Christmas Decorations Florence Italy

Dear Art-loving friend,

Tuesday the 16^th was my last night in central Firenze with friends . . . for a little while in any event.   We all met in Santo Spirito and took up a large room in the back of Cabiria, enjoying warmth, friendship, jokes, photo taking, and aperitivo.

Slowly our party lessened as the hour got later.  People drifted one way or another, lingering outside the bar in front of the Basilica di Santo Spirito.  This year children’s art was projected up onto the distinctively shaped but plain façade.  I was hoping to get a shot of the airplane one that I saw as I first arrived, but my friends assured me that the show continued for over 20 minutes and thus we moved on.  Peccato! 

At least I was able to convince them to take a small detour to see Via Romana decorated with bicycles and wheels.  And thus the walk home began, losing a friend here and there as the turn-off to various homes appeared along the path.  One advantage to living further out than most of my friends is seeing them off, and then walking alone at night in this lovely town.  The skating rink was the last image that I took, but sadly it was closed at this hour.  I had wanted to try it out before I left Firenze this year, but it was not to happen.

During my recent return to Caprese Michelangelo, I got a new idea from a dear friend about how to renew my permesso di soggiorno (permission to stay).  That lead to a bit of “last minute” running around [including being flustered by a post office strike, short office hours meaning a lost day, and the next day being told to go elsewhere when it was not exactly true].  However, hard-headedness and curbing my growing temper helped me be introduced to a woman in the Immigration Office who explained much of the Italian law to me and tell me a variety of options that I could pursue.   

At this time, all of my options mean first returning to the USA and applying for a new visa.  So, I am sticking to the plan for the moment:  90 days outside of Schengen Territory (most of Europe), up to 90 days back into Italy, and then I go back Stateside.  I am safe in Croatia now and I have a lot to accomplish and figure out before then!  

And in case you missed my recent art newsletter about Carrara and BLIND stone carvers, please click here:

http://www.borsheimarts.com/news/2014_12_ArtNews-CarraraBlindStoneCarvers.htm

Thank you. 

 

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Blatant Promo:  Give art or at least an art book as a Christmas gift – more unusual and personal than many other choices.  Check out my site for options:  http://BorsheimArts.com

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A third way you may help is to forward this blog to someone you think may appreciate it.  The more readers, the more comments online, and wallah… lovers of art and Italy unite.

http://artbyborsheim.blogspot.com

Thank you for your interest and enthusiasm,

Kelly

~ Kelly Borsheim, sculptor, painter, writer, teacher

http://BorsheimArts.com

Permesso di Soggiorno Italy

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),
I am in Italy now and this post is not about art. It is about politics or at least government. And if you want to stay in Italy (or in most parts of Europe) for longer than 90 days, you must obtain a visa (probably from the Italian Consulate in your home country, as I had to do in America) and within eight days of arriving in Italia, you must apply for the “Permesso di Soggiorno” (permission to stay). Over the many years that I have been doing this, the process has become easier – a bit.
For many years it has been possible to go to the postale (post office) instead of directly to the Questura (immigration police). That is wonderful because the Questura is only open in the early morning for this part of the process and if you wait in line for hours, but arrive too late to the door, you get to repeat the experience. The post office has much better hours!

The color for the Postale is yellow. You will see a yellow banner in the signs announcing a post office and the bicycles of the mail carriers are yellow. When you enter the post office, you must take a ticket from a yellow machine and wait for your ticket number to be posted on the board with the number window for you to approach. Which ticket you choose depends on the service you want. For my task this week, I took an “F” ticket. This ticket is for the “Sportello Amico” (Friendly Window) and it is there that I picked up my application packet for the Permesso di Soggiorno.

As with English, legal language is not always clear and I had a friend help me through the forms. I do not understand government much at all. For example, one must buy a Marca da Bollo. That is a special stamp that currently costs 14.62 euros, but you cannot buy it at the Postale. You must go to a tobacco shop to buy one. The only purpose I can see for this is to share the wealth with the little guy. [Tobacco shops are everywhere. Besides tobacco, you may also buy cell phone minutes with most carriers, as well as lottery tickets. They have a decent-sized “T” sticking out from the wall so you may fine them.]

Anyway, the next day, I returned to Firenze, got my F ticket from the machine, verified a question that I had about my application (I had understood the word, but not the question on the form. It simply said: “Frontiera” or “border,” which I took to mean that they wanted to know which city I had flown into in Italia. In truth, I did not get the impression the postwoman knew the answer either but she nodded as if my guess was as good as hers), bought my health insurance for one year, and paid the application fee. [I had already attached the purchased Marca da Bollo stamp to the correct position on the application.]
I now am legally here, as long as I bring my original documents with my application receipts to the Questura on my appointment date in February. Whew…

This last image was taken during my reward: a stroll around the Duomo (Cathedral) in central Florence, Italy. So happy to be home! [That is probably a bit premature – ha!]

Happy Birthday, Momma!

Questura Italian Immigration Police

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

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.

Questura Italian Immigration Police

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

Once while I was street painting here in Florence, Italy, I met an actor. He told me that most actors must learn how to express emotions in a dramatic way. However, Italian actors must often struggle to “tone down” their normal behavior in order to be believable.

I thought of this conversation this morning. I live with a couple, Doria and Luca, and they know that I am not fond of being vertical in the early morning. When I emerged from my room ready to leave the house before 8 am, Luca asked me if something was wrong. And Doria, . . . well, Doria’s shocked expression crumbling into confusion and shaking her head in disbelief with appropriate Italian hand gestures was worthy of some kind of award.

It made me smile as I rode my bike over to Via della Fortezza to see the Questura, Italy’s Immigration Police. I was going to need that chuckle. My Permesso di Soggiorno expired in September 2008. I have visited the Questura four times last fall to meet with them as requested. As of 3 November they told me that everything was in order and when my Permesso was ready, they would call me.

I only sought information since I have heard nothing in over three months. I am a little worried because I want to return to Texas to teach a class or two, but am unsure of whether or not I will be able to enter Italy again. One traveling friend was stopped in the aeroporto in England and actually spent the night in jail while police checked on why his documentation was not in order. Siamo in Italia (We are in Italy.) Things are different here. [Or are they? Not having traveled much, I do not really know how it is in other countries if one wants to stay longer than 90 days.]

The Questura is only open from 8:15-9:15 each weekday morning. I was there. The line was short (because of the rain, I suppose. Note to self.) I now understand what probably most people already know: It is better to give the police LESS information than more. When the policeman did not let me enter the building, I thought he needed to understand my dilemma better and said that I would like to leave the country, but without documents I fear I may have trouble returning.

He then told me that I must go see the Questura on Via Zara. I was confused by this, but since the process was different two years ago and my original Permesso application was in this other location, I thought, “Well. Ok.” My mistake was explained to me in this other building. After a phone call, the second policeman told me that the first policeman had misunderstood me and thought I needed a passport. I was told that I must go back to Via della Fortezza because all Permesso and Rinnovo are done at that location. I felt truly frustrated!

I found this strange because most Italians understand me since my vocabulary is limited. It is me who sometimes lacks understanding. I told my second helper that I was worried because it was now after nine and I was not sure they would be open when I arrived. “Non ti preoccupare. Lui aspetta per te.” (Don’t worry. He is waiting for you.)

My original policeman was no longer at the door, but behind a nearby window. He recognized me and called over his colleague, Marco. Marco was also very kind (as they all were, really) and listened to me before explaining that to wait six months is not unusual. He told me that the (outdated) receipts that I have should be enough to re-enter the country, but I was still skeptical.

Then Marco explained that if I still wanted some information, I would have to return tomorrow at 8:15 am, “We are closed now.” Mi uccidono! (They are killing me!)

I know many people living in Florence who are technically illegally here. It is easy to understand why. Here are a couple of shots I have taken during misty Florentine days.