoration. But the worst is over now so I was anxious to get back to this blog.
For a long time now I have wanted to clear everything out of my house and start over. I mean everything. But right now I'm not in a position to replace all my worldly possessions. So I'm doing the mini version.
Yesterday I cleared all my cookbooks off the shelves... I have well over one hundred... and I never look at them. They are not living up to their potential... they belong in a kitchen where they will be used. Now the cookbooks are gone, I can dispose of the bookshelf that is really in the way.
I've now started on the living room... the VCR and all my old VHS tapes (all my Richard Simmons tapes have been replaced with DVDs anyway)... books that I've never read... knick knacks, bric-a-brac, all those "dust-catchers" I've harbored over the years... all relocated to the garage. I'm getting to the upstairs tomorrow.
The only decision left is yard sale or thrift store? I've checked out selling some stuff on e-bay but is it really worth the effort?
Throwing note cards in the recycling pile I came across this quotation:
"Beauty, which is what is meant by art, using the word in its widest sense, is, I contend, no mere accident to human life, which people can take or leave as they choose, but a positive necessity of life, if we are to live as nature meant us to; that is, unless we are content to be less than men."
~William Morris, 19 February 1880
Don't you wish we still wrote in that kind of language?