Adam in Barca


Nunca hay tiempo suficiente
August 30, 2009, 7:43 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Lo siento, lectores fieles — I’ve still been traveling a lot, so not as much internet, but I have been filling my moleskins with notes, observations, and poems. I think, once I am settled, or maybe when I return to los Estados Unidos, I will retroactively update with the posts I’ve been writing in my head and notebook.

I just got back from Girona, Catalonia’s second or third largest city, though it feels infinitely smaller than Barcelona. It’s an ancient Roman/medieval town, and as soon as you enter the old city, it feels like you’ve been taken back in time. My new friend Anna (who is originally from Figueres, which is famous as Salvador Dali’s hometown) invited me to visit for a day, since she normally lives/works there. She showed me the city, and took me to see a comedic reinterpretation of Hamlet at Girona’s free summer theater festival…. and it was entirely in Catalan. If it sounds strange… well, let’s just say, it was interesting, but a delight to experience. The performance was very modern, and open-air, set against the backdrop of this beautiful, historic courtyard in Girona’s Culture Center.

I haven’t had time to upload my own Girona photos yet, but in the meantime, here’s a representative photo I borrowed online of Girona’s main waterway:



Practicar español
August 18, 2009, 4:32 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Wow! I feel like I blinked and suddenly two weeks went by. Sorry for the lack of updating. I got pretty sucked into life here, which I suppose is the best I could ask for.

I realized I never posted a photo of my street. Here it is, the charming Calle de Perill (Perill is Catalan for “Danger”). It was a bit overcast that day, so sorry for the poor lighting:

5372_597294489904_1305114_35322557_1083535_n

And here’s a photo of one of the local markets I buy groceries from down the street:

5372_597294664554_1305114_35322573_1789228_n

After focusing pretty heavily on research in July (my second project was on Antoni Tàpies, who I’ll do another post on later), August has been more about writing poems, practicing Spanish, and trying to live like a local. I’ve made enough local friends now that it’s possible to go almost an entire day without speaking any English out-loud, which is exciting and also interesting psychologically. (Sidenote: my Spanish is still very, very intermediate. But, I can at least struggle through basic conversations.) After talking with a friend in a cafe for an hour or two, half in Spanish/half in English, for example, I might come back to write or send an e-mail, and find myself accidentally including random Spanish phrases, like “dímelo” or “vale” or “vamos a ver.” The more I learn, though, the more I realize how much I lack. It seems everyone in Europe speaks 2, 3, 4, or even more languages, and as someone who speaks maybe one and a half, I’m intrigued at how the mind of a polyglot works.

The other night, I was sitting in a café with two Catalan friends, plus an Englishman, a Frenchman, and another American. At any moment, there may have been three different languages going at once, depending on who knew English, French, Spanish, or Catalan. Or take my run-in the other day on the train with my friend Hansol, who is originally from Korea, though she has lived here for two years. We ran into a classmate of hers, who is Italian, and though none of us are native-speakers, we conversed in Spanish — before switching to English when her friend realized I was American. It’s probably second-nature to most Europeans, but I find incredibly fascinating. (This is also all probably obvious for anyone who has ever studied abroad, but I’ve never lived in a Spanish— my only foreign language—country before, so it’s all quite new to me.)



“At Louvre, Many Stop to Snap but Few Stay to Focus “
August 4, 2009, 1:09 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Yesterday I noticed a New York Times story that touched on something I mentioned in my last post — about how too often, museum-going is a rushed, quantity-over-quality affair. I’ve been mulling over the story since I read it, and in the meantime, it looks like it caught Masha’s attention as well!

Before I jump into my thoughts, here’s an excerpt from the beginning of the story:

“Spending an idle morning watching people look at art is hardly a scientific experiment, but it rekindles a perennial question: What exactly are we looking for when we roam as tourists around museums?”

And here’s another excerpt, later in the story:

“Cameras replaced sketching by the last century; convenience trumped engagement, the viewfinder afforded emotional distance and many people no longer felt the same urgency to look. It became possible to imagine that because a reproduction of an image was safely squirreled away in a camera or cell phone, or because it was eternally available on the Web, dawdling before an original was a waste of time, especially with so much ground to cover.”

Since so much of my summer has been devoted to “seeing art,” I think it’s valid to consider what exactly the goal of it is. Why is it worth it to see Guernica in person when you can just Google the photo, anyway?

Since I just wrote about Guernica in an essay about Valente, it seems an appropriate example to start with. Most people have seen—or at least know of—Picasso’s famous painting, and in the Reina Sofia, it was easily the star attraction. (From my photo of it in a previous post, you can see the tourists crowded around it.)

For starters, the sensation of seeing the painting in person is very different than simply viewing a reproduction or image. It’s gigantic, nearly covering an entire wall, and each of the separate images (such as the horse head or human body parts) becomes all the more startling. Because of its size and complexity, the painting is difficult to absorb as a whole—instead, the eye moves from figure to figure; the human or animal aspects, depicted in geometric style, blur with the indistinct shapes behind them. The NYTimes story talked about taking the time for “contemplation,” and this is a perfect example of a famous painting that demands your time and attention. The longer you view it, the more you notice new elements, and how those particular aspects interact to create the sensation and emotion of the larger painting.

IMG_0456

For me, seeing the painting in person illuminated some of the ways Valente used it in his poem, “Guernica-Picasso-Guernica: 1973.” In the poem, Valente conflates the reality of death with the physical imagery of the painting: “el frío / horror que hizo nacer / en gris coagulado de Guernica” (the cold / horror that forced the birth / of Guernica’s coagulated gray). The poem, like the painting, is deliberately dehumanizing in the sense that it compresses the separate “agonía” (death struggle) of many people into “una sola agonía,” reflecting the anonymity of violence. (There is plenty more to say about Valente’s take on the painting, but I’ll leave it at that.)

The NYTimes story didn’t focus on this, but I also think going to a modern art museum like Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA)—as opposed to a more classical collection like the Lourve—has its own unique benefits and surprises. The MACBA, much like the MOMA in New York, has a permanent collection, but a majority of its galleries are dedicated to rotating or new exhibitions. In this way, wandering from room to room is a surprise. You never know who, or what, is coming next — and it allows you discover and be inspired by artists you had never before considered, or current artists who are experimenting with brand new styles.

I even had a similar experience in a museum filled with well-known classics, like El Prado in Madrid. When people think of Diego Velazquez, for instance, the first painting that jumps to mind is usually “Las Meninas.” But when I visited that particular painting, I discovered lesser known paintings by Velazquez that drew my intention even more — like “La Fragua de Vulcano.”

And then — and this will end my ramble! — there is the benefit of seeing a selection of art in the context of its time period. As I’m attempting to familiarize myself with modern Spanish art, for instance, I can learn more about a particular painting by Antoni Tapies, as an example, by seeing it placed adjacent to the work of his contemporaries like Antonio Saura and Manolo Millares, who shared a similar style. By doing so, it’s easier to notice aspects that the three painters share—as well as elements that may be unique to Tapies.

imgAntoni Tàpies2

Ok, enough ranting from me. Back to translating. And next time I promise to include more photos.



One month and a visit to Madrid
August 1, 2009, 12:07 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’ve been here about a month now, and I feel settled and have my regular spots that I’ve started going to do work or read. There’s a cafe down the street that has become my go-to place to write during the day. No modern flair here— unadorned plaster walls, sturdy old tables, and strong espresso. And it’s always packed with people coming and going, sipping coffee, chatting with passers-by, or doing their own work. The ceilings are high, the tables well-worn, and in typical European fashion, it’s usually a little hazy with cigarette smoke.

Another spot I like to visit is called the “Cascada” (waterfall) in Parc de la Ciutadella, Barcelona’s largest park. It’s an elaborate fountain made to look organic (except for the huge stone dragons spitting water). It’s surrounded by sand pathways, and a little out-door cafe is a couple hundred feet away. When it’s not scorchingly hot outside, it’s a nice place to visit.

n1305114_35322858_5165158

Having time is good for seeing art, too. The best way to see an art museum is to do so without being rushed to absorb a hundred paintings at once. I appreciated this more when I was in Madrid last week. I only set aside a few days to visit, and there is a LOT of great art in Madrid — so I had to cram a lot into a short amount of time. I made a list of works I knew Valente had written about, like Guernica, and made sure to visit them all.

IMG_0459

Besides art, a friend of mine (who is finishing up the Fulbright in Madrid) showed me around the city. He took me around to some of the neighborhoods that he felt were particularly Madrileño, and we also explored the city’s rich literary history. We saw the statue of Lorca—one of my favorite Spanish poets—and the house where Cervantes lived.

IMG_0444
IMG_0446

The bus ride to Madrid is 7 hours, which isn’t quick, but it was actually nice to drive through the rural areas and Spanish landscape that is mostly untouched by people.