Thursday, 20 March 2025
Waaaay before covid, we drifted away from going out and about as much…fewer restaurant visits, waaaay less book shopping…that kind of thing. Out and about today, that’s what I thought about when I saw tall buildings that mostly didn’t exist in those shop-and-spend days.
Friday, 14 March 2025
Okay, one more photo from yesterday’s tour…I took this to use here, truth be told, but I was distracted by minutia, and didn’t use it yesterday, so, Shazam, here it is today!
Thursday, 13 March 2025
I had the distinct good fortune to tour the May Patterson Goodrum House, by invitation of our lovely neighbor D. It was designed by Georgia’s own Philip Trammell Shutze (1890–1982), and built in 1930. The Watson-Brown Foundation, which owns the house, aims to decorate it to what the house was like in 1936 (as I understand it). The house is on West Paces Ferry just southeast of the Governor’s Mansion (which merely dates to 1969).
The details are what I remember most. This is the view south on the large, high-ceilinged screen porch at the east end of the house.
Chandelier detail, dining room.
Above door, main living room.
South façade of the garage, designed to evoke a church. It overlooks an interesting garden.
Tuesday, 25 February 2025
Unwatered fountains look like something’s missing (duh fits, but it’s more than duh). We’re on the edge of the first raft of spring pollen, so I suspect fountains will flow soon.
This somewhat pineapple-y fountain is in Greenville EssCee, and no, it doesn’t turn.
Tuesday, 4 February 2025
Today’s first stop was Numancia, one of the many locations that had pre-CeltIberian settlement, then CeltIberian, then a big rehab/redo by the Romans (who took it in 133 BC). As an additional treat, clouds brought moisture that the temperature converted into ice crystals.
Need I mention that we walked carefully?
Walls, hence occupation, seemingly go on forever.
A fancier dwelling….
On to Uxama. This tower dates to the al-Andalusian period, when Arabs controlled most of the peninsula, including this area. They built many watch-towers to consolidate and maintain their power. It worked for generations…until it didn’t. The castle to the right (red arrow) dates to the 10th–11th C, with later modifications. The river in between (blue arrow) is the Ucero.
Uxama is better known as a Roman city. If all this area had buildings, it was a very large city (I am not sure that it did). This excavated area is between the major hilltops; this view is to the southwest.
The domestic complex in this corner of this area includes and underground store-room (far right; bodega in Spanish).
We left the Roman world behind and checked out the Riaza valley near Montejo.
I’m guessing this is wheat. I’m guessing it’s doing pretty well. We’ve been seeing large piles of bales of wheat straw, just rotting…it appears they bale it with no market…is there a subsidy involved? Just trying to figure out the political economy….
See those lovely mountains below the narrow cloud layer? Tonight’s room is in a tiny village in their foothills.
We motored through this Medieval gate to check out central Ayllón.
Two civic-ceremonial buildings on the mostly Medieval main plaza…. I think the one on the left was a church, and perhaps still is, but the signs relate to non-religious usage.
A different view of this same end of the Plaza Major.
Construction detail…showing beams embedded in soft brick and adobe-type wall materials.
In contrast, this is the building material of the small village we’re staying in. I’m calling it slate.
It’s even visible on one wall of our lovely room.
Saturday, 1 February 2025
We left Bilbao in a light rain and went west, in and out of raininess.
We saw the ocean—quick peeks—at least a half-dozen times.
When we cut inland, we encountered clouds above and with us.
In Europe, we’ve found far more frequent tunnels than in the USofA. A tunnel we went through before we reached Bilbao was almost 3 km (1.82 mi)—I forgot to look it up until now.
The elevations eventually had snow…from a storm that came through about three days back. Luck is with us.
We took a wee side trip to see the source of the Ebro River, where there’s a lovely little park…and the river’s first dam.
This is a monument to the river. With a mallard.
Just a few miles from the source are the upper reaches of a major reservoir on the river.
Then, the topography became more rugged, and we drove a bit in dramatic gorges.
Even the side drainages are dramatic.
Oops, look what we climbed into.
Fortunately, the road was clear and the temps waaaay too high for there to be ice.
This is the only town we went through where the buildings had exposed beams. I suspect many of the buildings have beams—they’re just clad in mortar or whatever.
Finally, we descended and the landscape opened up, and the fields are greeeeeen!
Hotel window view….
Friday, 31 January 2025
Different day, different museum: Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao, established 1908. This is the “Old Building;” behind it, the new is being reworked—note crane. The collection focuses on Basque and Spanish works.
This is Ramiro Arrue’s (1892-1971) “Euskaldunak karta jokoan,” meaning Basques playing cards.
He did it about 1919. I was fascinated by the footwear, especially the boots on the left with exterior laces.
Aurelio Artete did this in 1930–35, and called it “Euskal arrantzaleak,” or Basque fishermen. Again: footwear…. I’m wondering if the short boots are of rubber? They do look globular. Also: bare feet.
We saw one Picasso on display: “Still life with glass/bowl of fruit,” dating to 1937 (don’t know the original language of the name). In English, it’s “still life,” but in Spanish it’s “naturaleza muerta,” or, literally, dead nature.
They had three Goyas on display, including the side of the shipping crate they came in from France…I didn’t get the full story. This was the middle painting of the three (yes, I cropped it), the esteemed Bernard Tavira, dated about 1787-88.
Here’s a detail of the Señora’s carnation and ruff.
A few smaller rooms displayed fascinating historical documents and the like that normally no members of the public get to see. These are a pair of pages from “Corpus Iuris Civillis;” it dates to before 1477, and is in Gothic script. This is a later copy of a compilation of Roman laws from AD 117–565; the compilation was ordered by Emperor Justinian I, who was emperor from AD 527 to 565. This copy was made for Pierre de Laval, who became archbishop of Reims in 1473, and died in 1493. Many modern legal systems relate back to these laws.
Here’s a small section of the official document of excommunication of Henry VIII of England by Pope Clement VII and the Holy Council of Cardinals. This is an authorized copy sent to the Spanish court, and dates to 1531.
And then we were outside enjoying the sun…we found groundskeepers at work—here the fountain cleaners.
Here’s Bilbao’s river, the Nerbioi (Basque), or Nervion (English). This view is toward the mouth. This area was once the port area. With larger ships, it’s moved to the bay at the mouth. Note also that Bilbao, the city, is along the river, and the higher elevations are forested.
The façade of this building stood out to us both. It appears to be a private business…. BTW, that’s a pedestrian bridge to the left.
And, our riverfront trajectory brought us back to…this sculpture/building by Frank Gehry (born Frank Owen Goldberg, in 1929).
I very much enjoyed seeing Anish Kapoor’s “Tall Tree & The Eye” (2009) without raindrops.
Here’s this combo moto and lift that I posted yesterday from the other side.
Guggenheim detail. I think this is employee parking on the “back” side.
And, for giggles, a totally different façade, in town, away from the former port area.
Thursday, 30 January 2025
When in Bilbao…and especially if it’s rainy…. This famous Frank Gehry-designed museum opened in October 1997, riverside where the port was, opening up this part of the city with a major international attraction. Alternatively, people come to see “Puppy” by Jeff Koons, a flowering-plant bedecked West Highland terrier behemoth.
We joined a HS group crowded under a meager overhang waiting for the museum to open. They were speaking French and English, perhaps from a posh school over in Bayonne…I didn’t ask.
It took just a moment to scan our phone-born tickets, and another moment for a brief uncurious security inspection of my purse, and in we were. Entry hall, empty and quiet, so different subsequently.
We went directly to the top/third floor, and our amazing first stop was to be closed in a room, just the two of us, with lights and reflections…guaranteed to make anyone smile. It’s called “Infinity Mirrored Room—A Wish for Human Happiness Calling from Beyond the Universe” (2020), by Yayoi Kusama. Her works are very diverse and include novels; she has done many Mirrored Rooms. The vibrancy of the space seems appropriate to someone who experienced hallucinations beginning at age 10.
The rooms and spaces elsewhere tend to be huge. Five pieces only are in this room, e.g., a Warhol multi-Marilyn to the right, and a Roy Lichtenstein on the far wall, with a Jeff Koons flower bouquet in the middle.
Making art with art…selfie of the two of us…and a different school group.
A whole wing held this Richard Serra eight-piece composition called “The Matter of Time” (1994–2005). My favorite section was the fifth one, called “Torqued Spiral (Right Left).”
The steel walls framed a passage that kept going and going. This was the view looking out from the dead end.
Much of the second floor was dedicated to the works of Hilma af Klint (1862–1944), a pioneer (almost everyone uses this word about her, so don’t call me a copycat) in abstract art. This is her “The Ten Largest” (1917), showing the four stages of human life: childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age/being elderly.
Her other pieces are smaller, sometimes much smaller. This is one of a series called “Tree of Knowledge” (1913–1915).
It was just too wet/windy to comfortably visit the many sculptures outdoors, so we glimpsed them through the windows.
Life outside the museum—endlessly eye-catching. Hopeful umbrella vendor and two museum patrons, already equipped.
Bridge view, by river.
Bridge view, with lift and moto.
Building detail—nuts and bolts of it, and the beams they join.
Wednesday, 29 January 2025
We stayed last night in the Baztán Valley, deep in the mountains. One of the routes of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela comes through here, so there were buildings here in the 10th C.
Later, residents historically went to the USA to work, returning with enough wealth that the buildings are relatively spiffy—and not just homes. This is the monastery that was across the street from the church in yesterday’s post—ornate and expensive, no?
One other cultural anthro detail about this valley and the general area, including into France, was that from at least the 13th C, a marginalized population lived in separate hamlets from the “regular” people, with stringent social restrictions imposed on them that varied by time and place. Interested? WikiP has entries in Eng, Fr, and Spn, under cagots for the first two and agotes in Spn.
We set off, happily on a faster road, with these limited access criteria. No knowledge of Basque needed to get the meaning.
I managed to get a shot of this building as we motored along, with no idea what it was. In general, we passed through areas with some abandoned, and many active factory zones, so I figured this was another. Turns out it had something to do with the electrical distribution system.
There was a ford here for cattle long ago, and a bridge by 1736. This is thought to be a 19th C re-build. Folklore has it this bridge was built by the Sorginak, Basque for witches, a term taken from that of the assistants of the Basque goddess Mari (she controls the weather and dispenses justice). The stories vary about how all this came about.
Here’s proof that we made it to the Atlantic (yucky picture over the guardrail, yet evidence). Today was windy, especially along the highway paralleling (but not adjacent to) the coast…we noticed wind socks at most gaps/bridges over rivers flowing north to the sea.
We scrapped a stop at a lighthouse: windy, and went on to another mountain point-of-interest. However, at elevation, it was blowing rain, so we didn’t walk around. I did see the door was open on this structure and thought: bathroom (rarely to be passed up).
I went in and discovered yes, toilets, but also it was a bunker for outdoor adventurers needing refuge from bad weather. The least noise echoes, but the bunker-like engineering seems safe.
We stopped in this mountain park, Urkiola, because I was interested in a land-counting/measuring system called by a specialist “a pre-decimal metric metrological system characterized by septenary units of measure as well as the material and immaterial instantiations of these units, including the way they were manipulated and integrated into social practice.” Septenary means seven is the key figure, especially simply seven, but also 49, etc.
The areas had an upright stone in the center, with a diameter measured around them; this system was in use into the 20th C. This satellite view figure shows four that academics have identified; I put stars where it looks to me like two more may be.
Leaving to descend back to the coastal highway, I was surprised to see Durango on the sign…Basque shepherds in Colorado, hence the name used there?—I hypothesize.
We had good views of this distinctive Rocky Mountain (not Colorado) on our descent. BTW, 30 km/h is 18.6 mph—slow is careful on tight hairpin turns.
Some of the highway was a toll road. Here’s a special elevated payment machine for semis (some from Eastern Europe). There’s a camera on the tall pole to the left.
For our three nights in Bilbao, we splurged on a wee apartment downtown. It’s fabulous to have the extra space—and a mini-kitchen!
We braved light rain to walk about the area. This is a theater—upstairs.
At street level, it’s this cavernous open space…well, the lower ceiling has thick pillars, each one different.
Evidence we’re in a city….
Another architecturally interesting building….
Proof we got some sunshine….
Night view from our abode….
