I wonder if art imitates life, or influences it. And this time by “art”, I mean science fiction writing. During my return trip to the Questura, Italian Immigration Police, I was fingerprinted (each digit on both hands) and they took one of my passport photos. I wondered about this omission of the photo earlier, but in the States, they sometimes reuse the foto in their digital files when one renews a Driver’s License.
While each dito was being scanned, I was thinking of “The Prisoner” TV show (“I am NOT a number.”) and about sci-fi programs in which eyes scanners are used for entry into a secured building or ID-chips were implanted into a person’s neck, just under the skin.
When I was a child, I was frightened by an episode of “Night Gallery.” The story was about an extremely prolific painter who was also business savvy. He kept a huge inventory of paintings in his basement, releasing them periodically on a well-planned schedule. They were not TRULY his, however, until he signed them with his thumbprint.
Unfortunately for him, his wife adhered to the principle of “Everybody’s favorite artist is a dead artist.” and she offed him so that the prices for his art would skyrocket. She was no idiot killer, though. She cut off his thumb and kept it in a jar of formaldehyde for adding those authenticating signatures.
I remember thinking that I would never put my body parts into my artworks because I did not relish the idea of someone thinking that my body was more important to him than it is to me.
Allora, I left the Questura today with a letter stating that my next appointment to receive my Permesso di Soggiorno that expired last September 2008 is in May 2009. Only after this date will I be able to apply for the 2009 renewal. è strano!
The rest of my day went better because I was drawing. My friend Luigo is a co-owner of the High Bar in Florence, Italy. He asked me to come draw portraits tonight at the bar. One of the artworks I created was this short sketched portrait of a new friend Catia. She was a good model despite the raging dance music that made us both not want to sit still. And we only worked for maybe 10 or 15 minutes.
This was fun for me because Catia said that although she works at the famous Uffizi Gallery, she has never had a portrait drawn of her. Despite the short time and the dark lighting, I was pleased with this effort. Pictured here is Catia, with her portrait, me, and Luigo at the High Bar. After the photos, I fixed the inside corner of the eye on the left – lowering it. I wish that I had darkened the neck properly – it does not look as though it tucks into the turtleneck she has on. And changed the angle.
