take me away to tuscany

^^gianni berengo gardin, "toscana," 1965

You set me and my thoughts a-wandering

along the path to the eternal void;

and then

this wretched time flees, and with it

the throng of woes afflicting it and me;

and while I behold your peacefulness,

that warlike spirit that rages within me sleeps.

-Ugo Foscolo "To Evening" 1803

I took an art history class my freshman year of college. I'd never seen a classic work of art, let alone could I discern meaning and symbolism from one. The only creative bone I had in my body was a love of writing. I dabbled in poetry, but mostly I knew prose. I talked to my RA (resident assistant) about it in my dorm. We had a funny relationship - best friends, but sometimes something more that lingered so far under the surface I feel that funny tickle of uncertainty even typing it now, so many years later. But there was always something between us that clicked. We often talked until five in the morning - him laying on his bunk, me on his couch that he typically used for mediation and to make residents feel comfortable with a glass of tea or water while he helped them work out a problem. On one of those late nights, we talked about art. He liked art, appreciated it, had some exposure to it. I wistfully wondered what it'd be like to know more about it, to be versed in it, to look at something and know, with clarity in your soul, that it was good, moving, touching. In true RA fashion, he encouraged me to register for a course the following semester. Art History 101. He even told me which professor was best. I laughed. I really laughed at it. I could barely afford to stay at school - I'd narrowly escaped having to pack my bags and dejectedly move back to Georgia because I didn't have the financial aid I needed. To tack on a class that wasn't necessary to graduate felt frivolous, ridiculous even. I registered for that course anyway. 

I loved most of my classes in college. I loved learning. But this art class is one of my favorites I took. I got lost every day in the giant auditorium, felt exhilarated walking into the art building on campus, surrounded by poetry and photographs on the walls, pottery and sculptures around me, murals hanging from the ceiling. I pretended to fit in, melded into the scene around me, felt like, I could be an artist in another life. The mix of Bohemian joy attached so freely to the idea of "artist" and the East Coast education and cultured upbringing that seems to imbibe every collection of art filled me with a desire to be something I wasn't, had never been, but could be? Maybe? It was the possibility of a world I'd never known and where it could take me that transfixed me. 

I learned a lot in my single art history class. I found that I studied more for it than the English classes I lived for, and the foreign policy classes that breathed new life into me. Because it was so new to me, so different and unnatural, I worked harder at it. I left the class with an "A," and an appreciation for works of art where none had been before. 

But in all the years since then, I've stepped foot into a gallery less than a handful of times. I've forgotten how easily a work of art can take me somewhere I've never been and make me feel like I've lived there all my life. I've forgotten that art can be a time machine and a transporter, an emotional outlet, and an intellectual pursuit. 

This weekend, I let photographs take me to Italy, and I didn't want to leave. I visited the Phillips Collection - a beautiful, astounding collection of modern art in D.C., specifically to see the "Next Stop: Italy," an exhibit of 12 photos by Italian photographers, each paired with words from an Italian poet. 

I dilly-dallied in Italy, forlorn for places I've never been, uplifted by trails that mirror my path - winding and blazed, faded and walked, brand new and untarnished. I went to Italy this weekend for the cost of $12 and a willingness to let my mind wander. It won't be so long, this time, until I let my novice enjoyment of art take me somewhere new.

if you go... 

phillips collection

next stop italy exhibit runs through 4/28/13

admission: $12

tryst coffee is served on the bottom level; i recommend a good book and a chai tea

also by me

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