In Practice on December 14, 2012 at 12:11 pm
The Plaza de San Francisco is one of Seville’s most regal, lined as it is with the facades of the Audiencia, the Ayuntamiento and the Adriatica’s curved corner, not to mention the terrace of balconied, 18th century town houses that would have accommodated the great and the good – chief benefactors of the city’s waning golden age. It’s one of those spots in Andalucia’s capital where you can stop for a moment, raise your nose in the air – otherwise scented with oranges or their blossoms – and still catch the reek of all the money that came pouring into this town, off the backs of South American slave miners for the most part, I would have thought.
Dark history aside, it’s a beautiful place, and rarely dark in this day and age. On the contrary, the plaza is sunny and colourful, a venue for everything from Christmas markets to Easter processions. At a distance from its southeastern corner, but tall enough to preside over it, is the Giralda – Seville Cathedral’s bell tower, symbol of Spain and former minaret, topped now with a 16th century addition: the belfry. People forget that the Moors built skyscrapers. The Almohads in particular – they erected the Giralda as well as its sister tower in Rabat in their native Morocco, both of them modelled on the Koutoubia minaret in Marrakesh. More
In Presentation, Production on May 31, 2011 at 10:36 am
This has to be the best way to see Marbella.
I think that might be a Lamborghini down there. Or a Ferrari – I wouldn’t know the difference from this high up. I’ve seen a Porsche, plenty of Gucci, horse-drawn carriages. Down there. With the great unwashed.
It isn’t for me though. Not tonight. The streets with their clutter and noise and ordinary people. In Ferraris. I hang aloft up here with my stemmed glass and survey like the birds that fascinate me above Tarifa. Mine is an imperial perspective. Decadent. Faintly ridiculous.
…burn baby burn…
I’m not alone. K clinks my glass and we laugh. We are enjoying ourselves; brushing against the edges of mania – happy. We are bathed in changing colours; and we are wet.
…disco inferno!… More
In Practice, Production on May 3, 2011 at 10:44 am
It’s the mark of home. On the wall, over the sofa.
A trophy of our travels – we picked it up in the old city of Jerusalem in one of the covered bazaars there. The vendor was the usual blend of charm and ruthlessness but I believe we may even have gotten it for a half decent price.
The work is not particularly fine and a close inspection of the detail unforgiving but it’s handmade at least – a quality that distinguishes it from the rest of the “shit” that was on display in the man’s shop. His word, not mine.
Most of it’s made in China, he happily informed us.
Not this though, and I believed him. It would be a rare machine indeed – and not in a good way – that could weave the irregularities or simulate the errors which the curious eye can see all over its surface. More