The One That Got Away

Chef Cristian by Gail Morrison

Last spring Via Vite opened their doors to School Amici students for our Mangiamo! series and Cristian Pietoso did a great private cooking demonstration.  Gail Morrison, the Pendleton artist best-known for her paintings of Italy as Gaia, took that class.  She asked Michele to forward copies of the photos he took during the event.   This is the one that inspired her and she intended to submit the finished painting  to Cincinnati Dreams Italy, opening next week.

Unfortunately for us, the painting sold before we even had a chance to hang it on the gallery walls.

Gail has several other pieces in the show, so I'm trying not to pout.  But this piece, with the steam rising out of the pots, captures Cristian's steady concentration so perfectly that the painting will be sorely missed even if nobody realizes that it's not there.

The Real Thing (October 1, 8, 15)

Every time I get on the plane for Italy, I'm a little nervous with all there is to figure out.  Should I change my money here or in the airport when I land?  ATM machine or one of the tellers in the booth behind the glass? Taxi or train into town?  The train is cheaper, but what if I get on the wrong one?  What if I have to ask somebody for help and I don't understand what they say?  Do you have to buy stamps at the post office and if you do, which line do you stand in?  And when I get there I hope it's not the really long one where everybody else seems to know each other already, like they've been standing there for days or entire generations, long enough to share a history that doesn't include me. 

When I travel, I'm always a little off balance, that uncomfortable, but exhilarating sensation of not knowing exactly where I'm going, when all the world is new and different for the two or three weeks of a vacation.  By the end, I'm tired, ready to come home where I can take life for granted and not have to think so much..

But what if you never go home?  America is a country of immigrants, the bravest of the brave who got up and left everything familiar for a possibility.  Surely they must get used to it after a while, reach the point where every day doesn't feel like the boat is still rocking under their feet.

My husband has been in this country since 1990 and Michele will never get used to it, not if he lives to be a hundred.  He can't remember what time Americans eat dinner, which is really annoying the 52nd time we are invited out and I have to explain.  Since he only watches Italian TV, references to Seinfeld or Friends go completely over his head.  When we attend the company picnic every year he always asks, "Are they sweet?" before he takes a spoon of baked beans because his people don't put sugar and pork in the same dish.  In order to master the concept of grass, he literally took notes and worked so hard at it he put the rest of the neighborhood to shame.  We don't know what we don't know until it's too late to go home again.

I'm not that brave, are you?

Something About That Italian Sun starts October 1 at the Taft Museum.  For 3 weekends in a row, from 2-4pm we will explore cultural differences from the safety of a class room. Real Italians will tell us about love the first week, how courtship works and marriage is different.  On the 8th of October, we look at travel  beyond the tourist attractions, up in the hills of Piemonte, side trips in the South around Pompeii, cycling adventures in the Lake Country, favorite spots shared by the people who grew up there.  Our last get together focuses on food, the philosophy of it and the ritual of a simple cup of coffee in daily life.  Each week we'll also sample different flavors of our favorite country: olive oil, cheeses, and artisan gelatos. Stay after school on the 8th and we'll throw in a free tarantella lesson.

Come find out what we Americans look like to the foreigner.  Come explore the mindset that is Italian.  Because the only way we will ever really understand who we are as Americans from Cincinnati, Ohio, east side or west, is when we travel. Life is infinite possibility, but unless we're brave enough to rock the boat, none of us are going anywhere.

For details and registration, click here.

Perche'? (Why?)

Mona Lisa by Leigh Cooney

Before I married an Italian I was married to a German speaker and almost immediately after I made the switch, I noticed that while lots of folks drive a Mercedes, nobody ever passionately longs for wurst and lederhosen.  Italy, on the other hand, immediately brings out the poets, and I have spent an entire marriage trying to figure out what it is that pulls our American hearts in spite of  long lines at the post office and sleazy politicians.

Occasional mental noodling is one thing, but  I'm sure if you'd ask Michele, this time he'd agree, I've taken my research way too far.

 Next month School Amici hosts Cincinnati Dreams Italy, a companion exhibit  to George Inness in Italy at the Taft Museum.  My friend, Tricia, is in charge of public relations and she asked if we could do a class.

Something About That Italian Sun
(a 3-part adventure in the beauty of Italy explained by real Italians)
October 1 (2pm)  Amore: Friends, Family and Courtship & olive oil tasting
October 8 (2pm)  Paese: Spots (most) Tourists Don't Discover & Italian cheeses
October 15 (2pm) Tavola: Food and Italian Culture & artisan gelatos
If you sign-up for the whole series ($90), it includes a one year membership to the Taft and all their fun events.

That was all they wanted.

Except then I got to thinking, "Mamma mia! When's School Amici going to throw a party and get everybody together around big long tables with red checkered table clothes, outside in the tent in the garden, like they do in the old country, with lots of crusty bread and  steamy dishes cooked just right?"  We could sing Neapolitan songs with Michele on guitar and Silvana's gorgeous voice, an accordion player strolling by every once in a while.  We could go upstairs when the museum is all spooky and quiet and take our time with Inness' dreamy landscapes.  We could talk about food all night with folks who know about it, like it's the most important thing in the world. (which it is)

October 20, 6pm, Per Sempre: The Dinner Party  
Members: $40; Folks Who Haven't Joined Yet: $55

That was really way more than the staff at the Taft ever expected.  "Kathy, you're out of control," one of them said and who could argue?

Sure, the landscapes are pretty, but they don't tell me everything I want to know.   Inness took his Grand Tour almost a hundred and fifty years ago, but we Americans still travel there today with the same hope that our journeys will change the way we see the world forever.   So I invited 35 of the most talented artists in Cincinnati to galleries scattered throughout historic buildings around Lytle Park that aren't normally open to the public.

Cincinnati Dreams Italy, October 8&9, 15&16, 22&23  11am-5pm  (gratis)
an extravaganza in paint, print, and sculpture, part of all purchases to benefit the Taft


"Basta!" I thought to myself.  That is more than enough.  And it was, until I realized that Cincinnati was one of the few cities without a bocce court in any of our parks.  So I ran around and got everybody all excited until finally our co-host, Western-Southern Financial Group, agreed to donate the money for materials and the Park Department (miracle of miracles) said, "Yes! You can have a bocce court"  Now everybody wants to play.


Lytle Park Bocce Tournament, all weekends
Teams of 2, $10 registration per participant.


BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Free Group Tarantella Lesson, Saturday October 8 at 4pm, led by Silvana and friends.  We're gonna dance like there's nobody lookin'!

An espresso cart, walking tours, vintage scooters.


Which will surely be enough, don't you think?  Whatever it is that I'm looking for just beyond words, I'll find it this time and I'll finally be able to explain everything Italian that makes no sense.  It'll be there in one of the oils or the curve of an elegant bronze.  Or if the artists don't get to that secret place, it has to be tucked under the trees, between groups of friends chatting on park benches while they watch the players roll the bocce down the court.  This time I'll finally figure it out, exactly what it is that we are missing in the here and now that we have always called home.

I better.

Because I'll never get Michele to do this twice.