Rococo

Rococo is a term that shows up often in the NYTimes Spelling Bee game, which I play every single day as soon as it's posted online (I am always chasing Queen Bee).  I had a vague notion of fancy, over-the-top ornate design, but today I saw the epitome of rococo.  The Sao Francisco church, also known as "the gold church," dates back to the 1200s and bears a resemblance to the Incredible Hulk on the outside. It's a beast (a gray, dirty one, not green, but you get the idea).  Inside, however, the remodeling of the chapels anywhere from the 1400s to the 1700s is pure rococo -- ornate, gilded, carved wood everywhere.  The artistry of the carving is mind-boggling.

The chapels all tell different stories of saints and their virtues or (below, the Holy Martyrs of Morocco) their gruesome story.  There are layers upon layers of stories and since the church is no longer open for religious worship (it's been a National Monument since 1910), you can sit and stare and let your eyes adjust to the low light to appreciate what you are seeing.  I did, after yesterday's study of crucifixion art, look to see whether faces were looking up, looking down, expressing serenity or conveying suffering.  I can tell you those I saw today do all of those things and more.

Attached to Sao Francisco is the Church of the Third Order, which was built in 1795 and has a white-painted interior and an airy feel.   The painting at the altar underwent restoration and conservation in 2017 and there's a short video on a big tv screen showing the process of cleaning, re-lining, repairing, repainting and rehanging the enormous canvas.  I really enjoyed seeing that & I watched it twice.

As you go through the museum, there are signs of what's to come...  like this sculpture seen through the window.

Under the museum, there's a catacomb cemetery, which was in use from 1746 to 1866.   If you didn't know better, you'd think those "doors" in the floor were just decoration (they're tombs) in the clean and open space lined with vaults on the walls.  There's a small glass-fitted cutout in the floor, maybe 20" x 20," through which you can see the bones piled underneath the structure.  That's when you know it's time to get moving on.

The #1 Infante Tram starts right next to the church and runs along the Douro River all the way to Foz, the seaside town where the river meets the Atlantic.  I hadn't taken a tram in Lisbon, and the trams here are similarly historic and wonderful so it was time.  The tram cars were all built in the early 1900s and although they've been restored, they retain their wood interior details, leather straps, electric lever controls and exterior wires that have to be switched from front to back, by hand, to reverse the tram for a return trip. It's a creaky but fun way to get out to the ocean.  It was a rainy day today so I did walk around the town of Foz a little bit, but didn't get a full appreciation for the somewhat whimsical architecture and the ocean-scape.

When I got back, I had port and cheese sitting out on the waterfront back near my apartment, lovely even though it was a bit damp and just a bit chilly.  

I came back this afternoon to work on a painting of a seagull on my balcony.  I did not get a lot of cooperation from the seagulls, who would either perch in the wrong pose or in the wrong place.  It was an ill-advised choice of mine to want to paint them with wings out, as that's a pre-flight or landing moment.  The rest of the time, the gulls have their wings folded up while they stare at me through the window.  

work in progress

I am out of yupo paper, so I primed watercolor block paper to try to get the paint to slide more easily, the way I like it.  Somewhat successful.  I realized that the gulls have either yellow beaks or black beaks and I slapped this paint down when a black-beaked gull flew in.  I may like the yellow beaks better, although the misty gray look of the background may work better with the black beak.  Something to think about.