Joaquín Sorolla's La Siesta

Thanks to Google I learned that today it's the 148th anniversary of Joaquín Sorolla's birth. He was a Valencian impressionist painter, a prolific one. Once, while visiting the Museo del Prado in Madrid, I asked a room guard if there was any work by this painter there. There wasn't, but the guard proved to be very friendly and talkative and she kindly gave me the address of beautiful Museo Sorolla — if you ever go to Madrid I higly recommend it to you. Below, there's the painting I loved the most. His works are exhibited in many galleries and institutions, like the Spanic Society of America (New York), and nowadays a few can be found in El Prado too.

Joaquín Sorolla's La Siesta - "the nap" (1911).

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Nest Plant

Just checking one of the strange things growing in my family's garden. Visit more Wordless Wednesday participants.

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Musical Sunday

In gratitude to Pat, I post the video of the Italian representative in the Eurovision Song Contest to be held in Düsseldorf, Germany, in May. I had high hopes for Italy's long awaited comeback to my favourite TV show, and although I was disappointed at first, now "Follia d'Amore" is growing on me a bit. I admit for the moment it's classy and sung in an unusual way... However, by May I will have become Raphael Guallazi's number one fan. This is what happens with this contest: you happen to love a bunch of songs you would have never paid attention to if they weren't part of the ESC. And this year there are 43 contestants!

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The Italics Are Mine

Have you ever wondered what is it to be a proofreader and which is the relationship between him/her and writers? I happen to be a proofreader myself (not an English language proofreader though, as you may suppose at this stage!) and I have two things to say about my job. But I'll let a writer explain it for me. Some weeks ago, while browsing Margaret Atwood's site, I stumbled upon the following quote by Elmore Leonard:

…You asking me… do I know how to write down words on a piece of paper? That’s what you do, man, you put down one word after another as it comes in your head… You already learned in school how to write, didn’t you? I hope so. You have the idea and you put down what you want to say. Then you get somebody to add in the commas and shit where they belong… There people do that for you.

I think E. Leonard is absolutely right. And no, I'm not a masochist! Actually, besides being a proofreader, I'm also a writer — an aspiring one. They say language is the tool of writers and that they have to master it well to achieve their goals. This is probably true, but I don't take it too seriously anymore. I once learned that if a novelist tries to write as a proofreader/editor s/he's actually using the wrong side of her/his brain when writing. It's like wearing a straijacket in a party. A writer needs to be a child again, to breathe, to be free, and mustn't be constrained by rules. Everyone has their story, right? Mine is about to stop worrying, and to have fun when I'm off of work and write at home for the sake of writing.

Now I do fun things. For instance, writing this blog in a language I'm not fluent in is a way to keep in touch with my funny side of brain. The right one! I can't behave as an editor here and I love it this way.

So, we've discovered another secret hidden in this forest. ;)

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Master of Love

This is a poem by the early twentieth century writer Joan Salvat-Papasseit, a Catalan avant-garde poet. Its original tittle is "Mester d'amor" and it might be appropriate for a day like today.

MASTER OF LOVE

If you know its bliss, don’t you spare the kiss
As the joy of love bears no moderation.
Let yourself be kissed and then, kiss as well 

It is on your lips where love shall endure. 


Do not kiss, do not, as a slave or believer, 

Do it as if going to the rolling spring;
Let yourself be kissed  -earnest sacrifice- 

The more biting kiss, the more trustful one. 
  


What would you have done, having died before, 

With no fruit but the breeze on your cheek? 

Let yourself be kissed, on your breast and hands,
Lover or beloved, your glass rising up. 
  


When you kiss, drink, let your glass fix your fear: 

Kiss the neck, the most beautiful part.
Let yourself be kissed
  
                                       and might you still need some, 

Kiss yet another time, because life is too brief.

Translated by Anna Maria Torra. Source:  Online Plurilingual Anthology of Catalan Poetry. Happy Valentine's Day.

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Little Artists

One of them was made by my niece. Please don't ask me which one (and don't tell her!). :)

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A Walk in the Cloister

The cloister of Santa Maria de Vallbona, the most important Cistercian female monastery in Catalonia.

Each of the four sides of the cloister relates to a different century and architectural style. Here we see the northern part (fourteenth century) belonging to the best ogival Gothic style, and, at the right, the eastern part (thirteenth century) in the Romanesque style, with rose windows and delicate capitals. It may seem that the medieval builders were slaves to fashion and could not complete any construction in the same style that had been started; actually architectural variations reflect changes in the religious guidelines of each moment! The octagonal lantern shaped dome is unique, and one of the most daring works of medieval architecture.

As in any old building, there were a few restoration projects underway but we enjoyed a peaceful visit. I wish I had a cloister at home.

This was meant to be a Wordless Wednesday contribution...

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