All that Glitters

 I love how easy it is to take, store and enjoy our many many memories with our digital tools. Years ago, when I was shooting rolls of 12 ( later 24 or even 36) exposure Kodak films,the dilemma was "do I take this shot, maybe I'll need it for later? Only three left on the roll." I always succumbed. Our returns from cross country camping trips were always accompanied by the rattle of those little exposed rolls of film in the arm-rest cubby.

Thanks to some personal photo file management this week, I came across this intriguing structure, captured "for later." The wonders of our first jet-lagged evening in Melbourne in January 2018 were just too numerous to process. So, click.

This is the Forum Theatre - many names, many uses over its 99 years. I wanted to see and learn more. Interested? No, maybe this one is just for me. But if you are, this Streetview link will get you into the neighbourhood. And down to the Forum Theatre on Flinders Street in the centre of the CBD. 

Here's an alluring history of the Forum Theatre. It's fascinating to view the aerial photos which show the the building circled. How small this once-impressive structure is. How precarious in the high-stakes Central Business District real estate game. How long does it have? 

I've taken this description from the Alluring World site article: "Architecturally the Forum Theatre is a masterpiece of eclecticism because its facade draws heavily from Moorish and Gothic architectural styles with pointed arches, domes and minaret-like spires rising above Flinders Street. The most iconic feature is the twin minarets that dominate the building's skyline, making it one of the most distinctive silhouettes in Melbourne...above the entrance there are intricate arabesques and sandstone coloured carvings..."

The 1927 theatre and its near neighbour Flinders Street Station are the old guard, civic architecture remaining from the heady days when the state of Victoria was booming and confident - and immensely wealthy - thanks to the discovery of gold in 1851 and subsequent rushes.    The emerging city needed public architecture to express all that. And here you have it, 'Marvellous Melbourne.' 

The grand and a bit pompous Flinders Street Station (completed 1910, replacing an earlier one) beggars description. A quick search tells me it's "a striking example of French Renaissance style mixed with Edwardian and Art Nouveau features" and notes the "ochre-yellow rendered concrete and red brick facade," its copper domes and the clock tower at the massive arched entrance.

How far we've come. Left, In the foreground, the striking Federation Square.

The bold copper dome and haughty classical details, window arches like disapproving raised eyebrows,  hold their own amid CBD busyness. 

A couple of other exuberant survivors of the boom years include:  

The assertive neoclassical Royal Exhibition Building, built 1879-80. Its peripatetic history is well described in this Wikipedia entry. I'll just borrow some of the style descriptions, thanks: "composed of brick, timber, steel and slate, the Exhibition Building is representative of Byzantine, Romanesque, Lombardic and Italian Renaissance styles", dome modelled on Florence Cathedral, with "the scale of the French Beaux Arts."

The Princess Theatre, another Victorian standout, was built in 1886 (a reworking of an original 1854 structure, with 1922 remodelling, 2018 conservation.) It's in the opulent Second Empire style, with central pediment, three Mansard roof domes topped with crowns, cast iron roof cresting and multicoloured roof slate, elaborately ornamented. Gold wealth statement architecture.

Inside, the theatre holds 1500 seats, featured a chandelier, marble staircase and showy foyers, and boasted innovations such as cutting-edge electric stage lighting and the world's first retractable roof, providing for starry night performances. Quite a thing in the day, well-conserved and pretty grand even now.

And there are many many more worthy contemporaries, go have a look.

For a peek at the origins of the wealth that built Melbourne, one has only to travel to spots like Ballarat about a hundred kilometers distant. Ballarat, the epicentre of the Victorian Gold Rush (1851 through late 1860s) demonstrates the same wealth, confidence and flamboyance of the Gold Rush era, in frontier style. But that's for another post. 

One little Square

 Travelling is such temptation. Every step opens new doors, and on and on. A walk through a town in France with all its layers of history laid bare, gives such joy on meeting special places - and creates infinite temptations to deepen the relationship - but one moves on. I loathe the expression I've heard from louder-than-necessary tourists that they've "done" Sienna, or York, or Arles. 

The heart's desire always is to revisit, find a base, live long and explore. But alas, not in this finite lifetime. I am so very grateful for the small sips I have taken at this deep well.

 Fortunately I have an opportunity to revisit via my photos, and learn more from the vast array of sources at our disposal. 

So, a few thoughts about Arles.

I am particularly fond of this photo. I was doing a quick mental tally of the Romanesque details on the facade of the Church of St. Trophime, when I was stopped by this timeless image of a priest and a beggar. Slow down, girl.

This moment has been on repeat at Place de la Republique for a long time. The church was built in the 12th and 15th centuries: the portal sculpture in the Last Judgement tympanum is considered among the best Romansque work anywhere. 

Here's a better description than I'll ever create, thanks to SmartHistory.org.

The nave is 65 feet tall. Say that out loud to yourself. 

Here's St. Trophime on Place de la Republique, Arles, thanks to Streetview.

 A circumnavigation of the square reveals some undistinguished (to me) neighours, but oh look, there's a fourth century red granite Roman obelisk, originally in Constantine II's circus, rediscovered broken in the 14th century. It's perched on an 18th century  water fountain.

The Hotel de Ville, opened 1676, yielded a moment I'll not long forget. Entering the main level, expecting the busy classical decoration of the facade, we encountered a shallow marble vaulted space, serene and beautiful, marble stone-cutting astonishing and beautiful, so geometrically perfect that the ceiling's weight is borne without cenral pillars.

Then there was this beauty, St. Anne's, a seventeenth century southern Gothic church now serving as exhibition space (thanks Wiki). No time to get to know her. Just five minutes away is the hospital where Vincent once recovered. Here's a closer look. Away we go.

All this on one little square in one historic town in exquisite Provence. 

My Big Back Yard

One of the best features of the tour I recently completed in Provence was having a home base - 10 nights in spectacularly historic Avignon. Now anyone who's travelled by group tour knows the pace can be a bit mad, and changing hotels can be the down side of seeing a lot of places one longs to see. So it was a treat to have a neighbourhood. In Provence. Next door to a medieval wonder.

I spent several days on walkabouts - my favourite solo walks, map, occasionally consulted, in hand but fully aware that I would be lost much of the time, and for most of it that wouldn't matter at all. The hour prior to a restaurant reservation was usually a bit more focussed.

The hotel was two minutes from one of the gates in the medieval wall. Here you are thanks to Google Streetview. Through that gate is the Rhone River. Once through the gate, a glance to the right and there's the famed Pont d'Avignon doing its best to cross to Barthelasse Island (the free shuttle boat does a better job.)

Just so you're oriented.

Now, had you turned left on exiting Hotel.Mercure, passed an enticing clothing shop spilling out onto the sidewalk (always a challenge) and taken the stairway up between two stone walls,  you would have arrived here.

La Place du Palais. The city's centre for cultural events, social life, tourism. It has some rather fine features - at the far end, the delightful Carre du Palais  where we dined one night, at the other, the 14th century Petit Palais, once the home of bishops and cardinals, now a fine medieval/Renaissance art museum. Outside the Palais is a water garden with generous plantings and banners featuring some of the artworks - makes a delightful spot for an impromptu picnic, where I dined one evening with a pleasant fellow traveller, after a chance encounter in the Carrefour picking up picnic supper. 

 On the highest point is Notre Dame des Doms, and to the left of the main entrance to the church are the gates to the Rocher du Doms, an 1830s pleasure garden with heart-breaking views, magnificent trees, water features, a playground,and a delightfully-hosted tiny trailer which I visited twice on hot days for chilled Perrier.

My lttle oasis in the great oasis that is Rocher des Doms Gardens. One of the first things I seek out whenever I visit a city is the park. The green lung of a city is a necessity for my urban well being with the  green beauty, relative peace and quiet, and those beneficial stress-reducing phytoncides.

 I've failed to mention the centrepiece of my photo - the 12th/13th century Palais des Papes. Now there's a story. Have a Streetview look - although I must say the square looked nicer in May!

I want to know a lot more of its history, so I'll post again to make sure all those new insights get anchored somewhere reliable.

Here's a nice little video visit courtesy of National Geographic. There are several others to avoid. I shudder at some of the dross put up on YouTube. 

I shake my head to think all of these places were part of my daily walk, just a short time ago.  

The United Colours of Roussillon

Architecture nuts are inevitably amateur geologists as well. Building talk leads to discussions about building materials, decorative finishes and the changes wrought by the builder's or sculptor's hand. 

Tossing in some geography, we debate the sourcing of the stone, the miles materials travel.  Some of the oldest and grandest monuments travel the farthest -  like the (stolen) black Egyptian granite statues in Split, Croatia or obelisks in Rome.

 The workmanlike limestone of the pyramids, the Welsh bluestone at Stonehenge. 

The infinitely malleable tuffeau of Chenonceau. 

 

Closer to home, I love knowing that Perth's astonishing purple sandstone was quarried near Otty Lake in the same county. Humbler story, but fascinating.

My interest in building materials made our visit to Roussillon in the Luberon area of Provence a delight. For in Roussillon, the red clay sandstone standing in eroded pillars in ancient quarries is the origin of the famed ochre pigment which moved the cave artists to creation, inspired centuries of artwork and has lent its earthy yellow, orange and red hues to this most picturesque village.

Here's a good description of the area on this Avignon and Provence site.

And we would be remiss, in this Provence beloved of artists, not to include the artist's perspective. Do visit this link, it's a wonder. 

And here, because my role is as a  consumer of beauty rather than a creator, is my open-mouthed homage to the village as I rambled about, its rustic walls painted like the earth around it 

I will raise a glass to you, patriot ...

 I swear somebody out there can read my my mind. Back in December I was giving thought to writing a post on the Parthenon sculptures, a subject about which I became passionate on my trip to Athens last fall. And this week, although I am absorbed in 'travelling' back to Provence, enjoying photos taken there a bit over a week ago, this happened...

My Microsoft news feed, or whatever it is that just drops random news bits onto a sidebar on my screen (I suppose these items are 'curated' by some algorithm or other, but all that is pretty creepy) floated some pretty optimistic news. 

The story was about - here's the Greek press link - the marble Parthenon frieze sculptures removed in a colossal act of vandalism positioned as 'a rescue' back in the first decade of the 19th century by the larcenous Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin.  I quote here: "British Museum chairman George Osborne answered that he is 'pretty optimistic' that the Parthenon Marbles will be repatriated to Athens." Any return will be complicated, given British Museum policies against returns, but I'm not writing about the logistics.

I'm writing about the passion this story has generated for a very long time. Fundamental to the story is the name I've used for these marble adornments. They reside as specimens in the British Museum under the name the Elgin Marbles. I'm calling them by the name Greek patriots use, the Parthenon Marbles.

It's complicated. At one time, there wasn't suitable accommodation for the works. Athens responded with the creation of the superb National Archeological Museum. Here's a fine account thanks to NPR.

A couple of notes on the museum. In many places, within and without the building, one walks on glass floors revealing the structures of yet another culture found during excavations for the construction. One of the challenges was finding a place in Athens which doesn't boast archeological treasure.

You can get a sense of the huge space which houses dozens of galleries from this imperfect photo - can you spot the original caryatids of the Erechteion under lights on the middle level?

Here 'they' are in situ.

Our guide in Athens was Stavros  I remember his emotion as he talked about an array of plaster casts of the original frieze adorning the Parthenon, and a few original bits left behind. I read that in their haste to gather marble sculpture, Elgin's people damaged and abandoned many pieces. There was tacit approval by the Ottomans who were in control at the time, but I have also read the group over-stepped their permissions? Please correct me if my facts are inaccurate.

I was moved by our guide's words, as I am about all the stories of historical cultural appropriation and the overdue return of items to their original owner/creators in many countries, including my own . As we left Stravros after our tour of the museum and the Acropolis, I shook his hand and told him I'd return (in spirit likely) to raise a glass of good Greek red wine with him, the day the Parthenon Marbles come home.

Here's a wonderful article about the Parthenon Gallery, with some fabulous photos. This walking tour gives you a glimpse of, and a feel for the modern-day busyness surrounding the timeless Acropolis. 

This link to  Wonderful Museums.com gives you a much more detailed version of the debate. And one more link to the arguments surrounding the repatriation of the Parthenon Marbles    

The Incident at Arles

From such torment, such enduring beauty. Just recently, we followed Vincent Van Gogh's footsteps in Arles, Provence. We did not, however, follow them as far as they led - for this was a famously tormented man: mental illness latterly diagnosed as bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, temporal lobe epilepsy and depression, exacerbated by malnutritian and alcohol abuse, leading ultimately to hospitalization and suicide. A tormented genius indeed. Most people remember the dramatic incident where he cut his ear after a terrible argument with his brother, sometime protector and art agent. I've often wondered what went through his mind at that moment.

But this troubled man Van Gogh "saw the light" of Provence, and painted it. From this troubled soul came the glorious light of Provence, the revolutionary splintering light and colour, for which we remember him. So it was deeply moving for me to follow our incomparable guide as we walked the streets and lanes of Arles, and stopped to pay homage to Van Gogh in several sites he immortalized in his work.  

These photos are of the sun-dappled courtyard of La Maison de Sante in Arles. After his dramatic self-harm episode, Vincent was taken by brother Theo to this hospital for a recovery. According to our guide, he was remarkably prolific in this environment. 

The gardens and porticos have been restored to the colour and vibrancy which inspired the hospitalized artist. I turned my back on the tempting souvenir shop and gobbled up the light and colour.

We passed two other locations which appear in Van Gogh's work. The Roman arena was the setting for bullfights and other spectacles; Vincent captured the "magnificent crowds" in all their colour and motion. This interpretive panel outside the arena's walls explains. 

And finally Van Gogh's Cafe Terrasse at Night. I neglected to get a photo of the information posted outside Le Cafe a Nuit. The cafe has been verified as its inspiration, despite claims made by others. Could I have been distracted  by the loveliness of the square in front of the yellow cafe? Once again I thank Wikipedia for the painting (and yes, I am a supporter.) The most beautiful squares are sheltered by Provence's magnificent (and endangered) plane trees.

Frederic Mistral

And in a great example of art imitating life imitating art - I read somewhere that the cafe has been decorated in recent years to mirror the painting! 

Finally, if this song has popped into your mind, as it plays in mine, here is a YouTube link to Don McLean's lovely 1971 tune, Starry Starry Night.

And if someone can tell me how to create French accents in Blogger, I would be most obliged.