Annalia S.'s photos

I was about 5 years old when my art teacher father got me my first serious painting kit. He wanted to get me oil based paints, but my mother put her foot down, so we went for more washable tempera paints. The art supply store, with its profusion of colors, its smells and mind boggling variety of brushes, spatulas, easels and palettes, was like a rutilant wonderland to me, better than any stores, even better than the toy store! What part of this phantasmagoria would be mine to take home, I wondered, excitedly. My dad took a long time selecting brushes, checking what hairs they were made of and picking different shapes and sizes. He explained his choices to me, but all I remember now is the wonder of the different textures: boar hairs were coarse and rigid, others as smooth as silk, and others even more incredibly light and almost feathery and would tickle the palm of your hand if you ran them across it. The paint tubes themselves, however, did not take long: a large tube of white, an equally large tube of black and four smaller tubes: yellow, blue and two kinds of red. Considering the endless variety of colors offered by the store, some of them - flowery pinks, aqua greens, light and dark turquoises - just irresistible to a young girl, this was a bit disappointing. “What about the other colors, Dad?” I asked. He smiled and said “You’ll see”. As we headed home he elaborated a bit on that rather unsatisfying answer: “You can make any color you saw in the store from the ones we got”. That sounded more hopeful, but I still couldn’t see how red, blue or yellow could be turned to aqua green or turquoise, or shocking pink. It sounded like some magic trick would be required. At 5 years of age, kids tend to believe their parents are all powerful. But still, magic tricks didn’t seem like his cup of tea. And yet, magic it was, of course. A wonderful magic that makes yellow and blue turn into a whole palette of greens depending on how much of each gets mixed in. And red and yellow into orange, blue and red into purple, but … wait! Red was a bit different; to get the right results, red had to come in two different versions: scarlet and vermillion. You needed scarlet red to make purple and vermillion red to make a proper orange. Switch them around and the magic would not work right. Vermillion red and blue made brown, not purple. And scarlet and yellow made a sort of salmon pink instead of orange. I understood the principle and could see some difference in those two colors, but still, red is red, isn’t it? Vermillion just seemed a little lighter and perhaps more brilliant than scarlet, but still it was just red to me. I did not really “get” vermillion, not until - that is - I saw my first pomegranate tree, or rather, the absolutely flamboyant flowers of the pomegranate tree. If you have ever seen them in real life, I think you’ll agree that “red” just does not do justice to them, doesn’t even begin to describe their happy, sunny, light-filled color that stands out so strikingly against the brilliant green of the leaves. The main photo and PIPs are all from two beautiful pomegranate trees in Piazza Savonarola's little city park which, this time of year, are in full bloom. I swear I must have spent nearly an hour there, shooting this way and that, into the trees and under the trees, sticking my camera through the branches to get close to the busy bees that were visiting their beautiful vermillion flowers. I hope you enjoy … well, I can’t say the fruit of my labour. It’s not really labour when you are having that much fun, is it? :) This is especially dedicated to Andy and Maurice (HappySnapper) who are going through tough times. Errata corrige: Upon rereading I realize I used the wrong red for the one that gives purple if mixed with blue: it's carmine, not scarlet! Sorry. Should re-read my stuff before I publish! :))

Evening light lights up the fence surrounding the restoration work in progress at the site in the Cascine Park where decades ago I used to go dancing at the Meccanò discotheque (now long abandoned and finally demolished in 2016). A small colony of stray cats that had lived for many years in the abandoned lot seems to have been provided with shelters just outside the grounds under restoration. A couple of the "tenants" showed up while I was taking photos (see PIP) and a young boy attempted to approach one of them, while his mother advised "Move slowly, darling, so you don't frighten it". When a second cat showed up coming in from the side, however, it was the boy that took fright and decided the best part of valor was ... retreat! :) HFF everyone and may you have a colorful, light-filled weekend!

Falling angels in primary colors at the underpass.

Have a lovely week, everyone!

After years of field observations, my husband may be about to publish a paper on a new disease he has discovered, which he calls floritis. A seasonal ailment, floritis appears to strike each year between March and June, but may have different seasonal patterns depending on latitude and climate. Photographers seem to have a strong predisposition for floritis and should be considered a high risk population. The primary signs and symptoms of the disease, which manifest more keenly during walks, include a tendency to oh! and ah! every few minutes, whipping out pocket cameras or smartphones every few meters, getting into odd, contorted positions, primarily kneeling low on the ground but occasionally also climbing up steep embankments, squeezing into tight spots, invading the privacy of people’s gardens, and otherwise greatly impeding the progress and disrupting the overall enjoyment of conjugal walks. Other manifestations include spending considerable amounts of time in the garden - to the detriment of other domestic chores, such as fixing delicious meals for hungry spouses - but with nothing to show for it in terms of actual improvements in the upkeep of the garden or any other conceivable gardening activities. The disease needs further study with a larger cohort of subjects and double blind control groups, but, in the meantime, my husband considers it of vital importance that a photography community, such as Ipernity, should be on the look out for this menace to the wellbeing of photographers and (especially) their families. While in most cases the disease appears to resolve spontaneously as soon as the summer heat turns vegetation a dusty brown, there are documented cases of floritis affecting certain photographers all through the summer months and some highly predisposed individuals appear to never get over it altogether. In the PIPs some typical outcomes of the above described contorted positions are shown, to further help enlighten the community regarding this pernicious disorder.

The shadow of a park lamp on a blue fence that bars entry to a work in progress area along the banks of the river. In the PIPs: people on both banks seem to enjoy stopping to watch the work and comment. HFF everybody and have a great weekend, with no droopiness, no "blues", no work in progress detaining you!

The botanical garden was not open on Friday when I had a free hour I would have loved to spend there. It's open only twice a week these days ... :( But, then, some visitors don't have to worry about opening times and getting a ticket :))) (No, I didn't jump the fence ... Shot this between the fence bars)

A gentleman at the park takes advantage of a bench carved out of the stump of one of many trees felled by a freak weather phenomenon a few yers ago. In the pip front view of the bench. Have a great week, everybody!

Are you thinking of fixing a colorful and tasty fruit salad with real fruit that has not seen the inside of a refrigerator? Fancy a very Florentine "panino col lampredotto" for lunch? Need a summer hat? Want a bouquet of flowers for a loved one's birthday or a new potted plant for your balcony? Hungry for some pecorino cheese? Well, Sant'Ambrogio's open air market is where you want to be! After the Central Market got gentrified and "touristified", Sant'Ambrogio's is one of the very few real open air markets left and the only one near the center of town. Small but kaleidoscopically diverse (see PIPs), it's a feast for the eyes.

If we could send you flowers, Andy, this is what your room would look like. There would hardly be room for the medical equipment, the nurses and doctors would have to navigate a narrow path among the bouquets to get to you, the cleaning crew would throw a conniption fit and the other patients would emerge from unconsciousness to stare in bewilderment at the riot of colors. Well, we can't, of course, so you'll just have to imagine it. When frustration threatens to get you down, close your eyes for a moment and imagine something like this: florist after florist bringing in flowery get well wishes - "These are for Mr. Rodker, should I leave them with you, Nurse?" And the nurses getting less and less professional, until they burst out:"This is an ICU, for God's sake!" I hope something brings you a smile today, Andy. The road is undeniably long and tough and smiles will help.

Fence upon fence upon a closed door with peeling paint block entrance to an old farm house that has been for years in use by a local Scouts group, but has remained closed for the duration of the pandemic. A bit "in your face", but I liked the colors and the textures. In the PIP a different view of the same subject. Happy Fence Friday to everyone. Have a colorful weekend!

For years I rode the bus and tram to work. At that time in the morning and then again in the afternoon when everyone gets off work, the buses are packed with short tempered and often not exactly sweet-smelling masses. It's the perfect time of the day for pickpockets and you have to be very careful with your purse or billfold. One day in 2008, on the occasion of a general transportation strike, I decided to try my luck and ride my bike there and back, a 1 hour ride right across town each way. That first day, when I got to work my face was the color of a ripe tomato. But here I am, 13 years later, and I never went back to using public transportation to get to work. Over the years, I experimented with various routes and now most of my way there I follow the course of the river, through riverside parks, trails and bike paths. I think the photos show quite clearly why I much prefer starting my day this way rather than on a crowded, smelly bus ... Not to mention that, nowadays, public transportation is also a hot bed that seems almost specifically designed to help the virus spread. The blue flowers in the photos are common chicory flowers. Chicory is used widely in Italian cuisine and cultivated in most kitchen gardens. So much so, that it manages to escape and reseed itself just about anywhere. While it likes growing on open lawns, you can only see the flowers in the morning, because they close up tightly and become invisible when the sun hits them directly. For Andy: may the road to recovery, even if challenging in itself, include little pleasant surprises that make the work less hard.

Inner court yard of the Murate complex. The sign reads something like this: “Those who stop, get to dream”. HBM and have a dreamy week, everyone!

Like many here, I think about you often, Andy, and check on Isabel's news on your progress first thing after I log in. Today, I went through my images to find one that would help me show what goes on in my thoughts when I think of what you, and your family along with you, are going through. As photographers, we know full well that darkness has its uses, and its lures. But we also know that, just as light needs darkness to define its contours, so too darkness is nothing without light to show its edges. And light is waiting for you, Andy, just beyond the rim of your closed lids: you have been resting in darkness for a long time now and it’s time to remember, as a much better photographer than I will ever be once told me, that “it’s all about the light”. Let the light in, let it give you back your days, your loves and your loved ones, your zest for life that we miss so much. Your body took a beating, and perhaps a bit more rest might still be needed to build back its strength after the terrible battle it fought, but now you must try to put the memory of that terror behind you and let light do its magic, just like it does in so many of the pictures we all love. We are all waiting, along with you, Andy, for that moment when the first light breaks through and brings the world back out of the shadows.

Florence's old jail, known colloquially as "Le Murate" (the Walled-in)*, was gradually restructured between 2001 and 2010 and turned into a residential complex (with some spaces used for public functions). The architectural design maintained, and in a sense "played" with, the institutional look of the old buildings, while contriving ways to add some "relief" to the old cells by adding originally shaped balconies and bow windows, and by repurposing as balconies/hanging gardens the old gangways that connected different cell blocks (see first PIP). Large steel bracings were used inside to open up the walls connecting cells in order to create larger rooms and apartments. * The vernacular name of the jail does not, however, refer to the prison inmates, but rather to the original inhabitants of the cells: before being turned into a jail, this complex was in fact a convent for cloistered nuns and was originally built as a complex of cells, with only a few large common areas. HAPPY FENCE FRIDAY and may you be as free as a bird this weekend!

We got visitors the other day, some showed up upstairs and one ... (see PIP) downstairs! :)

In a newly reopened park after the lifting of restrictions on the use of public spaces. Have a great week everyone and ... watch where you park your fanny! :D

Evening light filters through at a slant and helps reveal the intricate structure of the railway bridge as seen from the Arno River trail. In the PIP: a southbound Frecciarossa high speed train crosses the railway bridge. Happy Fence Friday! And happy travels to those who are taking advantage of the lifting of travel restrictions!