Postcard from Palermo, Sicily: Are the tales about nudes nunsense?

Above: A portion of Fontana Pretoria, nicknamed Fontana della Vergogna

Officially it’s called Fontana Pretoria, so-named because of its location in the plaza fronting the palazzo that houses City Hall. But its nickname is Fontana della Vergogna, or Fountain of Shame. But shame on whom?

Well, obviously this fountain would be branded as more than shameful, downright pornographic, by some in Florida where a school principal recently was forced to resign after a teacher held up an image of Michelangelo’s “David” as part of a Renaissance art lesson for sixth graders. But art of the Italian Renaissance, even religious art, is not known to be puritanical in nature.

Amongst the theories, spouted off by guides to the huddled groups they shepherd, is that the name first was muttered by offended neighboring nuns, who would slip out onto the plaza under the cover of darkness and apply modest garb to the most exposed statues. Some guides magnify the vigilante efforts undertaken by the Dominican sisters to include amputation of numerous limbs and offensive protrusions. The sisters naturally were upset after they were coerced into giving up a large portion of their property to accommodate the grandiose plaza for the government.

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Postcard from Morelia, Mexico: Contemporary art lines ex-convento’s walls

Above: Portion of “The Mountains of Michoacan,” a 2003 mural by Adolfo Mexiac

In the year 1660, Jesuits began construction of Convento de la Compania de Jesus, or the Convent of the Society of Jesus in the city the Spanish called Vallodolid, renamed after the Mexican War of Independence to memorialize native son Jose Maria Morelos (1765-1815). The large rose-colored complex included a temple and a Jesuit college.

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Postcard from Palermo, Sicily: When cocktails beckon

Above: Farmacia Alcolica

A bottle of wine with lunch means it is pretty rare that we boulevardier our way into many bars when we travel. Yes, of course, sometimes when walking long distances we quench our thirst with a beer or spritz.

But then, every single day of our stay in Palermo, we looked out our window, across the intimate palm-filled Giardino dei Giusti, straight at Farmacia Alcolica. The people spilling out onto an unusual assemblage of furniture, occupying a lane lusted after by drivers cruising the narrow streets for a rare parking spot, looked so comfortable. Hard not to conclude it was just what the doctor ordered, at least once or twice.

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