Leaves on the Window Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/glass 10 x 38" 25 x 96cm
Falling Leaves Laurie Fox Pessemier Woodblock/paper 6 x 4" 15 x 10cm
View Castevetro Vines Blair Pessemier Acrylic/canvas 14 x 20" 35 x 50cm Sold
Poplars on the Panaro Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic/canvas 10 x 20" 25 x 50 cm BUY
We went to Rimini this week, to see Alberti’s Malatesta
Temple and walk off our election upset on the beach. The Malatesta Temple is an early Renaissance
renovation of a 13th century church, with a fresco by Piero della
Francesco and blue/white reliefs by Duccio.
The church is remarkably simple, almost Zen, by Renaissance standards. It may be my favorite piece of Renaissance
architecture.
Our trip was to coincide with work on the house, but for the
gazillionth time the repair of our leaky French doors in the library was
postponed: too cold this morning for
the 70+ year olds’ fingers to work. Of
course, my own 60+ year old fingers don’t always feel good outside in the cold,
but I hope I will have the courage and grace to turn over whatever task it is
to a younger person when the time comes.
There are a plethora of young, abled-bodied men here who
could easily do the job. We hired one
to weather-seal our windows – talked on Monday, job done by Tuesday. He even cleaned up afterward. He is
the same fellow who helped the traditional woodworker install new windows, but
it’s unlikely the local will use him again.
You see, the refugee is black. “You
would let him in your house?” the carpenter asked us. We swallowed our shock, and replied.
When people here ask me how we can use “immigrant labor”, I
tell them America was built by immigrants, many of them Italian.
I think it is so funny our “Italian” experience has not
entirely been with Italians. Many of our
new friends are from Africa, UK, USA, the middle East. Recent visitors said I should write a book
about moving to Italy, the antithesis of Peter Mayle’s “year in Provence”. Isn’t
it marvelous we live in such a changing world?
And we’re in the thick of it.
We had British friends over recently, who were talking about
middle class and working class. “I am sorry,” I said, “I have no idea what you
are talking about.” They embrace me for
my ignorance. “You Americans are so good
in that way,” she said. And it is true,
as Americans are much more class unconscious than the Europeans, despite
this week’s sad blip.
The work is being done on the windows as I write. This truly is the coldest (35F/2C) day of the
year, so far, and the windows are completely open. Blair and I and Harika are hunkered in the
downstairs bedroom with an electric heater.
We’ve been out to paint, gone to the new winery in the neighborhood, Terra Quila, bought a dozen
bottles. We’re going to the Liberty
show at Reggio Emilia’s Palazzo Magnani this afternoon.
Meanwhile work progresses slowly, the men are pleasant
enough, and relaxed. I bring them cakes
and coffee (they don’t drink it). Tomorrow
one of the refugees will come to help me clean and put the house back together.
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