Voyeur I - Roma

From the moment I sat down, my view of the grand Piazza San Pietro was hindered by a larger adult man. His face was glued to his phone, oblivious to all surroundings-especially the uncomfortably close distance he maintained to me. He appeared to be alone and not apart of any tourist group, merely him and his phone. From the clean-cut and styled hair, leather jacket, tight jeans, and Puma shoes, I concluded that if not a local, he was European. I never heard him speak, but simply watched from my seat his confusion and even slight frustration with his mobile device. For the first time in what seemed like ten minutes, he came up for air and headed away from the basilica and toward the porticos. It was too sunny to see his screen and thus continued his habit under the shady marble. The man is trying to contact someone; perhaps a relative or maybe a girlfriend. Victory! He figures out how to set-up a facetime call with his girlfriend and heads back into the piazza to show her the sights. Perhaps he is on a work-related trip and enjoying his downtime in Rome by visiting the sights. Their relationship is recent and with that, it didn’t logically make sense for her to tag along. Or, as it could be a work trip, they didn’t have a lot of free-time to site see and also had work back at home. Either way, he is finally adventuring around the piazza, yet still only perceiving the visual stimuli through his darkened phone screen. The virtual tour was brief and he disappeared away into the bustling stream of people.



(Piazza San Pietro, 5/23/19)

Momentary Blindness I - Roma

I sit, nearly squatting, on a curb of a cobblestone walkway that lines the perimeter of the piazza. Comfortable in temperature, the sun hides behind layers of clouds while a soft, cool breeze puts my clothes at flight and flutters the corner of my page. Although I stay quiet and simply pause all interactions, my surroundings stay vibrant with bustling life. The Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi is settled a mere few feet behind me. The gushing of water across the monument permeates and drowns out the faint sounds of the city. The sound of the fountain and the delicate aroma of the nearby restaurants are the only elements that remain consistent in my current sustained position. Fighting the urge to visually direct my attention to every noise is one of the greatest challenges while engulfed in a stimulating atmosphere. Thousands of murmured conversations fill my ears with moments of comprehension and others with clarity, but a linguistic barricade prevents full awareness. A man standing on the corner across the street begins to wail in an attempt to lure in  Americans, but after a few minutes of trying, he accepted failure and ceased. Coming from behind, at least two men begin a conversation in Italian. Close enough in proximity to hear, yet lacking the education to eavesdrop. Moments later, one begins singing “I Love You Baby” which I easily pick up as it is in English and of course, the one and only Frank Sinatra. Now honed in on these men, my mind blurs the peripheral noise and I listen intently to the fun duet unfolding behind me. Following the terse entertainment, everything becomes clear again and I feel as though I can hear a vast range of tones from miles away. When maneuvering through the congested city, it may be hard to appreciate your neighboring environs due to constantly keeping your head on a swivel to avoid people, cars, bikes, etc. But once you take a moment to sit and truly perceive your other senses, you immerse yourself in a new realm.




(Piazza Navona, 5/21/19, 2:50pm)

Giornale

  Days have passed since our first group excursion and the imagery remains as clear as day. When the clock struck one pm we gathered outside Case Center by the parking lot. The air was warm and soft to the skin; a new feeling for us Skidmore students. Anxious to depart on our mini adventure, I scan my neighboring peers and count along with the professor to discover we are still missing a few students. As if they had a ringing in their ears, they all appeared within five minutes of each other. We made a gameplan for when to meet and how to get there, and just like that we were cramming inside our assigned cars. Sandwiched between two of my classmates in the backseat, we carried on conversations about school, friends, politics, and life. The driver and shotgun rider had their own discussions with muffled music playing in the background as if there was an invisible partition. Light banter quickened the drive and in no time we arrived at a church parking lot in Albany.

We all funneled out of the cars and gathered around our professors where they distributed our headsets and assignment papers. While testing out the listening devices, we began our excursion by venturing off the path to what we thought would be a secret waypoint to some form of spectacle. To our demise, it was the blind leading the blind into a small off-road wooded area that led to nowhere. We quickly reassessed and found ourselves at a hidden opening with a fountain at the center. Walking around the monument we learned it was a war memorial enclosed by a tall wall of brush and growth. Informational engravings lined the circumference of the fountain in which followed a historical timeline of World War II. My fingers grazed the deep curves and lines as I walked the perimeter listening to Curley’s commentary while simultaneously reading the inscriptions. Like a group of little ducklings following their mother, we made our way to the street where our Empire State plaza journey truly began.

Excitement heightened as we read the plaza title, “Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller Empire State Plaza” in large letters displayed above a lineup of doors. Hidden under a bridge, I wondered why the big heading and entrance would truly be so tucked away from the public. To add to the confusion, we passed the doors and found that the first few modes of entree were blocked. We progressed along the street until we came across a little path that seemed to have wrapped around and led to the left of the plaza. A vast uncluttered, symmetrically planned out area had opened up before our eyes. Looking to my right up towards the horizon, stood the large New York State Museum. A giant fixture of concrete cut-outs and vertical bars with layers increasing in size the closer it got to the clouds. We swiftly advanced up the ascending stairway of wide steps requiring at least two steps a piece. The closer I got to the museum, the more it resembled a dull columned concrete slab. But once I found myself at the top, I turned around to see the full plaza from a high-up northeast perspective. With the large rectangular reflecting pool at the center, a perimeter was created by abstract geometric buildings of more concrete lining the sides and tunneling the eye towards the capitol building that sat at the end. As a class, we analyzed the functionality and presentation of this centrally raised space while overlooking the life that was happening within it. It was at that moment where I was really able to see everything for what it was and use my newfound knowledge to interpret the plaza’s use and aims for the future of its community whilst paying tribute to the past.

Our journey continued throughout the plaza as we walked to different locations and looked at it from different angles and viewpoints. We were able to venture off on our own while also having worthwhile discussions as a group about its civic values, orientation, aims, etc. The excursion as a whole was educational and interesting on an academic and personal level. If only I had the time to share all of the sites I observed and the experiences I had on this trip!

Empire State Plaza, Albany, NY, 4/7/19

Ekphrasis

From the stratified unknown
the earthly stem sprouts.
Flushed with shades of nutritious greens,
the flowers give birth to beauty.
The blooms bring life
to all that's mighty.
Sitting atop his floral thrown
with legs curled in like the petals below.
Soft and delicate like a cloud in the sky.
But layers of silk hang heavy,
encasing his limbs from neck to feet.
Comfortable upon his plush bud
as delicate winds whistle.
Loose attire find themselves
lost in the stream.
Subdued blends of warm and cool
mingle in his presence.
An artifact of nature
high above, but at peace with those below.
He watches from beyond
with the purest of lens.
A golden bowl grasped in palm
coats his elegance in power.
What is within remains unknown.
His nectar of choice undisclosed.
Lackluster to the eye
muted effects of gold spread to every ornament.
Large golden hoops suspend from his earlobes.
Substantially weighty,
they stretch the ears to full extension
bridging the gap between head and shoulders.
He raises his right arm
while grasping a token
with multi-colored ribbons fluttering in its trail.
Showering those beneath
with his judicious influence.
His scalp is wrapped in knots of white
tucked behind both ears
and flooding down the front of his chest.
Upon the bandage he wears a crown of prestigious power
that blends into a holy backdrop.
Surrounding his head
the halo of heavenly being.
As petals flowing in the breeze
he is one with the earth.
Not emerging from the sky,
but flourishing from human terrain.




(Tang 3/23/19, Unknown Artist (Tibet), Padmasambhava as Loden Choksé, 17th Century)

Voyeur

As soon as I immerse myself into the wide open, uncovered plot of land within Congress Park, my primed ears hear the sound of thin metal clicking together. A sound I am conditioned to perk-up to; I turn my head with excitement to happily find a dog running after a hollowed rubber frisbee. It is as if I can hear those tagged collars from a mile away. I find a bench nearby to sit and observe the lively movements and actions of my new four-legged friend. The moderately sized black and grey speckled dog had a soft tint of blue that was enhanced when holding the bright blue frisbee within its mouth. I followed its path of retrieval with my eyes until my attention shifted to the man responsible for the powerful toss. He’s wearing an oversized heathered grey sweatshirt, with the hood up over both his head and baseball cap. The sweatpants had a logo down the pant leg that vaguely looked like the word university - though hard to truly say from my distance. Perhaps he is currently in college or a recent graduate. His face and actions tell me perhaps mid-20’s, in that he is still young and fit, but mature and somewhat experienced. The dog knows him very well and is tuned into his every move. He has full trust in his owner and is more obedient than anyone can hope for. The man performs little jumps and spurts of running to hype-up his companion. The interactions between the two of them are wholesome and pure. I continue to scan the surrounding area but it seems he came alone. Perhaps this dog is his first major sense of responsibility now that he is on his own. Or simply the first addition to his near future family. Nonetheless, the dog looks beautiful and healthy, and so does he. To loved and be loved no matter the species; that is a wonderful experience.



(Congress Park, 2/23/19)

Momentary Blindness

Flakes of dust begin to layer atop my keyboard as I type. The penetrative aroma is untraceable to a single element, yet distinguishable and common. My attention wavers between the hollow clunking of hooves on pavement, and the crunching of tires along intermittent patches of solid ice. As the door opens, what feels like a gust of wind sweeps the baby hairs that frame my face that tickle my forehead and cheekbones. In that same motion, cold air creeps its way against the current and kisses every patch of bare skin on my body. Finally after what felt like minutes, the door is closed. What took them so long? Someone begins to sweep the aisle way outside the door. The sound is muffled, but I can still hear the slight scraping of straw across the concrete slab that seems to clear in rhythm. My mouth becomes dry, and I notice a very subtle grit in the notches of my teeth like sand at a beach. But this is definitely not sand. I assume a lesson has started as the repetitive sounds of hooves have muted and transitioned into people talking. I can faintly hear the instructions and critiques of my coach, yet can feel the power and depth of her words in my chest. The volume sharply rises on her dampened commentary. Uh oh, that doesn’t seem good. Before I become absorbed in this newfound situation, my teammate knocks rapidly, though softly, on the window to the right of where I am sitting. My head jolts towards her direction to find her purely waving goodbye as she heads towards her car. After a swift wave back, I recenter myself. The volume had returned to a normal decibel within the arena as I filled my lungs with the crisp, dust ridden air. No matter where my attention wanders, I am continually distracted by the elements of climate; perhaps I need another coat.

(Van Lennep Riding Center, 2/1/19)