Two pictures. One a drawing, a pencil sketch, done by M. C. Escher in the 1930s. The other a photograph taken in 2003. Notice the
church. The bell tower (it's undergoing repairs in `03). The promenade in the drawing has been expanded into a road in the photo. And other than that, the two images are the same. Buildings piled on top of each other as they climb up the hill from the bay. The church in its prominent position on the outcrop, mirroring its prominent position in the lives of the townsfolk. This is Atrani, a tiny fishing village on the Amalfi coast of Italy. It's a place where life has moved slowly for centuries. The modern age has brought conveniences - electricity, running water, central heat, telephones, radio, TV. And tourists. There were tourists in the 20s and thirties. Middle-class Brits and Europeans seeking relief from the cold northern climes. They came in search of sunshine and warmth and flowers and the blue waters of the Tyrrhenian. Escher came. He loved what he saw. He drew the tiny fishing villages clinging to the steep hills that dive down into the sea. In doing so, he preserved for us forever the image of a world that used to be, a world perched on the edge of great changes, a way of life on the cusp of modernity. Before the rush began. Fortunately, there's still not a
lot of rushing going on here. Except maybe for the tourists. And there's not much you can do about them. As anyone who follows my blog knows by now, I'm opposed to rushing. I like a slower-paced lifestyle, one that our modern society makes pretty near impossible. Unless you happen to be born with a lot of money. Or you just don't care to own a home, get married, raise children, live life. I love Escher's Italian illustrations even better than his geometric compositions. Most people go crazy about his pictures of interconnected people and animals, his bizarre architectural constructions. I like those too. They're awesome. But what I love are these images, done mostly in pencil, of the small villages along the Italian coast, where life moved along according to the arc of the sun and the sweep of the tides instead of the frantic vibrations of a quartz crystal that twirls the hands of the watch around its face. I look at this photograph, and I see all of those cars, and I wonder what governs life there now -the sun or the clock?
church. The bell tower (it's undergoing repairs in `03). The promenade in the drawing has been expanded into a road in the photo. And other than that, the two images are the same. Buildings piled on top of each other as they climb up the hill from the bay. The church in its prominent position on the outcrop, mirroring its prominent position in the lives of the townsfolk. This is Atrani, a tiny fishing village on the Amalfi coast of Italy. It's a place where life has moved slowly for centuries. The modern age has brought conveniences - electricity, running water, central heat, telephones, radio, TV. And tourists. There were tourists in the 20s and thirties. Middle-class Brits and Europeans seeking relief from the cold northern climes. They came in search of sunshine and warmth and flowers and the blue waters of the Tyrrhenian. Escher came. He loved what he saw. He drew the tiny fishing villages clinging to the steep hills that dive down into the sea. In doing so, he preserved for us forever the image of a world that used to be, a world perched on the edge of great changes, a way of life on the cusp of modernity. Before the rush began. Fortunately, there's still not a 
lot of rushing going on here. Except maybe for the tourists. And there's not much you can do about them. As anyone who follows my blog knows by now, I'm opposed to rushing. I like a slower-paced lifestyle, one that our modern society makes pretty near impossible. Unless you happen to be born with a lot of money. Or you just don't care to own a home, get married, raise children, live life. I love Escher's Italian illustrations even better than his geometric compositions. Most people go crazy about his pictures of interconnected people and animals, his bizarre architectural constructions. I like those too. They're awesome. But what I love are these images, done mostly in pencil, of the small villages along the Italian coast, where life moved along according to the arc of the sun and the sweep of the tides instead of the frantic vibrations of a quartz crystal that twirls the hands of the watch around its face. I look at this photograph, and I see all of those cars, and I wonder what governs life there now -the sun or the clock?
No comments:
Post a Comment