Praxis Studios: Dreams and Possibilities

Have I written about the Praxis Studios Project I've been participating in? It is a collaborative interactive video project which utilizes web-based technology to produce a feature film. (I've since learned that the project is being filmed in 16mm which makes it even more of a hybrid affair.)

I've been uploading video for their project since last fall and took some time in Madrid to conduct a few video interviews. It was great fun. During the past few days I've been laying low with this bronchial thing so its been a good time to reteach myself iMovie in order to create a trailer for their project. The Praxis website, linked above, contains links to several trailers that have been produced for this project.

For more info you can also visit the Whitney Museum website.

Tintoretto, El Rastro and more

Carole and I met Claus and Billy at the Prado at 10am in order to avoid the lines for the Tintoretto show. This Venetian painter was well worth racing to the feet of the Prado. I avoided Venice on my only trip to Italy because I was traveling solo and wanted to wait until I could see it with my true love at the time. Big mistake. Lessons learned....

Tintoretto rocked and must be the next best thing to visiting Venice. I love his use of classical narrative and interpretations of great stories such as Helen's abduction from Troy. Afterwards we scanned the gift shop and managed to find a few affordable books, etc. The weak dollar has really made me thriftier than I'd like to be.

Our reward for getting out and spending time with our muse was an invitation to eat brunch in the Ritz Madrid's great dining room. It reminded me of the Jefferson's spread without the jazz combo. Instead it featured Beckham, Posh Spice and the little spices with grannie. They were enjoying brunch across the dining room. I haven't spent any time visiting their place is celebrityland but I must admit I can see the attraction. Beckham is a true Adonis. I had NO IDEA.

After a few glasses of champayne, an espresso and a sampling of every great tapas I could imagine we left the gilded dining room of the Ritz and made our way across town to El Rastro, the famed Madrid flea market.

I like to visit a citie's flea market since it tells me so much about the place and its people. FYI - El Rastro is a tiny market and doesn't come close to the numerous markets in Paris or London or even Glasgow. Even though we arrived late I knew from the lay of the land its more like a one of the small neighborhood markets in Paris than what was implied in the travel guides. It was a bit of a walk there and back - which ended when Carole had to get back to the Paseo del Prado for work.

I managed to squeeze in a short visit to the Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection which was well worth the reduced three euro entrace fee. Their portrait collection was the most memorable for me... with a striking Rembrandt and some of the best Ducth painters. I hope I can squeeze in the Portrait show that opens on the 6th, the same day as the Chuck Close retrospective at the Reine Sofia.

Counting sheep and makin' bacon

C and I waded into our only Saturday night in Madrid with a little fear and much enthusiasm. I am determined to avoid the trauma of having my ID lifted by pick pockets or any of the other shenanigans tourists put up with in Spain. Its a great nation, but really... that's a tradition I wouldn't miss. I am not in a sporting mood!

With mermaid C by my side, I was in the mood to interview a few locals about their hometowns or about the manifestation we witnessed earlier in the day. C is really good at working out the translations. I am a good tripod. There were street artisans, romeos, club hawkers, senoritas with long hair of every color, boys and men in tight jeans... on thing I did not see evidence of was a hip hop or rap attitude. I heard some of this come out of the bars but I didn't see its impact on the street... and I didn't miss it. There is nothing stranger than seeing french school boys with baggy pants and shirts and their hats in reverse. Ok, it wasn't so common in France either but it is a presence that is undeniable!

As much as we loved sitting in a wine bar and taking in the atmosphere we loved walking the district just east of the Prado and witnessing the culture on the streets and in the windows... cafes, clubs, restaurants, museums of ham, irish pubs, tapas bars, etc, etc. Earlier in the night each cafeteria or cafe that had a TV chose to televise the speech that was being given at the protest march. Everyone was silent... these people believe their voices and their votes count and it continues to inspire me.

I could have walked all night but our fish dogs were tired from a day of adventure. Time to count the spanish sheep cheese.

No need for a Compass...

My friend C and I both ordered the menu del dias at El Pabellon Del Espejo on Saturday morning. This charming bistro is located in the middle of Passeo de Recoletos in Madrid. The service was great and parralled the decor's vintage charm. We broiled Cod was perfect and we finished our meal with a generous slice of layered chololate cake.

As we admired the chandelier and stained glass from the end of the restaurant there were hundreds people gathering outside. Some were coming into the bistro with placards and red and yellow banners. It turns out there was a manifestation scheduled for that afternoon and evening...against terrorism... according to our waiter, but others told us it was directed to the Basque rebels. It was beautful, watching all kinds of people gather to demonstrate.. and inspiring. I hope to post some video of the manifestation on Google video soon.

We made our way to the archeology museum after stopping many times to interview locals for the Praxis Project... (did I mention I am not bilingual?) About the time we arrived at the two pair of winged sphinxes stationed by the museum entrance Carole had to leave for work. She'll be on call for the duration of this adventure so we've just learned to improvise.

The museum reminded me of the Victorian and Albert before it was new and improved... the original vitrines still holding its collection of mummies, et al. Afterwards I mady my way back to the hotel. The crowds were thick and everyone was listening to the speach being broadcast from the Plaza of Independence. Crowds were clapping and chanting their support. The streets were closed to traffic for the demonstration so it was possible to walk right up to Neptune's and Cybele's two fountains. I can see why Madrid is a late night city... its really most beautiful after dark.

At the hotel I met C, C and M to have drinks in the lounge and make plans for our Saturday night in Madrid!

From the wayside, between the lines

Madrid's Botanical Garden

The train from Bilbao arrived without cause. I woke in time to wash my face and gather my belongings. (around 8am) It felt better... arriving in a station I was familiar with.* I was still on the fence about what to do... seville, cordoba or madrid? My research at Atocha proved very helpful in that regard. The fare for the high speed train was substantially higher than I was prepared to pay in my state of weariness.... more than 100 E. I decided to take a night and clear my head before C & C arrived. I gathered myself and headed north toward the Prado. If nothing else, there was always the museo and their coat check! As I grew closer to the Prado I looked left and right in search of a sign. There was a hotel to the left...too shabby and big and close to the street. As the Prado loomed closer I came to a small Plaza on the left, across the street from the Botanical Garden. It was circled by a tapas place, a wine bar and more. In the middle was a fountain and beyond that a small sign that read HOSTAL!

I walked over and rang the bell and spanish errupted from the speaker. I asked if there was a room and they buzzed me in! I opened the door to see a LIFT!!!** I went up and the man asked me if I had a reservation. no, I said and he nodded sadly and held up his hands in that universal expression of "there is nothing I can do..."
Another woman said Wait(!) would this be ok? She opened a door to a tiny room with a single bed, tiny desk, lamp, wardrobe and a sink!!! H E A V E N.

Hostal Bruna was perfect for my needs. I washed my face, changed clothes, well, rearranged what I was wearing - and left shortly therafter to taste Madrid! I purchaced the local listing, as recommended by everyone*** and began the afternoon at the botanical garden. There was an exhibition titled "25 Spanish Artists of the Future in the gallery toward the back of the garden. I'll try to post photos soon. It seemed much a like a very good MFA show though the space was great and there was definitly some work I to be enjoyed.

Afterwards I decided to walk up Paseo Prado and Recoleto ISO lunch and perhaps an art fair I found in the listing. I started ISO Cafe Guijon where artists and writers have gathered for decaded. Touristy and expensive. I found another wonderful cafe further down on Paseo Ricoleto with a menu del dias of 10 E! That included bottled water, a cafe con leche, fried cod and an excellent plate of rice and seafood. Contentment.

I continued my walk north ISO of this friggin art fair of 40 Spanish Galleries... I walked, walked and walked. After almost two hours I came upon it... ferme. Closed. A week ago. The listing was wrong. A misprint. Of course I wouldn't have known this is another artist hadn't told me. She made her way there, too. She was Spanish but spoke excellent English. She called the security guards using the number in the listing to confirm what was going on. We checked out another show that was about to open in an adjacent gallery and she pointed out the best galleries on my map. She also told me about the magic bus number 27 which would take me all the way home. Well, at least as far as the hostal!

I watched a film on my computer just to veg and went out about 11pm in search of dinner. I guess I'm turning into a Spaniard. The places close to the hostal were a little too smokey for my mood so I found a market, discovered from wonderful Spanish Sausage (NOW I understand my Hemingway was also so excited about sausage and ham... I thought he was just a manly carnivore but this stuff is the best in the world. I wonder if it is legal to bring some back to the states? We'll see.

*I'll never forget getting out at the Bilbao station. It was dark and it was raining and I had no idea which way to go or what to do. Jet lag and ambien will add to the confusion already caused by an out of date map on the walls of the station and no open toilet, info desk, etc. It was s a d. A beautiful train station with no ammenties for the Guggenhiem pilgrims... hmmm. I hope this isn't a trend.

** another good sign!

***not recommended by me!

Report from Bilbao

Bilbao and its Gehry Fish castle (The Guggenheim Bilbao) seduced me completely. I didn't expect it. It is an amazing structure containing some of the best installations of late 20th C art anywhere. The site is simply magical. It reminded me of a 20th C artists' ode to Lourdes the way the river, mountains and cathedrals' forms embrace in a way that is natural and magnificant. I don't think I would have loved it as much if I'd been there in the summer and there were lines of people waiting to get in. February is really one of the best times to visit the great art museums anywhere... the weather is crap so why not visit one's muse without the distraction of the summer crowds?

There is so much more to tell...

Missed Signals

Word of warning. Don't ask for directions to the train station unless specifying which one you need to go to... especially in Madrid! I needed to go to Chamartin. All northbound trains depart from there. I was directed to Atocha - which I loved - but it was the wrong station so I began my Spain experience by missing the train I'd reserved from the airport early this am.

Atocha has its charms... a rich botanical garden complete with turtles, a tourist info counter, coffee shops and shopping - but few electical outlets. A woman with a cell phone a laptop is always in search of a stray outlet. I could have taken the time to see a museum or stroll in the city but my jet lag was getting the best of me and I thought I'd do best to sit still or to carefully make my way to the Chamartin station. Its on a line that reminds of the RER trains in Paris. I could never figure out those buggers. Whenever I take an RER train I always want specific instructions - like when I visited my cousin outside of Paris - and even then I am never quite sure I am on the right train until we pass the first outbound station. Maybe its my dyslexia combined with jetlag... but the first pass to find that station was a disaster - which is why I missed the early train. It was all for the best since I didn't have reservations for accomodations in Bilbao and realized I could sleep on the night train. The Renfre trains are clean, spacious and this one was full of empty seats. I buried my belongings under my skirts, took half an Ambien and dreamt of Spanish Ham. zzzz. ZZZZZZ. zzzzzzzz

smooth landing, rocky roads

As soon as the plane landed I knew I was in Spain. The trees, light, landscape all paralleled the minutae I'd seen in great paintings. Spain is hard for me, still. I come here for inspiration and adventure but it is work. All of it is, I suppos,Tthis is just harder work than I remember it will be.

I reserved a train for Bilbao from the airport Renfe window. Very convenient... except I had jet lag and didn't notice that there are two train stations in Madrid. When I asked for directions to the train station at the Ritz they didn't ask me WHICH train station, they just gave me directions to the Atocha station even though they knew I was headed to Bilbao and there are no trains from Atocha that go to Bilbao. I'll be checking in there tomorrow after my generous friend Carole arrives. Believe me, someone at the Ritz is going to read or hear about this since I missed my train because I went to the wrong station. It happens all the time so you think the desk clerk at the friggin Ritz Carlton would know better.

It all worked out in the end since I wound up on a night train to Bilbao. which was worth it. I didn't expect so but I loved it. I have to say, I do like the Guggenhim style. All those Kiefers...and the Louise Bourgeois is perhaps one of her best. There is some amazing work in all of their collections. I loved photographing the building in all kinds of light. It pure eye candy. I left the Gug close to closing time and was completely exhausted... and now two nights later I finally have a bed! All in all I've spent the last three nights sleeping in an upright position! The plane and then a night train there and back...! My back is in knots and my husband is far away. I think a visit to the Madrid hammam I read about in the NYT last week will unravel those knots nicely.