the daily bailey alexander

As the Italian nurse said, "We have not have the best high-tech, but we have heart"

Must be #Italy

Muv's last sketch, drawn a few months before she left left us in 2008. A lifetime of great health but then leukemia came, and fast. I flew home, we spent her final two weeks together. She was ready to pay the bill, offering me lesson in death. After a life well spent.

She drew this on her 76th birthday, mailed it to two close friends who shared that day. And me, in Paris. It was clue, Muv could be covert.

The subject might be a Russian princess, perhaps, she loved to do her own interpretation of a fashion shot seen in Vogue, from some country but it's my mother's hair, it's her, her spirit stepping into heaven. She was deeply private about her faith, when we spent a month in Europe after her son died; Italy acted like a balm.

that moment

“It was a new frontier, and its land inspired daily exploration. In Piemonte the ground was so solid it triggered insect-like determination. My goals received enthusiastic attention, although I didn’t immerse myself into the local dialect. If my basic Italian needed attention, which it did, I opted to pour every ounce of energy into our land.

I grew my own vegetables and harvested enough for a family of twelve. I planted so many roses my life was spent on my knees weeding various gardens. After a few years I grew a bit weary and a bit bored with the vegetables, so I decided to replace them with three hundred saffron bulbs.

I assumed you could grow anything in Piemonte, what with its magical soil, but I knew nothing about saffron. I had the soil tested, but I didn’t know where to find the saffron. Everyone loves Sardinia, so I found a contact, waited, and the bulbs arrived.

To plant three hundred bulbs underneath the late summer sun was labor intensive, but once they were planted all I had to do was wait. And water. For such a small plant it was awfully exciting. I never thought they’d show up.

But they did..."

Life on an Italian street

Maybe the buds are coming out earlier on the tigli trees - cannot wait for the sun to warm up - everything

Gastone mid April in '22 Gigi, today

“Anna’s home includes a husband and a library, each created by her mother-in-law long ago. They are now part of Anna’s enchantments. Her library offers a treasure trove of found objects and, beyond her desk, a small window providing a view as far as the gaze would like to go.

Outside the front door wisteria winds its way all the way down the stairs. Inside, all four walls are lined with books and in between and beneath the window and in front of the low tables situated here and there sit icons and images from all over the world. Tibetan medallions. Katana swords. And some of the largest and most carefully positioned crystals my eyes have ever seen.

Anna isn’t just a hunter and gatherer; she is a sophisticate and learned soul. Her books are read and worn, and I suppose after becoming sufficiently advanced in the world’s religions she has realized that energy and spirits are key. Or ki, as they say in Japanese. Anna’s curious about everything and everyone gravitates toward her."

Anna Fila Robattino

Excerpt From

Personal Legends of Piemonte

“Anna’s walking tours are famous. Friends and students arrive from far and wide to take part in these two-hour adventures. They begin in spring and continue through late autumn. Some people carry notebooks and take copious notes, while others prefer a refresher course on what they were taught growing up.

It would appear many Piemontesi are aware of their land’s biodiversity. Trundling along my daily errands I see the locals on the side of the road, their knees deep in high grass, happily exploring and picking herbs and flowers while on a casual hike or when walking off lunch or dinner.

No matter our motives, we are a happy gang following Anna, exploring the forest with its pungent smells—rosemary in abundance, along with mint, strawberries, and cherries, and maybe a whiff of génépi floating down from above. Anna stops constantly. She prefers to inspect everything below lest she miss one of her precious superheroes. This gives us time to pick more specimens as she talks. We smell and listen, then carefully place our newfound herbs in brown paper bags like precious jewels.”

Want to know anything about herbs, just ask:

Anna Fila Robattino

Excerpt From

“I just let the interior of the city give me clues to a personality as I walked along her long, broad, inviting boulevards, cutting through vast parks and statues floating everywhere, like goddesses protecting their city, applying a sympathetic vibe.”

Excerpt From "A European Odyssey: How A Boxer’s Daughter Found Grace"

Statue of Eliška Krásnohorská a Czech feminist author. 1847-1926

Sculpture created by Karla Vobišová-Žáková:Czechia's first female professional sculptor in 1931.

foto taken 3.3.12

Oscar Wilde - devoted to beauty, famously ruined by his homosexuality, writing that extraordinary letter in prison - a meditation, re-imagining Christ as an artist to express his suffering in De Profundis

Sergei Diaghilev not only thrived despite, in the early 20th century, he leveraged it - introducing Russian and modern ballet to the west, the father of modern art - everyone followed him

#oscarwilde #diaghilev #art #nijinsky #picasso #cocteau #Dali

- - To me one of the things in history the most to be regretted is that the Christ's own renaissance which had produced the Cathedral of Chartres, the Arthurian cycle of legends, the life of St. Francis of Assisi, the art of Giotto, and Dante's Divine Comedy, was not allowed to develop on its own lines but was interrupted and spoiled by the dreary classical Renaissance that gave us Petrarch, and Raphael's frescoes, and Palladian architecture, and formal French tragedy, and St. Paul's Cathedral, and Pope's poetry, and and everything this is made from without and by dead rules....

Oscar....blissfully opinionated, gorgeous reference points from long ago, they still linger and live in our imagination

“I prepared for the Pirate Party based on nothing but hope. I bought several cases of Italian wine and Pilsner beer and made plenty of finger food and waited. I attended the conference but there was no way of knowing who might show up. No fewer than fifty guests stopped by our apartment on the last night of the conference representing well over a dozen countries.

The Pirate Party had a silly name but they were becoming the fastest growing political party in Europe. The German arm was growing more sophisticated by expanding their platform beyond its focus on copyright and internet freedoms. In Germany their manifesto now included childcare, wages, and other issues important to any society.

I tuned into my bohemian ideals and opened my joint to a bunch of strangers. It was my best fete ever. The party was mellifluous with every guest engaged with everyone else even if they wondered who the hell I was. Not that anyone cared because they were just happy to argue about everything in good spirit.

The German and Dutch journalists debated with the Pirate members, the English came across as slightly cynical and opportunistic, and when the Italian journalists arrived they asked to see the wine selection. It was comforting to know cultural realities are alive and well at Chez Bay. The party kept going and lasted until the early morning hours and it was quite possibly the highlight of my year."