*Sorry for the format of this post, technical problems...
**Click on the photos for full resolution
When I wake in the morning love..
And the sunlight hurts my eyes..
And something without warning love..
Bears heavy on my mind..
Today was like almost every other day I've
experienced over the past two weeks. I wake
up around 8:10 am for my routine shower in
my washroom which has no shower stall. Using
too much body wash I spend extra time using
a squeegee to mop the suds and remaining water
down the drain. Trying to brush my hair, I
curse my Quebecker barber and notice how
the increased humidity of Italy has made
my thick hair even denser. Taking my polo
off the hanger from which my clothing was
drying, I get dressed and pack my notes
and camera along with water and a sweater
for later in the day. Entering the kitchen,
my roommate Vikki has already made me bitter
coffee off a stove top, using a metal
coffeemaker. I complement this with yogourt
and Italian Cheerios, which in Italy are owned
by Nestle and taste less sweet. By this time
it's about 9 and I leave Vikki and my
other roommate Julia for work. On the
way we meet Lila and take the same 20 minute
walk that we do everyday, down from the
Santa Croce area of Venice towards Dorsoduro.
Passing the Academia bridge
I sometimesget the privilege
of seeing exquisite gondolas
parked close by. Noticing that
today was a particularly
warm day, I thought about
how I could reflect the heat
in writing. The warmth
combined with the heat
of the moment made me
want to blog, something
I hadn't done in over
a month. I began to think
of a song by Twista
that I had heard in Italy
a few years ago. The song
was about a lovely day with a
soulful hook sung by Anthony
Hamilton. What was it called
again??
I step through the Peggy's
secret, discrete,
entrance, typing in
the same secret code that
I do everyday. Vikki signs
us in, writing down
our names, and the time (9:20).
We make our way thorough the
sculpture garden, passing by
the same sculptures we do everyday,
Marino Marini's Pamona, a Sentinal
by David Smith...
Today was going to be fun. Because
of the weather, more tourists
would rather find themselves
at the beach instead of indoors
at the museum. For us as interns,
less people means less problems.
I look at the daily schedule for
this interns posted outside our
staff room just to confirm what
I already knew from the previous...
I was to sell tickets. This is my
favorite job because I can sit on
my ass all day instead of standing
which I do when I guard the rooms
of the museum. This means no
answering questions about the
peculiarities of the collection.
No "What am I supposed to see in this"
(from a British man referencing
Picasso's On The Beach, no this
was a serious inquiry and he so
was impressed with my reply
I had to give the same answer
to his wife). No "this title
detracts from my enjoyment of
the piece" (from an woman from Ottawa,
referring to Jackson Pollock's
Circumcision my thoughts, in the words
of Unforgivable BITCH I DON'T KRRR).
No, today all I'd have to do was practice
my French and move my hands accross
a touch screen. The morning went by
quickly and before I knew it I found
my self leaving for lunch with Claudio.
Walking towards a supermarket at Zattare,
I take in the sun. The same song keeps
playing in my head.
And the sunshine hurts my eyes...
It's called Sunshine by Twista feat. Anthony Hamilton.
What ever happened to Twista anyway?
Usually I pack my lunch the night before
but today I decided, or should I say
was forced, not to, because of my lack
of food. This wasn't a problem, for 4
euros I brought 2 peaches, ciabatta,
and 100 grams of San Daniele prosciutto
along with a drink. Walking back to a peer
over the grand canal I meet with a few
other interns to enjoy our meals and continue
tanning.
Arriving back at the musuem in time to put
my peaches in the staff room's refrigerator,
I return to my post behind the ticket
counter. The influx of visitors has been slow and
I have time to sketch out a view
of the museum from the grand canal
based on the cover of
the collection's catalogue.
Four hours pass, and Patrizia, the
woman in charge of selling tickets,
lets me leave 15 minutes early to go
help with the closing of the museum.
I move around the temporary exhibition
(mostly works by Jason Martin) and
clear out straggling visitors. I then
stand in the garden showing the
remaining vistors where the exit is.
One of them tells me to calm down in
Italian. After all the visitors have
left the museum, I help put
burlap sacks over the paintings not
protected by glass. This task is called
"pjs" and I candidly put the museum to sleep.
It's about 6:15 pm and
I find myself walking
with my coworkers towards
the same grocery store
where I brought my lunch.
The song stays in my head
and I start to think
about where the original
sample came from. I pick
up a lot of cold cuts
from the store, 6 small
roles of bread, beer,
hand-rolled ravioli,
olive oil, apples,
"breakfast juice," and Italian chocolate,
a diet without enough fruits and vegetables.
I carry my groceries back to my apartment,
which hurts my back and arms. Getting back
I put on my wifebeater and do pullups. Then I
research the sampled track. The artist, Bill
Withers (Just the Two of Us, also,the original
acoustic rendition of Ain't no Sunshine) the
song I'm looking for: Lovely Day.
Nothing could be more fitting.
