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This is the blog of Steve Burkett of Italy, Our Italy

Securing Your Haven

[Note: This article has two parts: the usual transforming the snapshot part, and a part about this doors mysterious and flabbergasting security]

“Formidable is the word for this green door with its complex locking mechanism. Maybe this old timer was the home of someone with a lot to protect, like a Venetian jeweler.”

I have an affinity for old, Italian doors. That affinity is somewhere between I-think-they-are-swell and I-have-an-old-door-fetish.

I am captivated by their historical significance. Like, for the door below: who lived beyond that entrance? How many lifetimes were experienced here?

What was their profession? How large was the family? What was their fate? Did they help to shape the fate of Italy? Or were they maybe early-day couch potatoes just whiling away the day doing nothing?

Whatever happened behind those closed doors, it happened a long time ago, and over many, many years. 

And these particular doors? Formidable is the word for this green door with its complex locking mechanism. Maybe this old timer was the home of someone with a lot to protect, like a Venetian jeweler.

And regarding its level of security, I was flabbergasted! So don’t miss the ‘Extra-Added Bonus’ at the end of this article.

 

The Door Transformation

When I took the original snapshot to the left, I made a big mistake. That mistake was in my framing of the original shot and my unwittingly not accounting for a more robust aspect ratio for later printing. What I mean is that if I wanted an 8x10 print, and if I cropped down from the top to the spot I wanted so that I could eliminate uninteresting space above the door, I would have white or blank space to the left and right of the door.

To avoid this problem, I usually try to back away from the subject of my photo to capture more than I think I will need. Using a Nikon D800 with its 36mp sensor, gives me a lot of image area in which to crop to common printed photo sizes without losing resolution. 

What all of that gibberish boils down to is that I needed a bit more image to the left and right of the door to allow me to keep the composition I wanted while satisfactorily allowing me to print to, let’s say, an 8x10 photo. But as usual with Photoshop, where’s there’s a problem, there’s a solution.

That solution can be seen in this next photo, where I’ve added more image to each side. In the photo above, notice that there are not quite 3 long-carved-out-thingies to the right of the top of the door; where in the photo below, there are 4 ½ of these long-cared-out-thingies. [Please forgive me for using such technical photographer’s terms here] You can see a similar transformation to the left of the door. Now, with the extra added bit of photo to the left and right, if I crop down to the point that I want, I can have a pleasing composition.

Next I can work on aging the door a bit, primarily through color, texture and making it richer through darkening, as in this next photo. 

But we’re still not there.

I’m not sure exactly when mail slots in doors came about, but it was surely after the time period that I wanted to portray for this door. So I eliminated the modern mail slot. And note that in the version just above, I had already eliminated the round-key-hole-thingie in the center of the door (sorry about using those technical terms, again). 

As I found the door color and finish to be a bit bland, I transformed it a bit to brighten it up, as you can see in this final image.

“Pretty cool huh? But that’s not the half of it, folks!”

So, there you have it! One more door transformed to satisfy my door mania.

When I run out of doors to transform, I think another trip will be in order!

You can find this door and many more on my website in the Venice-Doors gallery.

Extra-Added Bonus

But, here is an extra-added bonus about this door and its locking mechanisms. And first, let me say that though I did eliminate some of the elements on the door as described above, I have added absolutely nothing to the image with Photoshop. What you see below is actually there.

 

When you look at the finished photo above, see that long squiggly bar going from the top of the right door to the mid-point of the left door? Well, that little orangie thing in this photo…

…has a key hole to release that bar so that it stops doing its security thing. Open that lock and you can then rotate that squiggly bar away to open the doors.

 

Then, just below the door pull on the left part of the door is a small key hole that takes a squarish key – as seen in this photo.

What’s that about?

 

 

 

 

 

 

And for even more mystery, there are two keyholes in the lower part of the right door – seen in this photo. Why are they way down at the bottom of the door, and why are there two of them?

Hmmm, the plot thickens.

 

Pretty cool huh? But that’s not the half of it, folks! 

 

 

In the finished door photo way up above, see that long bar that hangs down to the steps in the lower part of the right door?

When you swivel that bar up to the left to its horizontal position, and when you put a pad lock on it through the ring on the left door –seen here…

 

 

 

…that horizontal bar covers up the two keyholes you just saw so that a key can’t be inserted into either of them. Holy my golly, what is that all about?! This is like some dawn-of-man combination locking system.

I must say that this door, with its complicated locking mechanisms, really appeals to the engineer that still lurks somewhere inside of me. 

I hope you found this door interesting. Tell me what you think about this door using the comment box below.

 

Ciao for now,

Steve

 

 

 

Transforming the Bee Fountain

“I was intrigued by this little fountain because of its unique subject – that being an open seashell with three bees drinking from the water spouts of the fountain”

Today’s transformation article is a short one.

The subject is the Fontana della Api, or Bee Fountain. You can find this charming little fountain in Rome just off of Piazza Barberini on the Via Vittorio Veneto, a quiet, tree-lined Roman street. 

Here is my original snapshot.

 

[click an image for a larger view]

The original snapshot

This fountain was sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini in 1644. The inscription on the shell reads, "Urban VIII Pont. Max…built this little fountain to be of service to private citizens. In the year 1644, XXI of his pontificate."  The service it provided was to water horses.

And since, as I’m sure you are aware, 1644 is the year that Pope Urban VIII died, it is one of the last works he commissioned. And thus ends the lesson in history. And, you were aware of that fact, weren’t you?! Thought so.

Detail of one of the bees sipping water

I was intrigued by this little fountain because of its unique subject – that being an open seashell with three bees drinking from the water spouts of the fountain. Here you can see one of those bees sipping away at that fresh Apennine water. 

My transformation of this photo was pretty straightforward.

My first inclination was to crop the photo into a square image, as none of the area to the left and right seemed to be important to the image.

Cropped version of original snapshot

There were several elements I wanted to remove for my final image. Do you see the woman walking in the background to the left? Out of here. The sign in the doorway just to the right of the shell? Out of here. The bit of bright sky at the top left? Out of here. See the bit of drain screening in the water just below the bee on the left? Out of here.

For the final transformation, I darkened the background a good bit. And finally, I wanted to bring out the texture within the sculpture, as it looked rather flat to me. So that’s what I did.

I find this image, with the bees, the open shell, and the autumn leaves floating in the quiet water of the fountain, to be one of peace. 

You can find this photo on my website in the Rome gallery.

Ciao for now,

Stev

One Fine Day!

In my July 28th article, I shared with you a wonderful day of discovery in the Lake Como area. Today, I want to share with you another day that my wife and I will always cherish…it’s one of those Top-10 Days…maybe even a Top-5 Day! It just might be in the Top 1! 

“Gian-Carlo’s Blue Angel is a 38’ Itama, built in Italy – a gorgeous boat with a rear deck comprised of thick, fabric-covered pads for our lounging pleasure.”

The Day's Details

  • Where: The Amalfi Coast of Italy.

  • When: The time is early June.

  • Who: My wife, Ellen, and me.

  • What: An unforgettable day boating along the Amalfi Coast on the way to the Isle of Capri.

  • Why: Well, why not?! It was high on our Italy bucket list and here we were.

  • How: We asked our concierge at the beautiful Grand Hotel Convento di Amalfi to give us a hand in figuring out the best way for us to make a day trip to Capri. She came through.

The Day's Events

Our base of operations on the Amalfi Coast was the Grand Hotel Convento di Amalfi, sitting high above the town of Amalfi. This former convent has been converted to a gorgeous white-washed hotel that can be seen spread across the top left in this century-old photo.

[click on any image for a larger view]

Old photo of the town of Amalfi

Our concierge scheduled a pickup at the Amalfi’s marina at 9:00am, where we were met by, Gian-Carlo – the captain of the Blue Angel. 

Our Captain, Gian-Carlo of the Blue Angel

Gian-Carlo’s Blue Angel is a 38’ Itama, built in Italy – a gorgeous boat with a rear deck comprised of thick, fabric-covered pads for our lounging pleasure.

In the two following photos, you can see how our day started as we headed out of Amalfi Town. You can see the modern day Grand Hotel Convento di Amalfi in the left-center of the photo below.

(BTW, the building dead center in the photo above is Amalfi's cemetery/mausoleum)

Here is a typical view of the coastline with villa after villa going up the hillside. See the horizontal rows of vegetation?

Lemons. Lemons. Lemons. The whole of the Amalfi Coast is covered with lemons. And what does one do when given so many lemons? They make limoncello, of course. Amalfi is the center of the limoncello universe.

Our journey found us slowly traveling the coast with views such as those below. Stone roadways and buildings have been erected over hundreds of years, and seaside restaurants are in abundance.

A History Lesson

And there are dozens of stone towers (torre) like the one below all along the Amalfi Coast.

These towers were erected as an early warning system to alert the coastal towns of invading Muslim pirates, who captured and sold as slaves over 1,000,000 people, including many US merchants. The United States had a big part in defeating these marauders, as President Thomas Jefferson sent the newly formed US Navy, carrying the US Marines in their first battle, to defeat these pirates. We were successful in 1805 after the Second Barbary War. This is where the line in the Marine Hymn “…to the shores of Tripoli” originated. OK, that’s the end of today’s history lesson.

Getting to the Beach

Each of the hotels along the coast has access to the water’s edge – not necessarily to a beach, as they are few and far between. Here is a beauty-of-an access stairway. You really, really have to want to get to the water to challenge these steps.

Positano

Next up, we see the stylish town of Positano, as seen below.

By road, Positano is 9 miles west of Amalfi. As it takes about 40 minutes to drive from Amalfi to Positano, you can see that your average speed will be about 15mph. If you ever plan to drive the Amalfi coastline, keep this in mind. We have never been on a narrower road with more bends, blind curves, buses, autos, motorcycles, joggers and women with baby carriages.

If you stay in Positano, your hotel will more than likely be located somewhere on the hillside. Like a bit of exercise getting to town or the beach? You’ve got it!

And the beach sits right there with the town. Hope you’re not shy!

Now, we say goodbye to Positano, as it’s time to head to the Isle of Capri.

And along the way, Gian-Carlo continues to take care of our needs.

Isola di Capri

Capri is both the name of a town and the island upon which it sits. Capri (pronounced ‘cap-ri by the Italians, with emphasis on the first syllable) is an island located in the Tyrrhenian Sea off the Sorrentine Peninsula, on the south side of the Gulf of Naples in the Campania region of Italy -- got that? 

As we made our way to the Piccolo Marina (Small Marina) on the east side of the island (the Grande Marina is on the west side of the island), we passed by the rock formations named The Faraglioni, or The Stacks.

The natural opening in one of the outcroppings is called ‘The Tunnel of Love’. Couples sailing through that opening are promised blissful love for all time, or something of that nature, so I think my wife and I are pretty well set, now.

One of my clients who has the following photo in her office lyrically says that “it graphically portrays her fondest memory of the coastline of Capri -- with the colorful towering limestone cliffs meeting aqua waters”.  

As we motorboated along the coast of Capri, were able to stop and take a swim in the White... 

...and Green Grottos. Chilly, but super refreshing!

The Best Lunch Ever!

We’ve been sailing for about 3 hours, so it’s now time for lunch. Here is our lunch spot. The Torre Saracenas Restaurant is open for lunch from April to October, so we’re in luck. 

As we're arriving by a large boat, they sent a smaller skiff out to shuttle us to their dock.

As we look back, Gian-Carlo is preparing our boat for the afternoon return to Amalfi. Nice boat, huh?

At this restaurant, you get to pick out your lunch from these tanks.

Here is Ellen taking stock of the available wares, caught just that morning.

We started with a bit of vino bianco.

And some fried zucchini.

While we were enjoying the view from the seaside table…

…our lobster arrived.

And then there was a bit more vino bianco…

…until our fish was presented to us.

After being deboned…

…we dived into our scrumptious lunch.

Now, let’s finish that bottle of wine and head up to the town Capri.

A Short Visit to Capri Town

Our waiter called us a taxi and we were whisked away.

OK, so the town of Capri is pretty much like many other small Italian hill town, except that the ‘streets’ are really, really skinny, and they have to use these really, really skinny carts for deliveries.

We were able to find a couple of souvenirs as we shopped Capri style.  

As we waited for our tender to take us back out to our boat, I snapped this photo of the green waters of the harbor.

The End of One Fine Day

Now it is time to head back to Amalfi town to end our day on the water and the Isola di Capri.

So, how was our day? Does this seem to be something that you would like to do? Well, I can tell you that we sure enjoyed our day exploring the Amalfi Coast.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. So, I will try no further to express to you our feelings about this memorable day.

I will let the photo below be that expression.

 

Here are some links to help you plan your own fine day:

Have you been to the Amalfi Coast or to Capri? Leave a comment with your own experiences, below.

 

Ciao for now,

Steve

 

 

 

 

Transforming a Graffiti-Clad Door

Graffiti is pretty much a world-wide problem. I’ve seen it everywhere I’ve been. 

“Fool’s names like fool’s faces, always seen in public places”

In only one instance did I not find it objectionable, and that was along the parts of the ‘fallen’ Berlin Wall which had not actually fallen. Those who had to live behind that hideous façade had all the right in the world to express their displeasure with it, to decorate it as a way to rebuke it in its defeat.

 

The original graffiti'd school entrance - two photos stitched together in Photoshop

I was really put off by the graffiti on the very old entrance door in Rome, as seen in the photo to the right. What this doorway serves is the Veneto & Triste Elementary School.

I can’t imagine what draws one to ‘tag’ structures. Though some graffiti artists are really quite talented, it seems that other surfaces could be found where their work would be welcomed, and commissions sought for their talents.

Graffiti is Nothing New

My earliest remembrance of graffiti was on a vacation while we were returning to Texas from Disneyland when I was 10 years old.

While we were stopped at a road-side park (we now just call them rest areas) overlooking a large expanse of west Texas, scratched into the woodwork was someone’s name and address (the address part was pretty stupid, wasn’t it, when one is defacing public property).

My mother had purchased several postcards during our trip so she whipped one out, addressed it, put a stamp on it and mailed it later. On it she had written the following message (from a Burma Shave sign set, I believe): “Fool’s names like fool’s faces, always seen in public places”. And then, “Please do not write on our road-side parks”. See, I was listening to my mother after all! And that learning moment stuck with me.

Transforming the Roman Graffiti'd Door

My first impression was to pass bye the door that you see above, but then I thought, ‘Hey, why not document it as a kind of juxtaposition of the old and new?”. I really hate to put quote marks around that thought because I’m not entirely certain that those were my exact thoughts…but its close, OK?

By the way, that photo above is actually a combination of two photos, one of the lower part of the entrance and one of the upper part of the entrance...the two were stitched together in Photoshop.

To accentuate the timeworn doorway surround, I gave it a good bit of texture and then I darkened it a bit. 

Timeworn entrance to elementary school

At this point, I was just about through, but then I realized I had one more task.

The two don’t-do-it signs (‘no parking – allow free access’ and ‘no parking at night’) and the poster announcing that this is also a ‘primary school’ or kindergarten did not fit my nearly-ancient mindset for this door, so I got rid of them.

Then I noticed the plaque above the door with the historic ‘SPQR’ reference, which stands for Senatus PopulusQue Romanus, or ‘the Roman Senate and People’. No, this door isn’t that old…SPQR is used by the municipal government of Rome today to kind of say, “This is a municipal property”. Anyway, when I saw that plaque, I decided to accentuate it a bit by lightening it.

Final entrance with juxtaposition of old and new

So, there’s the final product. It’s not a photo that I would hang in my house, and it isn’t on my website, but I enjoyed working on it to transform it into the juxtaposition of old and new.

As always, feel free to leave a comment.

Ciao for now,

Steve​

Transforming the Pieta

Some of You Misunderstood!

Two weeks ago I wrote for you a widely popular posting titled 'Transforming the Copse'. Many of you emailed me to express your interest and bliss (well, maybe not bliss actually -- let's say pleasure) in seeing the multiple interpretations of that simple copse of trees.

“...two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands — all relegated to another sculptor!”

But, I must say that a few of you pointed out that you were stymied by my title, which some of you misread as 'Transforming the Corpse'.

But hey! You've given me an idea. Let's run with that misunderstood title for this weeks article!

Today I take that rather humorous misunderstanding as the subject of this week's article, which is indeed about transforming the corpse -- the most famous corpse of all: Corpus Christi. 

Michelangelo's Pieta' and a Humorous Anecdote

Have you been to St Peter's Basilica in Rome? If you have, you have undoubtedly seen the Pieta' sitting to the right as you enter. And because a deranged geologist took a rock pick to the sculpture in 1972, it is now protected by bulletproof glass, which makes it a bit challenging to get a good photograph of this marvelous work of art.  

Everyone knows that Michelangelo is a fabulous painter (the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, for example) and sculptor (the David statute and of course, the Pieta). And he typically did not have a huge ego problem -- for instance he never signed any of his sculptures...or did he?

Shortly after the installation of his Pieta, as he was admiring how it was being displayed, Michelangelo overheard someone remark that it was the work of another sculptor, Cristoforo Solari, rather than himself. Ouch -- two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands -- all relegated to another sculptor! 

Late that night, Michelangelo made a change to the Pieta by chiseling an inscription on the sash running across Mary's chest that said, "Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florentine, made this". He later regretted his prideful outburst and swore never to sign another of his works. 

Step 1: The Original Snapshot

The first photo below is my original snapshot. I had to wait for a moment when the crowds parted before taking this photo. Ooops, the security setting is now a bit obvious because of the window being reflected in the bullet-proof glass. 

Original, unaltered photo

Step 2: A Minor Bit of Adjustment

Standing in front of this historic art work, you are mesmerized by it's beauty and you don't really notice the color cast. But now I do. So, I did a bit of work to remove the yellow cast created by the tungsten light. Then, I was able to recover some of the detail lost in the reflection. A bit of cropping resulted in the photo below.

Color cast  and distractions removed, and a bit of cropping

Step 3: The Final Transformation

I found the marble stonework in the background to be too much competition for Michelangelo's masterpiece, so I deemphasized it by darkening the background.

Next, to emphasize the texture of the stone-cutting work of Michelangelo, I worked on what we call 'mid-tone contrast' in the photo-editing world. Usually, we talk of contrast in terms of the differences in the lightest and darkest parts of an image. But here, I wanted to emphasize the differences between lighter and darker elements of the photo in the stonework itself, which is in the mid-tones of the image (i.e. not the lightest or darkest parts). 

Finally, as it is that texture, and not the color, that is so important to the Pieta', I desaturated the photo just a tad to call your attention to that marvelous texture.

The resulting photo below is my interpretation of Michelangelo's work as I saw it right there with my own eyes -- with every fold and crevice created by his masterful hand vividly portrayed. And this is just the way I wanted you to see it, too. 

This example of the transformation of the world's most famous corpse, as well as the other transformations you can see on my website, is what fuels my passion in photography. It's wonderful out there in the world, and I strive to show it to you in a different way, through my own eyes. 

Have a comment you want to share about this transformation? Feel free to use the comment box, below. 

 

Ciao for now,

Steve 

 

 

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