The West is the best

20 02 2010

Photos I took out west this summer.

The Darby rodeo. Half the people there screamed at me for not fleeing, but rather taking this photo.

The bull veered off instead of impaling me.

A rodeo clown, photographed hipster style.

Most people don't know or care, but my left leg is fairly crippled. So one day I foolishly went hiking and couldn't go any further, so I hitch hiked back to the car. It was pretty cool though, because I hitch hiked on a boat. These are the Californians who picked me up.

The town of Bannack, Montana, suffered severe depopulation after the Gold Rush. It is now totally abandoned. I took this picture of an old truck there. It's not a postcard, I took it.

Although Bannack is totally abandoned an over 100 miles from the nearest town (with a population of less than 200), this masonic temple there is still used for certain ceremonies.

A picture from the road on the way to Bannack. It looke like this 360 degrees around us. The isolation is amazing.

Rows of abandoned houses in Bannack.





My interests going to college

20 02 2010

Right now I’m most interested in art history and Spanish. I have always been interested in Spanish because speaking two or more languages is one of my life goals. I can now speak Spanish fluently, but I want to keep on pursuing it so I can learn more about famous Spanish and Latin American writers and their works and reinforce my vocabulary and understanding of literary styles. In terms of occupations, teaching Spanish definitely interests me. I became interested in art history last year while I was living in Spain. I lived in Zaragoza, which is a short drive from the Pyrenees and the area famous in Spain for it’s romanesque churches, often tucked away in remote mountain passes. Our school took trips to old churches and monasteries every Wednesday, and within two of these trips I was already fascinated by what I saw. When I signed up for classes that year I asked to be placed in Contemporary Art History, not because it had previously interested me but more because I didn’t want to take Mediterranean Art History. As I saw more of the churches in the mountains, however, art history quickly became my favorite class, and it helped me become more comfortable writing in a second language. We only covered romanesque art for a short period of time, and soon made the jump to the paintings and sculptures of the early 19th century. With the energy that my interest in church art had given me, I immersed myself in the study of more contemporary works and came to appreciate them more than I ever imagined I would. Although I’m not in an art history class this year, I still actively purse the subject through reading and trips to the Art Institute of Chicago, which is particularly famous for it’s collection of impressionist paintings. I could see myself pursuing art history or archeology as an academic major.

Art History

Spanish Language





Meaningful books

20 02 2010

Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises proved to me that literature can speak to different people at different times in their lives. The book is about a young man working in Paris who decides to take a trip to Pamplona, Spain, for the San Fermines festival. The first time I ever read the book was the summer after my Sophomore year, and I have to admit that the first time around I was unimpressed. The book didn’t speak to me, and I couldn’t relate to any of the sentiments or experiences of the characters or understand why their group dynamic was so strained. At the end of that summer I left home for nine months to attend an american high school in Spain. About five months into the year, after having traveled extensively through the country with friends I had made there, I decided to read The Sun Also Rises once more. The second time I was amazed. Having lived experiences similar to those of the book’s personalities, I was able to relate to fictional characters in a way that I had never been able to before. It was the first time in my life that I read a book and could laugh out loud, as if to say “I remember that,” because Hemingway’s depiction of life on the road in Spain was so accurate that I often felt like he was describing my own journeys through the country. I got stirred up every time that a new Spanish city or area was mentioned, having traveled to most of them and knowing exactly what Hemingway was describing. Reading The Sun Also Rises gave me an entirely new perception of literature: I had originally seen literature as an art form that depicts worlds entirely separate from those of the reader, but after my second reading I realized that it is possible for the reader to feel completely immersed in the world painted by the writer. The Sun Also Rises made literature a much more personal art form for me.

The Sun Also Rises





My favorite things in Paris

20 02 2010

Here are my favorite things to see in Paris.

Walk around the Pere La Chaise burial ground. Many of the Western world's most famous artists are buried there.

Jim Morrison's grave, Pere La Chaise.

Visit the Louvre. The building's immense exterior is as impressive as the masterpieces inside.

Luxury hotels ruin the experience. Stay at the Three Ducks hostel.

See if you can dash across L’avenue des Champs-Élysées to get to L’arc de triomphe instead of using the tunnel and paying. You probably can't.

Le musée d’Orsay is my favorite museum.

Le musée d’Orsay

Meander





My prized essay

20 02 2010

GOYA Y EL MUNDO MODERNO

Francisco de Goya es probablamente el nombre más conocido en el mundo del arte después de Picasso. Goya, un pintor y grabador español que vivió entre los años 1746 y 1828, pintó algunas de las obras más famosas de la historia de la pintura española y también se convirtió en la voz de la gente durante la sangrienta guerra de la Independencia. Al principo de su carrera, él pintó como artista de la corte del rey Carlos IV. De esta época viene una de sus obras maestras: “La familia de Carlos IV”. En 1792 se puso enfermo, y hasta su muerte en 1828 pintó obras más y más oscuras, obras que ilustran los horrores de la guerra contra Francia pero también sus propios sentimientos y su visión del mundo, especialmente de los políticos. Con temas controvertidos y un estilo que es muy fácil de reconocer, él se hizo fuente de inspiración para los artistas del futuro. En la exposición “Goya y el mundo moderno”, se puede ver claramente cómo él influyó en el mundo del arte moderno, y cómo su estilo sobrevivió tras su muerte.

La primera obra que me llamó la atención allí fue “Máscaras Bailando del Brazo”, pintádad por José Guitérrez Solana en el año 1938, 110 años después de la muerte de Goya. La pintura está realizada en la forma de óleo sobre lienzo, y muestra dos figuras bailando. Las figuras están vestidas con delantales, y la de la izquierda tiene una escoba y la otra un saco que parecido al que se utiliza para contener vino. Las figuras también llevan zapatillas, y por eso me parecen como gente que está limpiando una casa pero a la vez no está haciendo su trabajo. La figura de la izquierda tiene la cabeza de un burro, y la de la derecha tiene la cara ridicula, con una nariz muy alargada y los dientes muy grandes, como los de un caballo. Es en las caras de las figuras en que podemos ver más fuerte la inspiración de Goya, que muchas veces mezcló partes de animales con un cuerpo humano o un animal haciendo algo humano para mostrar la ignorancia o la bajeza de una persona. El ejemplo más famoso de esto que Goya hizo es un aguafuerte do los caprichos que se llama “Hasta su abuelo”, que ilustra un burro escribiendo un libro de pinturas de otros burros. La pincelada y los colores del cuadro de José Gutiérrez Solana son muy distintos del estilo de Goya, pero en el tema y la vía utilizada para comunicar su sentimiento, la influencia de Goya brilla claramente. El uso de la cabeza de un burro y la cara tan ridícula de la figura de la izquierda muestra un sarcasmo profundo que Solana sostuvo para los sujetos pintados, y el expresó este sarcasmo de la misma manera que Goya lo hizo.

"Las máscaras bailando del brazo"

Personalmente, mi obra favorita en la exposición es “Satan Sement L’ivraie”, hecha por Félicien Joseph Victor Rops, quien vivía entre 1833 y1898. Es una obra grabada de la misma manera que los caprichos, y esto da la primera impresión de una influencia de Goya. Muestra una figura muy alta, oscura, y delgada caminando sobre una ciudad por la noche (supongo que es París, porque veo Notre Dame), y la figura está lanzando mujeres al suelo, como un sembrador sembrando su tierra. Por la oscuridad de la grabación, parece uno de los disparates de Goya, especialmente “Modo de volar”. También parece uno de los disparates grotescos en que nos transmite una sensación de miedo, un miedo de las figuras que van a llegar a la tierra y traer nuestra perdición. Rops vivió una vida muy corrupta en París con muchas mujeres, y él está expresando como siente sobre esto en este cuadro, como Goya hizo con los Cuadros Negros para expresar su propia angustia. Como las grabaciones de Goya, “Satan Sement L’ivraie” también claramente tiene influencia de la estampación japonesa. La pincelada rápida y la distorsión de la ciudad oscura añade más a las semejanzas de esta obra y un grabado de Goya. La protagonista, una figura imensa y horrible, tiene mucho en común con “Saturno devorando a uno de sus hijos” o  “El coloso”. Para mí, esta obra de Rops es como un “cuadro negro” de Goya, pero hecho con el estilo de los disparates.

Las primeras dos obras de las que he hablado parecen disparates de Goya, pero ahora quiero hablar de una obra hecha de óleo sobre hojalata en color. Es “Aquelarre”, pintada por Eugenio Lucas Velázques en el año 1885. El estilo utilizado en este cuadro es casi el mismo que el de Goya, pero las caras están hechas de una manera distinta. La luz irreal que ilumina las dos figuras en el centro del cuadro es muy parecida a la luz en “Los fusilamientos del 3 de mayo”. En este cuadro de Goya, el hombre con la camisa blanca está iluminado de la misma manera que la figura en “Aquelarre”. Su ropa parece coger y sostener la luz, y brilla con mucho poder. La velocidad del movimiento en los dos cuadros es muy parecida también. Los dos son momentos muy cortos y de mucha fugacidad capturados por el pintor. La pincelada en “Aquarelle” también claramente tiene la influencia de Goya en que ella es muy vigorosa y  hecha muy rápidamente. Las líneas no son muy definidas, y nos da la sensación que todo está moviéndose tan rápido que la vista está un poco nublada.

La última obra es “La muerte persiguiendo al rebaño humano”, hecha por James Ensor. Ilustra una escena de una ciudad atacada por las fuerzas de diablo. La gente está corriendo para escapar de los demonios, y hay incendios devorando las casas. En las caras la gente lleva expresiones de un miedo puro, tan puro que es más una locura que nada. Es el fin para ellos, todos van a sufrir a manos del diablo. Es una escena poderosa y terrible, de sufrimiento, dolor, y miedo profundo. En esto parece uno de los disparates de violencia hechos por Goya, no solo en su tema sino también en la pincelada y la gran cantidad de movimiento que hay. La escena es como una visión de un sueño, como el “Disparate ridículo” o “Triste presentimiento de lo que ha de ocurrir”. Aquí, como Goya, Ensor pone una de sus pesadillas en el cuadro. La pincelada es rápida pero detallada, y hay mucha atención a los detalles en las caras de todas las personas en el cuadro. Goya tenía una habilidad para poner expresión en las caras (el hombre de “Los fusilamientos del 3 de mayo”, por ejemplo), y Ensor sigue este ejemplo en este cuadro.

"La muerte persiguiendo al rebaño humano"

Después de ver la exposición, no se puede decir que Goya no tenga una importancia grandisima en la influencia de otros artistas del modernismo. En las obras de las que he hablado se pueden ver claramente adaptaciones de los temas ilustrados por Goya, y también influencias fuertes de Goya en la pincelada de artistas como Ensor o Rops. Él hizo una revolución en el mundo del arte, y se puede ver claramente que el estilo de Goya no murió con él, y que aún hoy está dando inspiración a los artistas del mundo.

– I wrote this essay for my Art History class when I was studying in Spain.





Family history

20 02 2010

Dr Louis Kaelin, my great grandfather on my mother’s side of my family, was born on March 14th, 1857, in Euthal, Switzerland. Euthal is part of a small city named Einsiedeln, which is located just south of the southern part of Lake Zurich. Einsiedeln was then and still is now a small city– the current population hovers at around 14,000, but it would have been closer to around 8,000 at the time of my great grandfather’s birth. He was very well educated growing up; he started his education at the Einsiedeln Gymnasium and Lyceum, and as an adult studied medicine in Shassburg, Berlin, and Vienna. In Switzerland, he worked as a physician. He would continue with this occupation once he moved to the United States. A testimony from his professor at the University of Berlin, dated 1884 (one year before he moved to the United States), states that he “delivered by his own help five women in the hospital clinic and 56 women in the City of Berlin” in the winter of 1883 to 1884.

My great grandfather’s boat to the states, the Andreas Zwilchenbart, left from the port of Havre on April 4th, 1885. He was 27 when he moved out of his native Switzerland. His motive for doing so is one of the more mysterious aspects of his history. I have been able to find a good deal of specific information on him, even a copy of his ticket for the Andreas Zwilchenbart, but nothing about why he chose to leave Switzerland. I do know, however, that 1880-1890 was a huge decade for Swiss migration to the United States. During this ten year period, 82,000 Swiss left their homeland (83% going to the US), the same amount as in the past 70 years combined. This period was also a time of industrialization, which can be correlated with a massive growth in population in Switzerland.  Famine resulted from this surge in population, and was a key factor in the 1880’s waves of immigration to America.  Nonetheless, it remains unclear which of these factors drove my great grandfather to move here.

Many families tell the  story of their great grandfather arriving here with 2 cents in his pocket and struggling to survive. This was not the case for Louis Kaelin. Like my great grandfather, the majority of Swiss immigrants came to the United States with just enough money to start out on their good foot and quickly acquire property and find work. He came here already well trained medically, and had no trouble finding work as a physician in Louisville, which at the time had large Swiss and German populations. He became “widely known with a large practice”,and it is said that he was the first doctor to cure a case of Lock Jaw, otherwise known as Tetanus.

Humboldt Universität zu Berlin

My great grandfather’s medical training made the move to the US easier for him, but his nationality was also a key factor in his arrival here. At the time, Americans were largely skeptical of immigrants from Southern Europe, Jews, and Slavic peoples. In 1882 the United States even went so far as to enact the Chinese Exclusion Act. For the most part, Swiss immigrants were still welcome here and generally not subject to the mistreatment suffered by other immigrant groups. There is no doubt that my grandfather worked hard when he arrived here, but unlike the classic immigrant story he did not arrive here with nothing. Like my great grandfather, the majority of Swiss immigrants came to the United States with just enough money to start out on their good foot and quickly acquire property and find work.

Einsiedeln, Switzerland

Although I can’t find any testimonies from my great grandfather himself, I do suspect that he was satisfied with the way things turned out for him in the United States. He became a well respected member of the medical community in Kentucky and found a good deal of prosperity in the United States. He died of Bronchiectasis on December 29th, 1919, leaving three children behind. His wife, Mary Elisabeth Striegel Kaelin, died in 1911.





Flamenco guitar

20 02 2010

“Hay que dejar las uñas crecer…” my guitar teacher told me. I had to let my finger nails grow out long in order to get the right flamenco sound. I’d only been in Spain for a few weeks, but I was already trying to pick up flamenco guitar. It was September and I was going to be there until May, studying in the northern city of Zaragoza with about 60 other Americans through a program called School Year Abroad, or more fondly SYA. Playing guitar was one of the aspects of my year in Spain I’d looked forward to the most the summer before I’d left. I spent that summer crestfallen, shy, and bed ridden with a crippling cross country injury that resulted in two surgeries. There was no way that I could really play without growing abnormally long fingernails, which was the topic of much humorous discussion throughout the year as people came to realize why I kept my nails so long. I wasn’t completely crazy– I was just trying to fully immerse myself in Spanish culture and pursue an old dream.

After a few months of playing the guitar, I decided that it would be appropriate to buy an authentic Spanish guitar– one made in a shop saturated with the warm smell of pine and cyprus and assembled by the gnarled hands of an Andalusian craftsman rather than motor operated stainless steel claws. I decided that I would pick up a real Spanish guitar in Andalusia over spring break when my parents came to visit. It was in Cordoba where I found my guitar in a little pine-smelling workshop; it was in the old part of town across the street from the crumbling ruins of an old Roman temple. We stumbled upon the guitar shop by complete chance and ambled in to meet Jose Rodriguez, a veteran guitar craftsman. I asked about a real handmade guitar. I was interested in one made completely from scratch with wood taken from old furniture in an Andalusian farmhouse still musty with memories of an old civil war; a house that’s surely bullet-riddled and standing high up on a lonesome plain near some field where a young international brigade soldier died in a heroic and hopeless charge– just like Hemingway would have pictured. It turned out that getting a real handmade guitar was a hope more romantic than realistic. The sound was rich and beautiful and thoroughly Spanish, but the 9,000 Euro price tag was far less attractive. A handmade guitar was out of the question, and I had to choose something else. I still walked out of the workshop thoroughly pleased, carrying a little cyprus guitar made in a family run factory in Catalonia.

Interior, La Mezquita de Córdoba. One of the last great mosques in the Western world.

Like always, there was a talent show at the end of the year. I was expected to showcase what I’d learned just like anyone else who had picked up an artistic and/or cultural activity during the year. I trembled at the thought of performing, but I still prepared a repertoire of traditional flamenco songs. The problem with performing flamenco guitar is that dexterity is everything, and it also just so happens to be the first thing that nervousness kills. I wish I could say that my first performance went well, but I considered it a disaster. My hands were shaking too badly to do anything convincing, and my fingers where too sweaty to stay in one place for any period of time. I stepped down from the stage dejected, and although everyone seemed sincere congratulating me afterwards I still felt that I’d played pretty poorly. Although the set hadn’t gone too well in my opinion, everyone else seemed to have enjoyed it, and it opened my eyes to a truth that shined through and blasted away my shyness. I realized that the only way for me to ever improve was to put myself on the spot and learn to play despite nerves. I’ve been learning to put myself on the spot ever since, not only with the guitar but in every walk of life. That’s the only way to live; to leave the comfort zone, experience anxiety in the spotlight, and aggressively pursue any opportunity to learn through experience. I still play flamenco and love it for what it is. However, I’ll never forget what playing classical guitar did for me; it helped me come out of my shell and recognize the importance of aggressively pursuing experiences that will leave me with a greater understanding of the world around me and how to handle the problems that pop up in life. Nervousness doesn’t bother me so much anymore, and I would never have been liberated from it if I hadn’t had that one botched performance in front of 60 people in Zaragoza, Spain.

The Alhambra, Granada. The Alhambra has served as the inspiration for many famous flamenco songs.






Interests after a year abroad

20 02 2010

Zaragoza is a relatively small city of about 700,000 people, located in northern Spain in the desert that lies before the Pyrenees and the French border. I spent a year there, learning the language and connecting with the land and people. I was a high school junior, and I was spending my year with a program called “School Year Abroad”. Classes there were thrilling. They were taught in Spanish and we learned everything we needed to know about the colloquialisms of the language and the customs of the land we were living in. We learned the history, the mannerisms, the sense of humor; every facet of society.  But there was only so much that we could see in the cities. To further our understanding of spanish culture beyond urban spaces, we ventured into the Pyrenees every Wednesday. We would enter the wilderness where there were no beaches or Gaudí buildings or flamenco-playing gypsies wailing out their sorrows. The Pyrenees were like nothing I had ever seen before. Up on the border there was only the cold and the medieval footprints left by ancient priests and friars. In the mountains the past was still alive, and no one had stepped all over it or put up neon signs. The country is still raw and real, and the people are there because they need to be: to tend flocks or work the land. Hidden in that little corner of Europe, they’ve managed to keep their traditions and cultures, and no oil barons or cars salesmen have set up shop in their fields.  The Pyrenees were immense and beautiful and sad and lonely, and they brought up everything that’s really Spanish but that most people never think of when they hear the word “España.”

My friends from my Art History class. San Sebastian, Spain.

We took trips to the mountains every Wednesday to see the monasteries and cathedrals from the Middle Ages, most of which are still intact. The majority of what we saw was Romanesque. The lopsided windows of all the old chapels and hermitas peered down at us and asked us what were doing up there in the mountains. The places we went were off the beaten path, and the stone buildings peered down at us from lopsided windows, not understanding what 60 American high-schoolers were doing in their territory, in the land where they lived for 800 years and thought forgotten. The artwork chiseled into the pillars and worked around the doors was equally imposing. Images of the Apocalypse hung over us as we entered buildings, and huge frescos of Jesus with his right hand raised stared down at us from the ceilings of the ancient chapels, the Pantocratór looking down upon the earth in his final judgement. The stonework was stoic and immense, the figures simple in their features but enormously complex in their mystery. Romanesque art is an art of dark and incomprehensible beauty, full of images sprung from the imaginations of artists whose names won’t ever be known. Romanesque art is the art of mystery, the art of old abandoned towns in cold mountains and along frozen streams and rivers. The second I went north and saw the first few medieval towns, I was hooked. Their beauty caught my imagination and has held it ever since. Who lived here? What were their lives like under the eyes of these buildings and the massive stone idols carved into their walls? Why did they choose to settle here and what kind of hardships did they face? A lot of these were questions that I knew couldn’t be answered, and that was what made me so interested in pursuing them. I became captivated by what we were learning in our art history class, and I threw myself at the subject- which was taught in a language that I hardly spoke for the first quarter of the year- with an energy and enthusiasm that I never thought I’d possessed. Those day trips up north were the most interesting and stimulating little jaunts I ever took, and on top of that they were fun. Not only was there all of the wonder I’ve mentioned above, but there was also a two hour bus ride with my best friends in the world and coffee in wind battered little towns at the bases of the mountains. What more could one ask for from a field trip?

The entrance to the world famous monastery in Leyre, Navarra.





Before I die…

19 02 2010

A list of things I want to do in my life:

1. Speak 4 Languages fluently

2. Live abroad for five years

3. Live out west

4. Live in a ski town

5. Hike the Camino de Santiago

6. HIke through the Pacific Northwest

7. Be able to run again

8. Do a triathlon

9. Live in Zurich

10. Work with the Peace Corps





Why?

5 02 2010