On the Eve of Ravenna

 ,,,,and this is what the Upside Down Floorcloth looks like at this point, after a couple of days of blocking in the colours only. 

And tomorrow I am off to the ravishing Ravenna again, for Nabucco at the Opera Festival, once more meeting up with David, but also Jeremiah- we will be staying in the venerable Diana Hotel. Then I must ruch back to arrange a Christmas Aperitivo for neighbours, friends from ONDA, Paolo and his studio, Hettie and many more..,

The Entrance Floor Cloth

Those who have known me for a long time will recall that in my chequered career a certain object has made sporadic appearances in my life- a forgotten item of the interior called Floor Cloth or Oil Cloth. I have in fact made many of these, and they are all visible on my website www.sophiesarin.com  under the heading 'Floors'.

There has been this little voice in the back of my mind, nagging away at me, that I ought to make one for this flat, and for the entrance- it is most probably going to be my last home and hopefully for some time to come...so the idea is  finally beginning to take some shape. 

Since I became an Ondaiola in June, I have been quite a useful addition to the contrada- or at least I have been trying to make myself useful- here, for instance we have me in the Saturday morning coffee bar at the Via Giovanni Dupre, making capuccinos with Roberto, the other volunteer that Saturday.

                                                    

This sort of visible engagement helped me to take courage and ask Massimo, the Priore and one of the big bosses of Onda, if there might be some space, at present  not being used,  somewhere in the Onda territory, where I might be able to paint the Floorcloth for my entrance. To my great surprise and joy, he said I could use the floor above the Chiesina, the old church of the Contrada on Via Giovanni Dupre. Now, this space had definitely not been used, or indeed swept,  for a couple of centuries. 

However, after a dusty couple of days, it was time for the protective MDF sheets to go down and be taped together, with two purposes- one to protect the ancient floor, and the other to provide a surface for me to nail down and stretch out the canvas.

                                                 

Since the entrance to my flat is a very odd shape, it was necessary to lay down the canvas in situ there first and draw the shape on it, with the help of another Roberto, this time from the little theatre group who meet every Friday at my place...

And then the canvas was stretched and nailed down on the MDF in the Chiesina. 

                                       

                                                

The first layer of primer (ordinary vinyl emulsion paint mixed with PDF glue for elasticity and to prevent cracking) is important, because it is the one that stretches the canvas taut when it shrinks.

Since then five more layers of primer has been painted, and between each some sanding, and every time redrawing of the outline of the entrance hall perimetre, which shows through faintly  on each new layer and needs to be redrawn each time. 

So what will be the motif of this entrance Floorcloth? This has caused me some distress, as I have felt inadequate and uninspired... there is also some pressure on me, because the ONDA people are of course curious and want to know what I am doing... it will have to be good! And although I have done many traditional floorcloths in the past which have had patterns only, this one is not going to be one of those- it will be a lighthearted synthesis of what Siena is to me: it will use some details from my year of drawings from the streets of Siena- its crazy, lovely shapes and its caressing  movements. It will have some well-known silhouettes; 

It will have the colours of Siena and there will be Porta Tufi at the entrance, I think..

And then there will some details like Simone Martini's 'Blessed Augustino Novello' who Andrew and I called 'the SuperMonk' executing one of his miracles, catching the boy falling from the balcony...etc etc..

 And I expect there will be a horse of two...

I called Kathy, my dear artist friend whom I admire and love. 'I am scared' I said.  She said: 'We are all scared when we begin something new' she said...

Autumn Mists and Merry making

Siena is putting on her autumn attire: that means the chill night mists that she discards in the morning when they roll up from the Orto de Pecci ( that lovely green space, so rare in Siena) to reveal blue skies- if we are lucky... 

There has been rain and storms too, of course, and floods in Tuscany, but we are safe from those at least, here on Siena's three hills...

And that ghoulish import from America: Halloween, has been adopted by ONDA to provide some autumn fun for the children. I was happy to help in the kitchen, but misunderstood as usual- it is not the first time that I have exaggerated  a costume instruction...'Come dressed as something 'Halloween' inspired' I was told:

                                                     

Alas, the other ONDA helpers looked elegant with a little witches hat or perhaps a bat tiara...

Halloween barely over, Siena has set its sights already on Christmas, and decorations are going up all over town- all major streets have been hung with fairy lights, like Via Giovanni Dupre below. 

Menawhile, my little theatre group which meets here every Friday is going from strength to stength

I remain somwhat in the back ground, and my contributon is more culinary than theatrical... I have revisited  a well-tried formula- in the 1990's I ran a Chess club in Islington- I made soup for all participants at  the end of the evening. Then, between 2002 and 2005 I ran an Open House in my Ladbroke Grove flat which also ended up with my soup offering. And here we are in Siena: soup first here, then theatre rehearsal. They are very good, my theatre friends- born comedians...

 

Uppsala, London, Siena

Well, all things come to an end, including my three weeks as a film star, touring  Swedish cities with Elisabet, the director, for opening nights of the film.  Here she is, below, pretending to be a film star  too, in Uppsala with the composer Hutch, before the first showing of the film at a charming little cinema.

Much fun was had, and much laughter, especially when Hutch pointed out to one of the cinema staff that I was in the film that was about to be shown, and the lady thought I was Penelope Cruz! The resemblance is of course striking...

I left a sunny Sweden, where the leaves were beginning to turn golden and there was arrival of  autumn in the air, and spent a few days in the UK, first a lovely weekend with friends my favourite corner of  Suffolk, 

Then onto London and my Ladbroke Grove flat, where I managed to gather a few friends together for a dinner at that table which has seen so many happy evenings over the last twenty years...

and on the last day of September I finally arrived back in Siena again, after a exactly a month away, and |I observed with some pleasure and surprise  how much it felt like coming home...

Since then my little three room 'auberge' has been well frequented with easy, friendly and non-demanding guests, such as Zoe the tattoo artist from Montana below:

                               

And last Friday we started up the 'Pittura Vocale' again, the little theatre group in embryo, which used to meet up in a freezing cold church last winter, but which will now meet at my flat on Friday nights, under the guidance of Andrea, standing below. We have started to do an Alan Ayckburn play - in Italian- not even quite sure what the name of it is...: a series of monologues on park benches. Quite funny...

Lovely to be back in still warm Siena!

                                                 
 

Film Star for a Day

My vanity was basking in the corrupting glory of that 15 minutes of fame that Andy Warhol talked about on Tuesday night as I had the rather gratifying experience of being a film star for an evening. Here above with Elisabet Gustavson, the Director of the feature length film about the final days of Hotel Djenne Djenno; about being me and being her. ‘A philosophical, rather than political film’, said the  first reviewer, who seemed to be a little disappointed that it was a film about us, about changing one’s life; about personal challenges rather than anything to do with race, which she probably expected from a film set in Mali...

However it was noisily and well received at the Premiere, held at the ZITA, a small independent cinema in Central Stockholm, which was packed out mainly with people who had had something to do with the film, who were friends or relatives, so their enthusiasm was perhaps no real indication of how the film will be received by the real, paying  public on Friday night...The composer of the film’s music had arrived from London; the sound technician from Paris; the first Swedish ambassador I knew in Mali, Carin Wall was there, as well as many other people who had Malian connections, and who had visited the hotel, such as the Dutch Jay, 

                                

with me above, who features in a very small part in the film- he was one of the last visitors and is seen in a scene on a happy starlit night when we dine in the hotel garden, laugh and smoke big cigars...Jay came to Stockholm for the Premiere!

Earlier a large contingent of my cousins congregated and the head of the clan, Pelle, invited us all to a lovely Japanese early dinner treat before the show.

Afterwards the producers, the composer, Jay and a couple of others ended up at Sturehov, a venerable old restaurant around the corner which doesn’t close- the party ended about three I think...

                              

The Riderless Horse wins the August 2023 Palio

                           And the name of that horse is ZIO FRAC, winning for OCA- the Goose. 

The Palio is the only horse race in the world where a horse can win although the jockey has fallen off.

That was of course almost a week ago, but in the tumult during and following the Palio, I have not found a moment to sit down to  record it all. My Irish friend Peter has been here, making me laugh, and entering into all the Palio revelry: 

including taking some inspired pictures at the Cena della Prova Generale at Onda. This time Onda was not running in the Palio, so it was a more quiet affair than in July: noone is wearing the Onda scarves for instance, and it was a lot more subdued this time..

We saw the Corteo Storico at the Piazza, for Peter to soak in some of the atmosphere, and take some more pictures:

and then, just before the Palio started we ran down to the Onda Contrada head quarters and saw it on the  huge screen. It was  good way to see it- this time a totally engrossing race, full of twists and turns of fate,  with everyone standing up and screaming at the top of their volume- first it looked as if the 5 times consecutively victorious Tittia would yet again sail home for an easy win for Giraffa  but the unfortunate Abbasantesa smacked straight into the mattresses at the first San Martino bend,  a second after this shot below: 

and had to be taken to veterinary hospital, but is recovering well. 

Pantera, with the jockey Scompiglio- Jonathan Bartoletti-took advantage of this unexpected bonus and sailed ahead on Anda e Bola, into what looked like a sure win for two turns around the Piazza until he too  went down, his horse having lost a shoe. Then, for a moment Torre, the deadly enemy of Onda looked set for  victory when suddenly, out of nowhere, came the lovely Zio Frac, cutting the trajectory of Torre and Tabacco, 

and arriving victorious to the finishing line. The Ondaioli were deafening in their joy- if we  are not running, the most important thing is not to have to witness  our great enemy Torre win. This is all Contrada stuff that I have not quite assimilated yet, and frankly, might never quite understand. I am still feeling that this 'enemy' business is more of a light hearted affair...but then of course I am, and will always be, a late-comer and an outsider somehow, however welcoming many of the Ondaioli have undoubtedly been to me.

Meanwhile, the  three rooms in the house have been full of lovely guests: the last one the young Chinese Cellist ZhiYu, who is still here, doing master classes at the Chigiana Music Academy, and in the meantime being kind enough to give us  little concerts at night, while she practises. Here she is, with the Bach Cello suites. How lucky am I?

Interactive Theatre

 Well, since last time I wrote, my little mini Auberge has been pretty well frequented. 

It says in the AirBnB hand book that I should  make some House Rules which should be easily seen by the guests. But I don't even know where to start. I have decided to let the rules make themselves gradually, when I see what is necessary. Guests have followed unwritten rules anyway.  For instance, they have asked me if they are allowed to smoke on the balcony, taking it for granted that they are not allowed to smoke in the rooms...

                                                  

After the inspirational Rose, I have enjoyed the quiet and gentle company of George, the Unkrainian jazz guitarist, with whom I discussed gender politics, religion and Ukraine, of course, finding out so much about his part of the world, until now so alien to me. 

And now there is the young Dutchman with an unpronounceable name, who is kindly allowing me to call him Marengue. He too is very quiet and polite, but has been slightly led astray by the South African Dino, who has taken on the role of a Pied Piper, since I first told him about the continuing Siena summer fun which I visited with Rose at Bruco and which has now moved on to the Contrada Of Nicchio. Dino leads them all there- those from here and those he knows from the Dante Alighieri language school. |Only this time I have not been included: the Bright Young Things are out revelling most nights at Nicchio, back about 3, and I am not invited... It has suddenly dawned on me that they are between 22 and 40, and I am now having to accept being  in my late sixties (Ugh!) so it is probably normal that they do not invite me...

So, every time a new guest arrives, I really have no idea what will happen. For instance, yesterday arrived Marco from Sicily, who is here for 12 days, studying the Contradas, for his anthropology PHD. Whereas most people have been rather timid and stayed in their rooms until I try and drag them out of their shells by inviting them for a drink, for instance, Marco has immediately imposed his presence. He has moved all sorts of frozen Sicilian delicacies into the freezer- he flew in to Florence, armed with an icebox packed by his Mama, so he wouldn't have to survive on Tuscan ware. He sits on the balcony having breakfast, having somehow, in the deepest recesses of the drawers  found a clean tea towel which he is using as a table cloth. After his breakfast he PUTS IT BACK in the drawer...I say nothing. Not a great problem really. He leaves the door open to his room while he is studying or writing, and Sicilian hip-hop drifts through the rest of the flat. 

And as a scenic back drop to these goings-on, there is the never ending fun and interest of the 'Rear Window' view from the balcony, crowned in the distance by the melancholy Memento Mori of the Facciatone, the architectural attempt to beat Florence in grandeur which was stopped short by the Plague...

                                         
Meanwhile, I have to negotiate what happens in order to enjoy this and in order to DIRECT  this stage play, so both I and my guests  enjoy it. And I feel like a director,  It is in my power to create something here, something good. 

I must remember what Andrea wrote: In questo posto qualcosa magicamente crescera...