Paintings from Curitiba, Parana; Curitiba

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Three from Curitiba, with wristwatch for scale

 University of Parana, oil on card, 12 x 9.5 cm

 A tower, Curitiba, oil on card, 9.5 x 11 cm  - available

A residential area near the civic centre, Curitiba, oil on card, 10.9 x 9.5 cm

I spent the weekend in Curitiba, that strange capital of Parana, which seems to suggest a North American city I always think when I am there, this is what parts of Chicago or St Paul must be like, because of the city's grid plan, its Central and East European ethnic base and barbecue restaurants and pick up trucks to be seen parked here and there.

The city is mostly well maintained with less of the dilapidation, squalid unplanned housing and grafitti that blights other Brazillian capitals. However, in contrast to the extremely elegant modernism .that dominates the Civic area (including The Neimeyer Art mueum is excellent, with well curated shows, and pleasant Sunday atmosphere) parts of the town do have a definate seediness: especially towards the bus station. Also, there are also lot of people sleeping rough in the parks and squares.

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Of the pictures above, the block seems to represent a sort of breakthrough for me, breaching into a speedy strip cartoon style that such buildings merit, I think.

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A tall building in central Florianopolis

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A tall builiding in central Florianopolis, oil on card, 9. 4 x 12.5 cm - available

These modern buildings are much more difficult to paint than might appear.

Portrait of Tony Alana

Portrait of Tony Alano, oil on card, 9 x 12.2 cm

A little painting of my friend, Tony Alano, watching telenovelas.

Wall of a sports club with water tower and spotlights behind; The School of Paris

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Wall of a sports club with water tower and spotlights behind, oil on card, 13 x 9.2 cm  - available

Today's painting tries to do something with dry oil paint for texture: when I see crumbly oil paint I think of Utrillo, that almost forgotten School of Paris painter.

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I wonder how the School of Paris painters will be judged in generations to come- my feeling is that they will be judged rather harshly. I suggest this because I fear they will be regarded as mere picture-makers: criticised for not tackling more dramatic subject matter; for a parochialism, indeed.

My feeling is that modern tastes demand the extreme, the perverse, the discomfiting, and that the so-long fruitful dialogue between painting and furnishing- which underpins much School of Paris work, is even despised..

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I shall be going to Curitiba this weekend- I hope for good weather. There are often good exhibitions there.

Pelotas: a celebration in photos

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Pelotas is a fine place to spend a few days if you love architecture, specifically of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The place is in a reasonable state, with some buildings well resored. There is some of the usual Brazillian grafitti and negligence, but it isn't too bad, and it feels generally safe to wander about. The splendid Guarani Theatre (above) has fine sculptures.

The city is founded round a central square and grids deriving from it, on a sight slope.

 

The building of most obvious interest to foreigners, because of its unusualness for Brasil is the Anglican Church, (pictured above) one of three I saw in the Pelotas and Rio Grande and just over100 years old, and recently, rather nicely restored.  The custodian is very pleasant about showing one around. 

 

The central square contains a fountain and a monuments, including this relief celebrating Garribaldi, and an old fellow selling sweets. (below).

There is a rather grand central market featuring this unusual clock tower:

 

The city contains a large number of residential buildings, some in pretentious- or glorious -19th centrury eclectic styles, others are more modest but similarly containing charming details, art noveau or deco, or various combinations thereof:

 

 

 

 

Charming old paving tiles:

I stayed at the abominable Rex Hotel, which is very centrally located, dilapidated, run by sour-faced hags and a fine place for mosquito-hunting, if that is your bag.

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Well, that is a selection of pictures for you: there are many other buildings both modest and grand that I haven't shown.

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Here I am, an old man...

Here I am, an old man. Mostly bald, cantankerous and slightly weird. Potbellied, I wander mumbling incomprehensible complaints. I dress drably, except for a battered fedora which, erroneously, I imagine to be dashing. Everything I own is worn and has a greasy patina of sadness.

I walk about a neighbourhod which I ended up in through a series of well considered, joyless compromises made many years ago. I prefer architecture to people because it is silent. I live on toast, poached eggs and whisky. I have no friends, my social life long having been reduced to semi-formal exchanges with the postman. Sometimes I try to flrt with waitresses: a pitiful sight. Thus, for company, I aquired a dog which resembles a rat.

I have a long mental list of people and institutions I despise, ranging from the manager of the supermarket to the  US Secretary of State. I try to add to my list of grievances every day. I am considering disliking the postman, though as yet I have no specific reason to. I have no interest in other opinons than my own, unless they concur, or they provide me with fuel for my contempt.

Two Trees, February

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Two Trees, February, oil on card, 12.5 x 9.8 cm

I am quite happy with this one, which is very much in the John Crome mode, that British- Dutch tradition of muddy painting.