Madcap maneuvers

 

What a hero!  Four days after mid-month's record-breaking snowfall, here's my botanical hero and birthday pal Linnaeus (same date, different year), toughing it out as he gamely wears a Canadian toque. (Pronounced "toook" – yes, three e's).

 

In once balmy Vancouver, it was like a science fiction novel —not just the overnight snowfall, but the three days afterwards when snow remained in our neighbourhood.

 

All I could think was THIS IS SURREAL !  -- and that led to thoughts of my favourite Surrealist artist, Georgio deChirico who I've previously introduced.  Ah, such memories of his sunny plazas!

 

 

I wanted to make good use of those weatherbound days, but I just couldn't settle down.  The usual suspects were outside playing in the snow, totally distracting me from my Commedia dell'Arte research.

 

In fact, "distraction" doesn't begin to describe it.  Every new lead I found led me down a larger rabbit hole.  "Rabbit hole" doesn't begin to describe it, either.

 

As befits the Alice analogy, another young Englishwoman rose to the surface – Marjorie Bowen.   I'd found her as I looked for background on the Commedia character Mezzetin who, I promise, you will meet in time for Valentine's Day.

 

She was a late 19^th-early 20^th century author, writing dozens of books for the popular press – primarily novels of history, romance, and the supernatural.  One of her "twilight tales" had referred to Mezzetin.

 

What was a nice girl like her doing in a place like this?   What was I doing??  Okay. I reviewed  my key personal objectives – to keep trying to create plausible (if not strictly speaking "realistic") faces and figures.  With that, I altered the production schedule to settle, simply, for a portrait of Marjorie Bowen.

 

Well, that started off rather eerily, didn't it?  Here's the final version, "Marjorie Unmasked" copyright 2024.

 

Then, as I closed my sketchbook, my preliminary notes about Venice suddenly caught my eye.  Out of nowhere (as if hit by a snowball!) I remembered that Venice was home to the famous 20^th century eccentric and art collector, Peggy Guggenheim.  Hmmm…. I think I'll take a wander through her Peggy Guggenheim Collection, now a museum established in her long-time home along the Grand Canal.

 

 

It wasn't improbable to think that here in Italy, Ms. Guggenheim might have been drawn to the Commedia.  At the Museum site's Collection tab, I plugged in "Harlequin" and there it was – "Harlequin and Pierrot," the famous painting by Andre Derain.

With that, some of my veil of confusion lifted.  Before leaving the site, I started to "Browse the Collection" and before I'd viewed a dozen examples, up came an imposing deChirico palazza, with night turning to day, proving that I was on the right track!

 

Well.  Their number is legion:--  the artists, writers, actors, eccentrics, enthusiasts who have fallen in with the Commedia gang.  Every week, I discover another one.  How about the once renowned, now unknown, Lodovico Ottavio Burnacini, a 17^th-century Italian architect and theatrical designer?

 

Let's hop on his clown wagon and trust the process, knowing that some day we'll get through intermission and eventually on to the closing act?

 

This whole thing is totally pants!

 

My timing is so off.  How did I manage to be virtually snowbound with a house full of wacky characters from the Commedia dell'Arte?   Featured this month – at his own connivance – is one of the Commedia's Big Four characters, Pantalon (with or without the final -e).

 

 As Wikipedia describes him:  

Pantalone, as he was called, was a greedy, lecherous, scheming old man who often ended up being duped and humiliated…   With little else to occupy his thoughts after a life as a tradesman or merchant, Pantalone is the metaphorical representation of money in the commedia world…, the intent for Pantalone was to ensure that he had the status that allowed him to meddle in the affairs of others.

Not at all a Mr. Nice Guy – but even so, he attracted Rembrandt's notice with this drawing.

 

 

Switching from the classy heights of Rembrandt, you can read here about the name "Pantalon" itself.  Yes, the word "pantaloon" is a derivative – as is a contemporary British expression like today's title:  "This is just pants!" means – it's totally ridiculous.

 

Thinking of my neighbours as models, I'd planned to match Pantalone with this Nice Young Man (who I've masked in Vancouver pandemic style vs. Commedia style).  An I.T. guy in a Provincial department, he's married to a fabric artist and is the loving dad of this little pug. (We once had two pugs on the block; now sadly, there's only one).  In any case, I thought Young Man could definitely handle Pantalon's typical red tights.

 

But how to paint him?  Pulcinella's link with Naples gave me the cue to look for a city connected with Pantalon.  Venice!!  Omigosh, yes – historically, the wealthy mercantile centre of East-West trade across the Mediterranean.   Famously, the big civic feast here is not workingman's pizza but plenty of oysters and other seafood.

 

And then:  Head-smack, as friend A would say. (Have I been doing that a lot lately?)  Of course!  Venice is known for Carnival.

 

 

I've tried to minimize mask visuals since I have a few friends who really do not like them.  But Pantalon was not so circumspect.  Once among his familiars, he let loose – leading me a merry chase through those medieval streets and canals – until I pinned him down in the perfect place – the Teatro Italia.

 

I was utterly enchanted with the juxtaposition of this Commedia bad boy with a classic theatre – until I read further.  No -- beautiful as it is, it's scarcely an oldie at all, having been built in 1915 and having gone through several  incarnations as Not-a-Theatre-At-All.

 

Despite its gorgeous Art Nouveau decorations, it was going to wrack and ruin  -- before being reclaimed and renovated by the huge Italian grocery chain, "Despar."  That suggests "desperate", doesn't it?  But take a look:

 

Hmmm.  Better than abandonment, I guess – here's a video to help you judge for yourself.  And what better environment for our scheming merchant Pantalon? 

 

Okay – rather than focusing on those red tights, I decided on a close-up – partly modeled on Young Man with Pug and partly on Harold Weston's self-portrait, which I copied for my summertime "Empty Frame" series.

 

Here's the final of "Pantalon Checks the Competition (copyright 2024)".  Here he is, outside the Teatro Italia, clocking in with that indispensable tool of the modern-day businessman – his cell phone.

 

 

Closer to home, in this frigidly cold snowy week, the morning's footprints show that another band of masked revelers is twirling their ringed tails in the dark of night.  Totally pants!!