_SEA'RCh^{ing for} Turin'^s shrouD ⁱⁿ ᓐ Mus^euming gaLLe_ry of ARC_ades + finƉ^ing: { Pessoa | Roa | goaT^s | Céline | Messner's Tent | Stanford's Conditions } TAXi^Dermied _in stead

rëSearch VE^HICLESSel _for ∀RK Cŏd∃x [a natural science museum in Turin]

1^st imPreS.S.ion of «TORINO» = backSEAt _{of a} CAR ^{we had} gRowing ᕫP [nØt far off consideRing ∫ome conSider TURIN = DETROIT d'Italia] ||

filmsTrip screEN^ing _{of ᓐ} overLaid [5¢|ᓴA] tag in Torino

late^ly [here] on 5¢ense yoU may'^ve notice^d ᓐ ∃Limination ^di [TO BE] + ∀ny + ∀ll forms of IT from this voCABulary/lexICONagraphy | per questa matter «THE» = ᓐ uneceS.S.ary artICLE ± anY artICLE claim^ing poSSeSSion ^{di un} word ᖷollowing IT || + «AND» = real_ly just ᓐ ADDitive gesT^exture [rëPlaced _by «+»] + «OR» = rëPlaced _by «±» | altro PRE-conditions maY ∃xist rëFlecting ᓐ Σum _of ∀ll conVentions posted beFore [this] in forMu[^til|t]ating a LEXiCON ||

lan^dGuage aSide [this] PARtiCULLar voYage took us to Turin for: Terra Madre/Slow Food/Salone de Gusto thoUgh «i» won't rë¶eat mYself as «i» already went on about that 2 years ago + nothing'^s NEWs [tranne veniamo N _da Roma inVece _di Nairobi] | in GENiEral ᓐ cool place _to see peoples _from ∀ll OVEr ᓐ planet gæthered togæther _to honor . . . [g|F]OOD ||

molding cheeses husked in barnyard funk

∫ome 1 we kNew tHere dreamT vioLent^ly weird AFTer eating aBove moldY fromage de France whereIN: ᓐ RAM [see below] attacked him + he woke up screaming + headbutt^ing aRound his hotel room [true story nØt ^to mention ^any names] ||

goat jerky [^with goat TYPE^s feaTured ⁱⁿ last Sardinian post]

we grazed on such delectables washed down with wines from ᓐ enoteca [of note [mostly Piedmont since that's where we were]: { Barbaresco '07 [Cantina del Nebbiolo] | Monferrato Rosso Valarent '06 [Eredi di Angelino Ezio] | Agliancio '07 [Antica Enotria -  Puglia] | Babone '07 [Muralia - Toscana] | } | + AFTer dinner back in town at Cantine Barbaroux [porcini's in season!] | ᓐ 2^nd time aRound we = eVen più jaded + conFlicted ^about this eXpressION of «SLOW FOOD» [mostlY ᓐ lack ^of scienze + ᓐ hypocrisy _{of it} ∀ll]

ᓐ rëMaining Σ^of time whilST j = in meetjngs «i» flâneᕫred TᕫRin sto¶ping ⁱⁿ MUSEums + _SEA'RCh^{ing for} co[d|s]e unSEӔn prior di questo tempo ||

finestral diSplay + ᓐ castello LOOM^ing OVErhead

TURIN ^as seen aCross river Po ^da steps ^di Gran Madre

in case yoU = blind: ᓐ birds eye map ^with Braille overlay

nØt [to be] MEan ma perché avrebbero ᓐ sightSEEing map per ᓐ blind = beYond me ma «i» appreciate ᓐ gesT^EXTure | if only «i» had hindsight to bring rubBEing materials | ᓐ next image is what it looks like in ᓐ middle of ᓐ spiral of MONTE DEI CAPPUCCINI:

Capuchin Church [scusa me mentre bacio il cielo]

anche sulla Cappuccinni mountain = ∫ome ∫ort of MounTaiNeering MUSE^um ma feeding this word [«museum»] unsynchs imag_ices by virtue of anticipation | textural æsthetics detourMINE order not flânering SEQuence ||

MOTH_er imag_ice [Museo Regionale di Scienze Naturali]

Dalla Sicilia (1961)—Mimmo Rotella [in Galeria D'Arte Moderna [a.k.a. GAM]]

[framed [in [ᓐ frame] shop]]

wHere ᓐ shroud is housed unseæN

aBove shows ᓐ sealed coffin where ᓐ notorious shroud of Turin lays [in Cattedrale di San Giovanni] | (i, j) found it lurking tHere in ᓐ dark corner with no 1 else in sight | unfortunately we missed it's public display back in May perché habbiamo appena arrivato in Rome + were searching for ᓐ home | adesso ∀ll we saw was it's enclosure + ᓐ fake [in ᓐ church next door] | nØt that ᓐ «real» shroud isn't a fake ma as ᓐ forge ± fiction it rëMains a masterpiece for what it is | when «i» was studying physics in Arizona «i» had colleagues inVolved in ᓐ carbon dating ᓐ shroud | ᓐ fact that: «The results of radiocarbon measurements at Arizona, Oxford and Zurich yield a calibrated calendar age range with at least 95% confidence for the linen of the Shroud of Turin of AD 1260 - 1390» was not mentioned in the church literature on site | in a handout on «How to Read the Holy Shroud» they deScribe the shroud as: «the winding sheet in which, according to tradition, the body of Christ was wrapped after his death on the Cross and then laid in a new tomb.» | if this = true then Christ = Medieval ± we now live in ᓐ 8^th century A.D. | ∀ll this in no way diminishes ma only stokes my fascination with ᓐ shroud as ᓐ literary fiction—ᓐ giant broadside in lineN—ᓐ huMan Gyotaku in blood—1 hell ^of ᓐ imag_ice to PONDer reGardeless _of whether it = TRUE ± REAL—a work _of ART ||

COINcidentally in ᓐ same church as ᓐ shroud = ᓐ altar dedicated to [ᓐ rock-climbing]: Pier Giorgio Frassati—ᓐ uncle ^of nostra landlady ||

+ more than ᓐ shroud though «i» got more geeked out WITnessing Reinhold Messner's tent that = housed on ᓐ top floor of ᓐ Museo Nazionale della Montagna—THE tent that [according to ᓐ plaque] Ressner slept in while climbing all 14 of the 8000+ meter peaks | Messner = my hero when «i» = into climbing + whose feats [+ style in which he achieved them] in mountaineering far surpass any others + funny his resemblance to Brian Evenson | + a tent of ∀ll things [for mountaineers] is probably the most intimate + personal object imaginable—to think of those sleepless + anxiety-ridden + oxygen-deprived nights he must've suffered in THIS TENT:

Reinhold Messner's tent [he slept in while climbing 14 x 8000+ meter peaks

the world is full of beautiful things + the most inteResting 1s = [t|w]Hose beauty lays beYond ᓐ SURface—that get yoU to thINKing of ᓐ hiStory emBedded in ᓐ faBric^ks of their BEing ||

Tibetan prayer book [Museo d'Arte Orientale [a.k.a. MAO]]

on the treno to Torino «i» read Rigadoon by Céline | [at the risk of sounding confessional] it's been a while [15-20 years] since my last reading of Céline—«i» forgot how jaded + brilliant he was | Rigadoon was supposedly completed on the day of his death + is about a series of train trips he [at almost 80 years old] takes with his wife + his cat [Bébert!] during WWII—fleeing France to Denmark [via Germany] | Céline is the master of fusing brooding angst with the hilariously absurd [whilst fusing compassion with not giving a fuck what people think] | granted a lot is difficult to swallow given his anti-semitic ± Nazi\Vichy leanings [perhaps forgivable as misplaced [± misunderstood] anger + with the exception of Trifles for a Massacre it doesn't figure in his work [to the contrary in Rigadoon he says things like «I say that Israel is a real fatherland that welcomes its children home and my country is a shithouse . . .» [his country of course being France] so perhaps he had reservations on his deathbed]]—a lot of the rancor in his rants still reverberates today ||

in the intro Kurt Vonnegut says: «The lesson Destouches [Céline] learned from this true story, in my opinion, if he hadn't learned it from an impoverished childhood and a stretch in the army, is that vanity rather than wisdom determines how the world is run.» ||

tram 13 in front of Gran Madre

here's something . . . to give you the idea of how Céline captured the horror of WWII . . .  in his signature style: «. . . we're in with them . . . a parade . . . they're not sad, I'd even say cheerful . . . okay! off we go . . . we haven't attracted any attention, me, Lili, and the cat . . . we're part of the crowd . . . they knew what they were talking about . . . I can see there aren't many houses standing . . . more? or less than in Berlin? the same, I'd say, but hotter, more flames, whirls of flame, higher . . . dancing . . . green . . .  pink . . .  between the walls . . . I'd never seen flames like that  . . . they must be using a different kind of incendiary gook . . . the gook . . . the funny part of it was that on top of every caved-in building, every rubble heap, these green and pink flames were dancing around . . . and around . . .»

+ «. . . there, I can tell you, we had nothing left . . . our last rags and knapsacks had disappeared in the smashup! the cave-in! seven hand trucks under the torrents of bricks, two three house fronts and forged-iron balconies! . . . ah, moonlight! you'll never see such settings and tragedies in the movies! . . . much less on the stage! they tell us that Hollywood is dead! . . . they can say that again! how can the movies deliver after what's happened for real! . . . which is why I personally can't even look at a photograph, is to putrefy! instantly! . . . anything that existed makes you sick to look at! . . . therefore transpose! . . .»

you can say that again: vanity rather than wisdom [still] determines how the world is run ||

the Mole reflected in RAI TV building

Mole Antonelliana amidst the ruins

evidently Turin was heavily shelled during WWII but you wouldn't be able to tell—most of it still feels very 17^th ± 18^th century | it has a perhaps grander + European feel to it than Rome with wide arcade-lined avenues + expansive piazzas + numerous indoor galleries + the layout + sense of space is more geometric + linear ||

typical Turin^ic gallery

Medieval staircase with St. George the dragonslayer [in Borgo Medievale]

an other museum «i» went to [got a Salone del Gusto deal for ∀ll] nØt pictured here : Museo Civico D'Arte Antica in Palazzo Madama | «i» also went back to the fantastic Museo Nazionale del Cinema but «i» blogged about that before [though instead of Polanski there was an exhibit on Vampires + Zombies] ||

discrete sky above Turin

shoe display on via Po

a volte sembra che il mondo intero è un grande museo ||

libri reflected in yet another indoor galleria

view from l'Acino ristorante [recommended—try the «tonno di coniglio» ± «tuna of rabbit»]

domed ceiling of the church [i forget the name] where THE shroud was displayed + where a full-size replica is

c'è anche qualcosa to be said about seeing le cose in stati diversi da diverse angles on different days | an isolated snapshot is pure vanity ||

pigeon before + ...

^enduring

Ramphibians

another EXT ^vewe on outside of Natural Scienze Museum

+ Σum of ᓐ best art is on ᓐ streets | like this Roa sPotted from a distance near an offshoot of ᓐ Po [by ᓐ bus station] | ± if it's not a Roa than it's some 1 ripping Roa off ||

ROA Meer-Rat [holding another rat] in Turin

+ nearby the Roa «i» saw some 1 up on a crane painting this:

Erica il Cane [in progress in Turin]

i enQuired + it was an Italian artist from Bologna going by the name of Erica Il Cane who now googling is up to some fantastic stuff like this:

back to the botched taxidermy of reality ||

sloth [science museum]

hornbill + lupus

on the outside of GAM it said «ALL ART IS CONTEMPORARY» which accurately sums up their collection | they had stuff you didn't know ± care what time period it was from | like this naked goth chic in shackles below you might think is contemporary when in fact it's 18^th century:

Giacomo Ginotti: Brugaro di Cravagliana

± this from the 17^th century:

Innocenzo Spinazzi: La Religione

for me a volte è difficile distinguere what is art ± what is artiFACT ± what belongs in a museum ± on the street ||

simian + socket

leaning bicycle + Mole

fish skeleton as inspiration for ark

reflected in the Turin opera house

rail lines near market

arcade lightning

street corner in Arabic quarter

«frontier assassin»

tram wires + tracks headed to Mole + castello

things in Turin = not as stark + desolate as these photos might lead you to think | «i» just tend to seek out views with no people in them as «i» think people & the contraptions they drive in ruin photos | ma qui sono alcune:

Turinese in iPodic siamese stereo in a populated piazza [as seen from tram]

TV vomit + Nun

on the way back «i» also finished The Book Of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa | it had my interest at first but «i» tired of it as the book progressed | it was published posthumously based on disordered scraps of paper in a trunk + «i» started to think whether it was something Pessoa even intended to be published ± whether he would've wanted it published in this form | a lot of it seemed like thoughts he was just working out in his head—a sort of private journal for his own use | «i» have shelves of such journals + scraps + would be mortified if anyone put them together after «i» died | then again «i» couldn't be MORTified if «i» was already dead | but some things you write + work out until you know it's in a final form to be «PUBLISHED» + other times it's like doodling ± sketching + it felt like a lot of the Book of Disquiet was this—textual doodling—some interesting nuggets embedded within it but as a whole ungrounded + fleeting | «i» imag_icine it might be more interesting if you've read Pessoa's poetry but «i» haven't | «i» also recently read [+ liked] Frank Stanford's Conditions Uncertain and Likely to Pass Away which also might qualify as interesting only if you've read Stanford before | it also felt intensely intimate but it was something [fictions] that Stanford wrote with the intention of being published | they are tales told from various voices—but you can't help to think some of it is autobiographical:

«To my knowledge, there has been no literary investigation and research to ever yield such stunning results as this, the facts of which I have only recently uncovered and documented. As a professional historian, I use the term recently accordingly. We have all suffered our enchantments with authors and their work—in any case, the ideas behind their work, those men and writing living and dead, profound and unfortunate, genius and talent, imaginary and real; but to be related—by blood, so to speak—to such a literary adventure, pregnant with intrigue and notorious figures, might well prove to be far more than I can endure, more than I can understand. I can forgive men's ideas and sometimes their actions, but not their imaginations. For more than not they lead to this, a regressus in infinitum. My wife had bequeathed me such a nexus of art and reality, a dizzying, reducing mirror of her past, more unfocused than the poet's mind. And it was her favorite, Mallarmé, who said we exist so we can be written in a book.»

or under the guise of another character [+ more applicable to the Pessoa situation]:

«I do not remember what music was playing as I walked down the hall towards the editing room, but I heard it; I heard it even as I opened the three canisters of mockery and deception and exploitation. I thought it strange that all three were marked with my name and not Enoch's. He'd never been made a fool of, I thought. A chance at greatness isn't worth the price of being a fool. Without looking at one frame, I took the three spools downstairs to the gallery where the coals of the fireplace were still glowing. No one was around, only the blind professor and some persistent musician, and what the great artists had left behind, and not even that, because they were prints hanging there along side of unfortunate originals by those I'd never heard of. They exploded when I threw them in the fire. They burned like the aurora borealis and St. Elmo's fire put together. "What are you doing?" the blind man said. I must have been losing my mind, because he looked like that bookseller that came to see my mother and sister on our place, our place, in my dreams.»

you can't help but to think the film in the canisters is the documentary [It Wasn't a Dream, It Was a Flood] made about Frank Stanford [which despite these perhaps fictional reservations about it being published «i» am dying to see] ||

back to Pessoa | maybe it was too intimate for me | «i» like some of the mystery to remain veiled—something to be discovered not told |  towards the beginning he says:

«I envy the people—well, I don't know if I actually envy them—whose biographies are written or who write their own. In these disconnected impressions, which I deliberately leave disconnected, I shall narrate my autobiography in an indifferent way, without facts; my history without life. These are my confessions, and if I don't say anything in them, it's because I really have nothing to say.»

disconnected yes—but «i» don't feel the book quite lived up to whatever vision of nothingness he had—or whether it felt complete | nevertheless the Book of the Disquiet took me to Portugal in the 1930s through the lens of a poet |  + it's bubbling with the occasional insights [some that hit some that don't] like:

«Only those who do not know how to think what they feel obey grammar. People who want to control their own expression use grammar. The story is told about Sigismund, King of Rome, that he made a grammatical error in one of his public speeches and responded to the person who pointed it out to him in this way: " I am King of Rome and am above grammar." And the story goes on to say that from then on he was known as Sigismund "super-grammaticam." A wonderful symbol! Every person who knows how to say what he talks about is in his way King of Rome. The title isn't bad, and its soul is being oneself.»

. . . though «i» think Pessoa might've meant to say: "Every person who knows how to say what he THINKs about..." [instead of talks about] . . . «i» am still king of my own Rome | most startling about the The Book Of Disquiet is how little the human mind has changed in all these years ||

another arcade another trolley

Warhol: Car Crash in Orange [in GAM]

view from our balcony at Dock Milano [on the 1st day we could see the Matterhorn far left under the crane]

(©omPostED|tranScribed) 2010 Derek White