Katie, Plain and Tall

So remember how these are two of my favorite books ever?

Well maybe you didn't know that, but they are. I picked up My Ántonia at B&N maybe two years ago, and I'm still not quite sure why I bought it. Here's what the summary on the back cover says: 

Widely recognized as Willa Cathe'rs greatest novel, My Ántonia is a soulful and rich portrait of a pioneer woman's simple yet heroic life. The spirited daughter of Bohemian immigrants, Ántonia must adapt to a hard existence on the desolate prairies of the Midwest. Enduring childhood poverty, teenage seduction, and family tragedy, she eventually becomes a wife and mother on a Nebraska farm. A fictional record of how women helped forge the communities that formed a nation, My Ántonia is also a hauntingly eloquent celebration of the strength, courage, and spirit of America's early pioneers.

You're all dying to go out and read it now, I know. When I read this, I thought "oh, this is exactly what I want to read about - pioneers, feminist immigrants and Nebraska - all of my favorite topics! NOT. Snoozefest! Gag"  but it stayed in my hand and I bought it, took it home and, eventually, read it.

I loved it. LOVED it. Granted, the subject matter isn't on the top of my list for things I like to read about, but it was so brilliantly and beautifully written. I then went on to read O Pioneers! and was not disappointed. It, too, was well written and just fantastic. I wish I didn't have anything to do today or I'd spend the whole day reading them again.

Now this post isn't an advertisement for you to go out and read these books, but rather an introduction to something else. I watched a movie last night on Netflix called Sweet Land:

Here's what Netflix had to say about it:

Norwegian-American farmer Olaf Torvik (Tim Guinee) and his rural Minnesotan community must struggle to overcome years of anti-German propaganda and prejudice when he discovers that his mail-order bride, Inge (Elizabeth Reaser), is not only a German but also an accidental Socialist. Writer Ali Selim also directs this Independent Spirit Award-winning tale of love's ability to triumph over ignorance.


Again. Oh joy.


BUT, a few things interested me - one, that this was an independent film, and those are generally pretty good and two, Elisabeth Reaser was nominated for the 2007 Independent Spirit Award for Best Female Lead in this film. If the name sounds familiar, it might be because Reaser also plays the vampire mom in the Twilight movies (but I won't hold that against her. She did go to Julliard).


Anyway, I loved this movie! It has a very pensive tone, with focus more on the actions of the characters rather than their dialogue. Most people would probably think it is boring and too slow, but my friends said that about Marie Antoinette (with Kirsten Dunst) and I liked that one a lot, too. But this one was really well done. Poignant without being cheesy. The acting is really stellar, both Reaser and the Tim Guinee as the male lead (he's also pretty babe). Even Alan Cumming didn't manage to annoy me in this movie! That in and of itself is an accomplishment.


I just think it's interesting that these stories about pioneers and farming in the Midwest a hundred plus years ago would all really strike me. I don't know why, they just did. 


I guess I'm just a sucker for a story that is well told.

Vans and Braves

Good news. Today I went to the mall for the first time in about 2387223 years. I finally bought two things that I have really been wanting:

I'm a happy girl. BE HAPPY FOR ME.

Venite, cantiam

So I'm taking a humanities class this semester, and yesterday we looked at some works by Rembrandt that really struck me, I don't know why. Anyway, I thought I'd post them here for your viewing pleasure.

Portrait of Agatha Bas

Portrait of an 83-year-old woman

We also looked at some sculptures by Bernini and paintings by Caravaggio and it took me back to Rome...sigh. Seeing pictures of art just isn't the same as seeing the real thing.

*le sigh*

So remember when I used to live in Italy and spent my weeekdays after class wandering around Siena window-shopping with my friends and eating endless amounts of baked goods from Sclavi and pastry shops? And remember how I spent my weekends wandering about towns all over Italy trying out exotic gelato flavors and devouring as much art as I could possibly manage to stuff into my brain and heart?

I do. Can I go back to that instead of the 4 exams and a paper that are up next on my academic hit parade?

Welcome to my life.

Michelangelo Buonarotti

I should probably blog about something pertaining to my life right now, but I'm gonna play the "this is my ITALY blog" and instead talk about Italy again.

Remember? Italy? I used to live there?

Right.

Well for my humanitites final project I had to write 10 short papers on different works of art and such that we got to see in real life. For this blog I've decided to post one of the papers I wrote, with a chance of posting others in the future, depending upon the public's response. Anyway, here's what I wrote about the Last Judgment by Michelangelo, on the back wall of the Sistine Chapel:

(Here's a poor representation of the Last Judgment)

            Oh, the Sistine Chapel. When your neck gets too tired to keep staring at the frescoed ceiling, all you have to do is look at the Last Judgment on the back wall to get your Michelangelo fix. Instead of bringing beauty, glory and fame to some other chapel, Pope Julius II decided to bring more agony and humility to Michelangelo by condemning him to spend four more years painting in the Sistine. The result is Michelangelo-mania at the end of the Vatican Museum marathon.

            I was herded into the Sistine Chapel with a German tour group on my heels. It was a cloudy day and therefore poorly lit in the chapel, which made it even more difficult to take in the frescoes than just trying to tune out the incessant drone of voices and avoid running into one of the hundreds of other people with their eyes focused on the ceiling instead of their feet.

            To Michelangelo’s credit, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is a tremendous accomplishment. Fantastically designed and executed, every inch is covered with fresco. But the Last Judgment is what really caught my eye. I was first impressed by the sheer size of it, something I have found to be the most misleading about reproductions of art in pictures and textbooks – the size. What looks like and over-crowded judgment scene in pictures is not quite so crowded-looking in person. There are still many, many figures in the fresco, all of them with massive frames and bulging muscles, even the women. While I recognize the artistic skill it takes to even begin, let alone complete such an undertaking as the Last Judgment, I am not convinced that Michelangelo is a painter. His human forms are much too muscular, too body builder, and all too similar for me.

            Even Jesus is a rippling mass of muscle and flesh. I had never seen Jesus quite so broad-shouldered and wide before. He seems uncharacteristically formed, even for Michelangelo, considering the slender, less bulky Christs he depicts in both the Pietà and Christ statue in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. Perhaps, though, those pre-resurrection Christs are not the perfect forms, perfect instead being his Last Judgment Christ.

            I always thought Christ was oddly placed in the fresco. He is not at the very top surrounded by angels, nor is he in the center of the work. But seeing the fresco in the Sistine cleared away my confusion. As the sun broke through the clouds outside, light poured in through the windows, illuminating the chapel. With a small gasp, I saw the light shine directly on Christ, as though the chapel had brightened as a reflection of His own illuminating glory. I realized then that Christ is perfectly situated in the painting, something I would never have known had I see it anywhere else.

            The Sistine Chapel is not my favorite place in Rome. I was glad to have a chance to see the amazing works of art that cover every inch of the interior, not all by Michelangelo, but it was a perfect embodiment of Rome: loud, rule-ignoring tourists from 20 different countries crowded in a stuffy room with a handful of jaded Italian guards who unsuccessfully attempt to silence the crowd, all of which is taking place in a building that is older than America and full of so much great art it is dizzying. If there had been some gypsies and chain smokers packed in there as well, it might well have been the worst place in all of Rome. But I suppose it is only fitting. After all, for Michelangelo it probably was the worst place in Rome.

Christ - in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva

Pieta'