Postcard from Cadiz, Spain: Friendly since Phoenician times

This Phoenician woman appeared so friendly in the Cadiz Museum, as though welcoming us to town. Her wave in this post can be considered “adios” because these snapshots are our parting ones.

Love the sensuous Solomonic columns we encountered in random locations, the colorful azulejos benches and the braid left in a church alongside milagros. I had never seen a braid offered in gratitude for a prayer believed answered outside of churches in Mexico.

Next stop Cordoba.

Postcard from Bainbridge Island, Washington: Land of towering trees and boastful blossoms

Hydrangeas

Dragoons, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon.
Already mid September a line of brown runs over them.
One sunset after another tracks the faces, the petals.
Waiting, they look over the fence for what way they go.

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

They say the blues symbolize frigidity and apology; although it seems a gift of a bouquet of them could be easily misunderstood. Pinks represent heartfelt emotion. Whites boastfulness or bragging, symbolizing the giver or receiver? Victorians considered all hydrangeas as symbolizing boastfulness, because each stalk was covered with so many blooms. There are mopheads, laceheads and panicles, and it seems Bainbridge Island has every kind.

Most of these photographs were snapped in the 150-acre Bloedel Reserve; although towering trees, lush greenery and flowers can be viewed in any direction one wanders on the island until stopped by water frontage.

Virginia (1902-1989) and Prentice (1900-1996) Bloedel accumulated much of their wealth from his family timber business centered in Vancouver. The couple purchased the estate in 1951 and transformed it into a botanical garden showcase. In 1970, the couple gifted the property to the University of Washington, but the university found the costs of upkeep prohibitive. So the Bloedels established a nonprofit, The Arbor Fund to purchase it and open it to the public.

The Bloedels were known for their art collection and their willingness to let their home and its grounds serve as a retreat for artists and writers. A son donated hundreds of the family’s paintings to the Whitney Museum of American Art and to Williams College Museum of Art.

Along the way, though, one of Bloedels’ paintings was mired in controversy. It turned out to be one of more than 160 paintings Nazis confiscated from a Paris art dealer, Paul Rosenberg, in 1941. According to an article by James R. Warren on History Link:

Most famous (or notorious) of the works of art collected by the Bloedels was Henri Matisse’s Odalisque, which they subsequently donated to the Seattle Art Museum. It was later discovered that, unbeknownst to the Bloedels or to the Museum, the painting had been looted by Nazis from its original Jewish owners. It was returned to their heirs in 1999.

Hosting artists also was not without its ups and downs. Poet Theodore Roethke (1908-1963), a Pulitzer Prize winner, was found floating face downward in the pool after mixing a batch of mint julips. The former family pool is now filled in to serve as a peaceful sand and rock garden in the Japanese Garden area of the reserve, complete with a Japanese-style guest house.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

Theodore Roethke

Postcard from Rome, Italy: Insertion of banker’s mistress in Raphael fresco a cheeky move

When Pope Julius II (1443-1513) slipped on the papal “ring of the fisherman,” the banker from Siena who helped with the Pope’s expenses prior to his election was not forgotten. Pope Julius II appointed Agostino Chigi (1466-1520) treasurer and notary of the Apostolic Camera, the Papal Treasury. Forging strong financial ties throughout Western Europe, Chigi’s financial operations employed up to 20,000.

On his way to becoming the richest man in Rome, Chigi needed suitable quarters on the Tiber on the Vatican side of the river. He commissioned a painter from Siena, Baldessare Peruzzi (1481-1536), to design his palace on Via della Lungara in 1508.

With Pope Julius II (1443-1513) summoning Michelangelo (1475-1564) to Rome in 1508 to cover the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, frescoes were in vogue. Peruzzi turned to mythological themes for inspiration for Chigi’s main hall, named Galatea after a sea-nymph. Astrological scenes in the ceiling were surrounded by golden stars reflecting the position of constellations on the date of Chigi’s birth.

Raphael (1483-1520) was hired to finish the frescos there and in the loggia of Cupid and Psyche. The lives of putti fluttering about the ceiling appear perilous, demanding defensive maneuvers against ferocious beasts. And there, almost within the shadow of the Vatican, Chigi’s mistress brazenly posed in the buff as one of the Three Graces, the one on the left above perched atop fluffy cloud. I believe her flip side is captured as part of the same trio in another triangle in a photo below.

Invitations to parties hosted under these scenes were among Rome’s most desirable, with the guest list combining the pope and cardinals, princes, the wealthy elite, poets and artists. To demonstrate his wealth, the flamboyant Chigi was known to cast silver dishes over the wall toward the Tiber at the end of feasts; although the frugal banker in him would prearrange to have servants with nets down below to catch the falling tableware for recycling at the next soiree.

In 1579, the palace was purchased by Cardinal Alessandro Farnese (1520-1589), who evidently saw no need to interfere with the frolickers in the frescoes. Farnese’s career was launched when he was only 14 with his appointment as a cardinal by his grandfather, Pope Paul III (1468-1549). Lucrative appointments within the church allowed the cardinal to accumulate great wealth under several popes. Chigi’s villa became known as Villa Farnesina and is now a museum.

Directly across the street from the gardens of Chigi’s villa, Cardinal Domenico Riario commissioned construction of a palace in 1510. Presumably the neighbors coordinated their party schedule so the extremely narrow street was not impossibly clogged by guests’ carriages. This palace was rebuilt completely in 1736 for Cardinal Neri Corsini (1685-1770), named a cardinal by his uncle, Pope Clement XII (1652-1740).

Among the notable occurrences in what is now known as Palazzo Corsini was the death of Queen Christina (1626-1689) of Sweden. Christina was only six when her father, King Gustavus Adolphus (1594-1632), found himself lost in thick smoke behind enemy lines while leading a cavalry charge during the Battle of Lutzen during the Thirty Years’ War. The Protestants won the battle, but not before the King suffered fatal wounds.

Christina’s mother did not handle the loss well, demanding that her husband’s coffin be kept open in a room in a palace so she could visit it often and saving his heart in a separate keepsake box in her room. Officials were not able to bury the decomposing king until 18 months after his death. Not surprisingly, her mother was deemed unfit for the regency or for raising her daughter.

Instructions left behind by King Gustavus Adolphus were for his daughter to be educated as a boy would be. An excellent student, Christina mastered nine languages. But, with all her studies, Christina failed to pick up many of the prevailing attributes of femininity, often dressing as a man would. Her refusal to marry and her close relationship with a lady-in-waiting sparked continual rumors.

While Sweden emerged as a major European power following the signing of the Peace of Westphalia ending the Thirty Years War in 1648, Queen Christina seemed tired of the weight of the crown and abdicated in favor of a cousin in 1654. She secretly had converted to Catholicism, so Rome would be more to her liking than her Protestant homeland. Rome celebrated her arrival and conversion, with Pope Alexander VII (1599-1667) confirming her in the Vatican Basilica.

In Rome, she rented the palace from the Riario family and plunged herself into attending and hosting social affairs, collecting art, meddling in papal politics and even conspiring to wear the crown of Naples. Alternating between masculine attire and gowns with daring décolletages, she kept Rome guessing as to who reclined with her in her chambers under the fresco of “The Judgement of Solomon.” A cardinal frequenting the palace was chastised by the pope. Christina never married, and, when she died, her sole heir was her steadfast friend, the cardinal.

The Corsini family sold the property in 1883 and donated the entire art collection to the state. The Corsini museum is operated in tandem with another palace (more later) as the National Gallery of Paintings. The extensive gardens behind the palace are now the Botanical Gardens of Rome.