Archived entries for Milan
Fragments of The Clash
Still a member of the opposition. The door of our neighborhood squat. Milan, early December.
Berlin comparisons are warranted. Visually, the district is on fire. San Lorenzo, Rome, 12/28.
On the Border
Local curio shop trafficking in kitsch covering everything from Italian colonialism to boys toys and illegal immigration. Milan, 12/09.
Turkish Christmas
In the US, Jews are known to go out for Chinese food on Christmas day. In Milan, I’m not so sure. The only Jews we know are Israelis, who are more likely to go out for Italian food, irrespective of the actual occasion. This evening we decided to get doner kebab piadinas, with several pieces of baklava, and a free side of fries thrown in for good measure.
Keywords
Searching for an Edward Hopper exhibit on Sunday, we happened upon a stage being prepared for Silvio Berlusconi. Several hours later, the Prime Minister was assaulted within two or three meters of this location.
Watching the news over dinner, the proximity of the event felt especially unnerving. Relatively private, without many local acquaintances, it was a visceral reminder of where we are, and how deeply we’ve become tied to it.
Italy for Jews
The death of Claude Lévi-Strauss last month came as a shock. I thought he’d live forever. I was equally surprised by the ambivalence with which his passing was observed.
So much so, that, seeing this display of his works last night, in the brightly lit basement of our local Feltrinelli store, I felt strangely relieved to be away from America.
“There’s no ambiguity here,” I thought to myself, as I repeatedly snapped pictures of this display, hoping to get the perfect shot.
Frozen Pope
The last time I flew back to the US, I had the good fortune of ending up on a flight with the most remarkable video offerings I’d ever seen. News, (France 24), art house films, European sitcoms, the works. For once, I enjoyed having to sit still for twelve hours.
This time I had the exact opposite experience. Turning on the television following takeoff, this image, of the late Pope John Paul II, appeared. When I tried to change the channel, the screen froze. When I tried to turn off the TV, the display refused to darken.
For the next nine hours, every time I looked up from the book I was reading, this is the image I saw. All the way from Milan to New York.
Higher Education
Locals observe the first anniversary of the credit crisis. Via Beroldo, late September.
At a Theatre Near Us
“I don’t understand what interests you so much about the army,” Amir said, sounding somewhat exasperated. “My father’s stories, about being sent into Lebanon to hunt Fedayeen, would scare you to death. Even he gets frightened when he retells them.”
That conversation took place in the spring of 1976, on the balcony of Amir’s mother’s apartment, in Ramat Gan. We were both nine years old at the time. Seeing this advertisement, for the Venice Film Festival winner, brought his concerned words to mind.