Bologna - City of Porticoes

Watch our video of Bologna here.

In 2007, we spent the month of July travelling around Italy, at the start of a nine-month trip around the world (that would include more of Europe, the Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia). On Day 12, we met a man at a roadside stop overlooking the extraordinary town of Pitigliano. "Bella," said the man. "Very bella," I whispered in return. He was a doctor from Bologna, visiting Tuscany on his holiday. He asked about our plans for Italy, and was visibly miffed that those plans did not include Bologna. 

Pitigliano, Italy

"Everyone goes to Rome, Florence, Venice…but they forget about my beautiful Bologna. Promise me you will go." We could not promise that as our plans did not have us venturing any further north than Florence, but he didn't seem any happier that we wouldn't be seeing Venice either. He had spent a great deal of time exploring his home country, but, "Bologna is my favourite." We went our separate ways, him back to his home, us around the world (but avoiding Bologna).

From that moment on, I had this little dream of Bologna in my head. It was twelve years before we would make our way back to Italy, and it would probably annoy our doctor friend that this time, we would spend a week in Venice but only three days in Bologna. Venice, Verona, San Marino, and Bologna. Finally we were here.

As I looked back on the pictures this past week, I realized that I still hadn't given Bologna the attention it deserves. One of the city's most striking features, is its forty kilometres of porticoes. Yes, forty kilometres, a full marathon's worth, of covered walkways. And not just something they threw up to keep the rain of our heads, but beautiful, arched walkways that are worth visiting the city for on their own. When the university opened in 1100 (yes, 1100), students flocked to the city. With a need for more living space, buildings were expanded on the street side, from the second floor up, creating both more rooms for students, and covered walkways at ground level. You can walk all over the city on a rainy day and only feel the rain when you have to cross a street.

A few covered walkways in Bologna

The most amazing continuous portico is along Via San Luca, a four kilometre covered path up to the Sanctuary of the Madonna of San Luca, where you will pass by 660-plus arches on your way up to the church. Despite the warm spring day (for a couple of prairie Canadians) several Italians passed us by wearing light parkas. Many people used it for light daily exercise or a strenuous and quick run.

Heading up the path to San Luca

Brilliantly sunny on the way up.

Kind of cloudy when we neared the top.

The top of San Luca in the distance.

Sanctuary of the Madonna of San Luca

Bologna is also home to a number of stunning churches, from the Basilica di San Petronio in Piazza Maggiore to the Seven Churches complex in Santo Stefano Square, along with many others: Basilica di San Domenico, Cattedrale Metropolitana di San Pietro, Basilica di San Giacomo Maggiore, and more.

Part of Santo Stefano Square showing some of the seven churches.

I can't actually remember what church this ceiling is in.

If you're looking for opulence, you'll find it here.

This is one of the cooler churches I've been in.

Another highlight is the climb up the tallest of The Two Towers: the degli Asinelli (the shorter being the Garisenda). From the top of the Asinelli (be sure to book a time the day before at least) you'll have an absolutely extraordinary view over all of Bologna and the surrounding countryside. If you're just a little bit competitive (like me), you will stand in line first (or second, behind a family with young kids...rats). It's an arduous climb, so if you race to the top as fast as you can, you might have as much as ten minutes to yourself up there before the rest of the pack arrives.

Asinelli on the right. Looking out from the top, the Garisenda tower looked pretty tiny.

Piazza Maggiore is in front of the large church, centre left, and San Luca can be seen on the first hill left from the middle.

San Luca on the left, and you can make out the entirety of the portico heading up there from the city.

A little bit more of Bologna.

It's a colourful place, that doctor's Bologna.

Detail of a ceiling in one of the porticoes.

Random dog enjoying some "me time" in the courtyard of Santa Maria dei Servi.

Not run-of-the-mill flooring under these porticoes.

Old Bologna on the right. The path leading to San Luca starts in the middle, goes along the south edge of the "suburbs," before heading up into the hills. Our hotel, Albergo Centrale, is the little red dot in the middle right, and straight up from that, the arrow points to the train station just outside of this image.

As evidenced from the picture above, Bologna is very walkable. It was a fifteen minute walk from the train station to the hotel. The walk up to San Luca was around an hour and a half, but could be done in under an hour.

Hotel website to book directly - https://www.albergocentralebologna.it/en/

We also did a food tour with Delicious Bologna. It's both a great way to see and learn about the city, while getting filled up on the region's food specialties. Get in touch with Mattia, he's a great guy.

Granada, Spain

 The city of Granada, Spain, is well known for one main reason: the Alhambra, Spain's most visited tourist sight. And while Granada is a pretty Spanish city, probably the only reason you'd come here and not visit the Alhambra is because you didn't book your tickets ahead of time, and it was fully booked during your stay. We booked our tickets almost three months in advance, and even then, there were already a number of tickets bought up. We had read about this on pretty much every site talking about Granada, and yet we still met people who were trying to get tickets upon arrival (lady in the ticket office who was incensed that she could not buy tickets for the following day; two young backpackers who were walking up the hill after noon while we were on our way down).

Granada is attractive enough that it wouldn't be a total disaster if you missed the Alhambra, but let me be clear: Do not miss the Alhambra.

After a GPS mixup and a strong helping hand from Miguel, our apartment owner, we rolled into town in the early afternoon and managed to find a parking spot a few minutes walk from our flat. It was tiny, but it was perfect.

Living/bedroom of our apartment, patio out the door to the left. Yes, that is the Alhambra in our living room window.

We did a nice walk around the city, getting our Alhambra tickets for the following morning, supper in the main square, and retired early so that we would be refreshed for our early morning arrival at the Alhambra (I really like saying that word).

There is a back way up to the hill to the site and while it's not a long walk, it's a continual uphill walk which is pretty tiring for some people, so don't do this if you're in a hurry and are budgeting your breaths.

But it's a glorious walk all the same, past old stone walls and through picturesque gates.

We arrived before the doors opened, so we had a chance to mill about and have a look over all of Granada, exploring the older parts of the fort.

What a glorious morning

Then our time came to visit the main parts of this old Moorish estate/castle/palace. I won't bore you with a description of everything, just know that this sort of detail was a Moorish specialty, and there are few areas that remain unadorned. It is beautiful, and it is spectacular. Book three months ahead of time, remember.

Maybe it wouldn't be quite so amazing on a dull, cloudy day, but we didn't have to worry about that.

Up the hill from the Alhambra, and included in your visit, is the Generalife, a sort of gardeny summer home for royalty that is more or less next door to your main palace. 

Gate at the Generalife

View from the top at the Generalife

We spent the afternoon and the following day getting to know our Granada better, visiting several shops with a dizzying array of merchandise, discovering lost plazas, busy streets, and quiet lanes, and walking centuries' old cobblestone streets on our way to dinner.

The red, black, and white poster is for a meeting about "employers who are wanting to make slaves of workers in the hospitality industry." I expect I would have enjoyed attending.

One of the most pleasant things to do on a sunny afternoon is visit Mirador San Nicolas, the square where everyone gathers to sit and relax, sell their wares, or just enjoy the view. It has a real backpacker vibe, with lots of characters, some who look like they were just travelling through and managed to stick around for a few years or decades. The view is worth an extended stay.

There are quite a few attractive spots like this around the Albacin, the older area of Granada that sits on the hill to the north of the Alhambra, and it's fun to wander and explore in an attempt to find them all.

View of the Alhambra (right) and the Generalife (far left) from Mirador San Nicolas

Broader view of the plaza that draws a crowd throughout the day.

And at the end of every day, we'd wander back to our apartment, sometimes even in the middle of the day, to sit on our patio, put our feet up and enjoy our own private view.

Sadly, this little gem of an apartment seems to no longer be available, but there are loads of great ones that are. Just remember that no matter where you decide to stay or when you decide to go, book your Alhambra tickets early.

UPDATE: This is the place!

We'd originally found it through VeoApartments but these are the only Granada apartments they have available now (Oct 2021). One is quite pricey, but the other two are much much cheaper and both very cool with great views of the Alhambra.

Prints of some of my Spain images can be purchased here.

Find more Spain here, and more of the world here.

Books about our travels can be found here.

Flux 2021

If you can make it out to the show at Cre8ery, I highly recommend it over viewing photographs of original art online. There is simply no comparison. But if you cannot, this is the next best thing.

First and foremost though, you must download Peter Gabriel's song Signal to Noise, and listen to it while you look at and read about the images below. Here's the link to the studio version on Youtube.

I've included some fundamental information about each piece, and explore a little bit about how they relate to the music, to today, to history, and whatever else I might think of that is relevant. The title of each of the twelve pieces is drawn from the lyrics of the song, following it from beginning to end. If you can't quite make out the words, they are included below. If you have an comments about the work or the feelings that arise from it, leave a comment below and we'll carry on the conversation.

Exhibition Statement included at the show -

Even though Peter Gabriel's song Signal to Noise came out in 2002, I heard it for the first time only a couple years ago.

My pieces in this exhibit draw their titles from the lyrics of the song, and follow it in the order they are numbered. This is simply my response to the music, but I encourage you to listen to it (on your device with headphones if you can) while you ponder the images. If you feel what I feel, perhaps you will see what I see.

During that first listen, I was immediately transported to my visit to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Images of hundreds of former prisoners hung in the museum, their faces revealing a range of emotions: fear and despair, but also courage and hope. I was confounded yet again by humanity's ability to be cruel and shortsighted, while lost in the faces of those who were just like me.

It's in this place where this group of work began, Gabriel's song providing the catalyst to bring it out of me.

Today we live in a world that is dominated by small but powerful groups, a world that is generally indifferent to our individual needs. Individual thought is diminished for the sake of a marketable contrivance, all the while "we" champion the individual whose action best underscores the superficiality of it all. Invariably, the powerful groups are elevated by the noise, noise that may have some grounding in reality but is largely fabricated. Truth begins to share common ground with fantasy, until it is necessarily pushed to the side.

And to the individual for whom the truth is a fundamental value, particularly in a world where one becomes separated from those who are like-minded, it can feel like the image of the ideal is being lost, overwhelmed by the noise of a seemingly ever-growing majority whose words and deeds no longer make sense.

It will require an internal strength, resilience and hope, to carry us through, to find a way, to make a start.

Reymond Pagé

The Way That Things Go
6 by 6"
Watercolour

What You Fight For
6 by 6"
Watercolour

That Fuzzy Picture
6 by 6"
Watercolour

The genesis of these three images lies in the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh. The power that emanated from these faces, or maybe the emotion that they evoked, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I couldn't imagine what these people faced. Having spent a lifetime building up their lives, in the blink of an eye it all came apart. What they had fought for, worked for, all leading to a point in time when there was nothing they could do against a tide of paranoia and cruelty, and everything came apart. A great deal of uncertainty in a very certain future.

The ink drawings over top of the portraits are culled from my photographs of the old Khmer Empire of Angkor that ruled the area a thousand years ago. A doorway, a Bayon face, a window, each with their own structure and symbology. While ancient Angkor was a magnificent city, purportedly the largest pre-industrial city in the world, I have little doubt that the crimes against 20th century Cambodians occurred in the pre-industrial era as well. But there is something about our existence that finds itself imbued in our history, and in our societies. As we walked around modern day Phnom Penh, it was as though I could feel the eyes of each of the victims of the Khmer Rouge purge. That despite the means of their deaths, they still held sway over the city. Despite the fact that the atrocities had happened barely more than a generation earlier, a sense of calm conviction seemed to penetrate the entire city.

In This Place
24 by 18"
Water soluble graphite

In This Place comes from a photograph that I took in Rabat, Morocco in 2018. Just steps from our comfortable hotel on Avenue Laalou, this building still stood, despite what seemed as obvious efforts not to do so. A face is superimposed over the plaster as a reminder of all those whose actions, for better or worse, make modern Morocco what it is today.

Can You Reassure Me
18 by 24"
Water soluble graphite

Can You Reassure Me is a water soluble graphite depiction of a tiny portion of a photo I took from a bus heading south out of Kolkata, India. There were no two windows alike on the entire face of this building, yet behind each one lived a family who could perhaps always escape to this humble home, to be comforted by a loved one, while the world outside raged.

World is Turning to Noise
18 by 24"
Water soluble graphite

I spoke at length with a friend after I finished this piece (a Winnipeg window in the Exchange) last year, about all the possible meanings of this piece, of each individual brick and the broken panes of glass. One of the big refrains to come out of this pandemic is, "We're all in this together." It seems to me that those are the words spoken by people who are doing just fine and will likely come out of these days better off than ever before. We are all bricks in this economy, clinging to the central core of a broken system. And broken systems/societies don't do a particularly good job of creating unbroken people or nurturing the broken ones. But we soldier on, doing our part to hold everything together while the world around us does its thing.

Surrounding Us
18 by 24"
Water soluble graphite

We spent some time on Chios Island a number of years ago, choosing Chios as it was quiet and uncrowded. The village of Volissos is small, half built up and half broken down. There is so much beauty in the unkempt, as it is a reflection of a life lived, all the experiences hammered into the surface but surely impacting the internal. It's surrounding us, and it's relentless.

Losing Sound and Sight
18 by 24"
Oil on board

Wrong From Right
20 by 15"
Mixed media

This is the part of the song that really hit me, where this idea really coalesced in my head. How our thoughts are powerful and how the people around us can help us to envision the world as a better place simply through their goodness. But when things are not right, when the world seems to be actively trying to make things worse and we are separated from that community of people who see a kinder and more thoughtful place, it can feel like something is drifting from the central values that got us this far. Two fine Winnipeg people, superimposed with two Winnipeg spaces.

All Things Beautiful and Bright
18 by 24"
Oil on board

While Rabat's glory days are definitely not behind her (it is the modern day capital of Morocco after all, and capital cities generally put on their best face), in some places it can certainly feel that way. Building facades that were at one time a sight to behold, now sit in half-ruin. The colour is still there, the memories for many likely remain, but sometimes the beautiful things are sinking, seemingly unopposed.

Something in My Heart
18 by 24"
Mixed media

Make a Start
15 by 20"
Water soluble graphite

Netflix, Amazon, computers, gaming, 24-hour news channels that focus on the immediate moment, but not so much the underlying realities. Nearly five billion mobile phone users on the planet, and almost four billion of those are smart phone users. Billions of game downloads. It's pretty easy to be unaware of all the chaos going on around us, as the modern world is fully equipped for us to do just that. We can try to buy our way above the chaos, live vicariously to try to escape it, or virtually in an attempt to ignore it. I'm of the belief, some days at least, that there are extraordinary things all around us. Little bursts of light that deliver a bit of hopefulness in the face of despair. Hope and imagination are a bit like sports, in that the more we practice them, the easier it becomes to execute the fundamentals. The more we look for hope, the more we will find it. And the more we imagine a better world, the better our world will become. I have always wondered what our world could look like if we spent more time on peace than on war. More time on equality than on self-aggrandizement. More time on celebrating our similarities than on insults over our differences. More time on listening than on crushing our enemies.

I see so much hope in that little sailboat.

“Turn up the signal, wipe out the noise.

Receive and transmit.”

As with all art, there are multiple ways to interpret these pieces. And frankly, if I were to start writing this up again next month (maybe even next week), I could quite easily take this somewhere else. But for the time being, this is what it is. It's about finding hope in trying times, maybe even elevating ourselves above the chaos without ignoring it. Or better yet, taking action.

Flux.

Lyrics to Signal to Noise

you know that way that things go

when what you fight for starts to fall

and in that fuzzy picture

the writing stands out on the wall

so clearly on the wall

send out the signals

deep and loud

and in this place

can you reassure me

with a touch a smile

while the cradle’s burning

all the while the world is turning to noise

oh the more that it’s surrounding us

the more that it destroys

turn up the signal

wipe out the noise

send out the signals

deep and loud

man i’m losing sound and sight

of all those who can tell me wrong from right

when all things beautiful and bright

sink in the night

yet there’s still something in my heart

that can find a way

to make a start

to turn on the signal

wipe out the noise

wipe out the noise

you know that’s it 

receive and transmit