Dear Art Lover,
If you see my posts on Facebook and now
Instagram at times, no doubt you have seen images of my landlord’s scruffy
little Terrier [terror?] dog named Gregory.
He is two years old now, and I get to be his babysitter at times. Yesterday, Gregory got to visit a frantoio,
the place where olives are squashed into olive
oil, or green gold, as we call
it here. First the olives are filtered to
remove as many of the leaves as possible.
That is what is happening in the conveyor belt images you see. This frantoio is in the process of
changing technologies, as many are. The laws are getting stricter and many of
the established places using the large crushing stone mills are deemed too dirty to be
able to continue. But here, you will see
the old machines in the background.
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| Trimming olive trees is an ongoing process, even an hour before pressing. |
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| Gregory enters il frantoio! |
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| Gregory loves a road trip! |
I
was surprised that they even let me in with Gregory and even though I tried to
get as many pics as I could of the dog near the action [just for fun], I was
conscious of the gift of everyone sort of turning a blind eye to this. Although, Italians are accustomed to seeing
dogs in places that American stores and businesses would never allow.
Oh, and the title of this post “Olive
Juice” is a play on words that my aunts and mother have used. Maybe it came from a book or film? If you say it right, it sounds like “I love
you.”
+++++++++
This year's olive harvest was low in general due to the drought in the spring and summer. I
did not participate much at all, other than one day cooking lunch for the two
Tuscan brothers who work this land near my home [the eldest being my landlord,
the youngest is the owner/cook at a local restaurant]. However, for me, hearing them both say that
what I cooked was GOOD was pretty rewarding.
However, in Casignano, outside
of Florence,
where I used to help with the olive harvest, the family I know there did the harvest
without their patriarch, Renato. He died
this summer at the age of 95. I went
to Casignano for the funeral, but did not return for the harvest this year. My thoughts are with them. So, here is a pastel painting that I did of
Renato’s grandson Marco running down the gentle sloping hill towards some of
their olive trees. I love the freedom in
this image and hope that it does something good for you, as well.
Childhood in Casignano
12 x 18 inches
Pastel on UART
Acid-free Premium sanded paper
© 2017
Kelly Borsheim
$600
Ships unframed, but mounted on
foam core, from Austin, Texas.
[Pickup is available, if you like.]
Please contact me if you are
interested in this artwork.
Peace and thank you,
Kelly Borsheim, artist
P.S. IF original art, while
affordable, is STILL a bit out of your budget, or the piece you adored has
sold? Or do you like arty things in
different formats, to surround yourself with art? Looking for a gift? See my store online for pillow, phone cases,
shower curtains, towels, tote bags, and yes, even prints on metal, wood,
canvas, and so much more:
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| This year's harvest was low due to drought |
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| Lovely how people help one another! |
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| Neighbor Kathy took this shot of Gregory and me in front of the old crushing stones. |
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| Those EARS! |
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| First filter to remove leaves and stems |
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| Green olives in foreground are being weighed. |
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| Centrifuge |
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| Some of the older presses |
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| Cool that people get to work on their own oil! |
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| Final filter after centrifuge |
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| Sitting on my lap and watching the final filter |
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| Green gold olive oil |
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| Gregory, il capo -- the boss :-) |
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| They carry this to a nearby location to pour the oil into the owner's containers. |
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| This expression just amuses me. |
