Orvieto Duomo

Last Tuesday I happened to turn on PBS in the middle of Rick Steves' travel program about Italy. Tufa rock...Signorelli...stone laid out in stripes----Orvieto! Suddenly I was back in Orvieto, following our friend Kyra down dark, narrow streets. We turned a corner and there, at the end of the street, a sliver of the Duomo glowed. The light reflecting off of the facade, with its gilded, brightly colored mosaics, nearly blinded me. We stepped into the sunlight and gaped at the church. This remains one of my most vivid travel memories. It takes very little to call it forth. There I am, once more walking down a dim street, about to be struck in the heart by a magnificent work of art.

Coneflower and Bee

It is the height of summer. This is the time when coneflowers reign. Coarse, sturdy stems and unsubtle colors divulge their wild and weedy origins as inhabitants of meadows and roadsides. Decked out in sometimes-garish shades of magenta, the contrast between purply-pink petals and orange-yellow centers is intriguing. Like a pine cone or an uncurling fern, coneflower centers are examples of a Fibonacci Series. As a graph, it is a pleasingly balanced set of squares and rectangles. The connected lines form a spiral. Whether it is intuitively or through knowledge and a deliberate choice, artists, architects and designers rely on the Fibonacci Series. The fact that order equals beauty is fascinating and somehow comforting. However, I don’t think the bumblebee cares.

Cascade Fountain

A series of watery steps form a fountain in Cincinnati's Ault Park. Looking down at it from the pavilion steps, I followed the broken light cast here and there by the rippling water. Dedicated in 1930, the fountain heralds the Art Deco style that would take over the Midwest, culminating in silver-topped skyscrapers and train stations that look like radios. In this fountain, art nouveau's delicate whiplash curves have been smoothed out into sturdier shapes that refer more to compasses and wheels than to growing vines. I remembered how this fountain and the pavilion behind it sat crumbling for years. Now it is restored, with a beautiful garden spread out below it. Thank you, Cincinnati.

Unusual House

A surprise of a house confronted us as we rounded a bend. A triangular room of stained glass hangs out over the front, like the prow of a ship. Shingles rise and fall in waves, following the curves of the walls. Metal bands and circles of orange metal form a roller coaster of a stairway. Mosaics, created from smashed-up ceramics edge the house and decorate the chimney. I hadn't been in this Cincinnati neighborhood in a long time. Surrounded by neat little bungalows, this amazing house is an incongruity. I wonder what the neighbors think. I wonder who lives there. I wish I could drive by this house every day.

T Shirt Family

The Washington Nationals are not a very good baseball team. They are the newest team in the Major Leagues. We have learned not to expect them to win many games. We go to enjoy baseball in person: pitchers keeping an eye on the runner on first, batters warming up, swinging their bats in big circles, beer sellers running up and down the steps in a display of unrecognized aerobic athleticism. We have a new pitcher, just brought up after a short stint in the minor leagues. Almost overnight, Nats T shirts with Stephen Strasburg's name sprouted like dandelions in an untended lawn. I chuckled at this family, in their matching Strasbug shirts. It's a reminder that baseball thrives on hope.

Basic Black

Stopping along I-68, we noticed that everyone riding a motorcycle wanted to turn into the gas station. Correction: they wanted to turn into the Harley Davidson dealership behind the gas station. The chugging pump hoses and smell of gasoline were overpowered by the steady bass of rock music and the aroma of barbecue. A row of lovingly polished cycles lined the shady side of the building. Many were as shiny and brightly colored as the coating on an M & M. But there is something about a black Harley. Even with fringes, studs and extra bits of chrome, a black Harley says "I am loud and serious. Don’t you wish you were riding me? Now get out of my way." This is true, even if we know the Harley's owner is probably a podiatrist.

Five Buckets

For the second week, I have chosen a photo in which buckets are featured. Buckets are an important part of a surface designer's life. Last week, Sue Cavanaugh's shibori class used these buckets to soak their stitched and gathered fabrics in soda ash solution or to rinse out the dye. A sixth-floor conference center is not the easiest place to conduct a "wet class." It leads to unexpected opportunities for photos. I like the lines created by the duct tape on the plastic protecting the floor. There is something both arresting and mysterious about the buckets. Their careful, even spacing moves my eyes down the row. They sit on chairs like speakers waiting for their turn at the podium. If they each had a chance at the microphone, what do you think they would say?