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| Hermitage Staircase |
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| Ceiling in the Hermitage |
I like to be part of her adventures.
I had no idea of how large the European collection of art in the Hermitage is, and for that matter, I had no idea of what the Hermitage represents.
Rather than beat myself up too much about knowing so little about where I was going, I decided to ride on the wings of every historical movie I have seen about Russian or novel I have read, and trust that I could remember some of what I learned in that overview of European history what I had not enjoyed that much, 50 years ago.
“What is the wage of those women make who were standing in every room in the Hermitage?”, Wyona asked?
“A good wage. They work 2 days on and 2 days off all month for $150 for the month,” said the guide.
The women who sit in each room have a job -- to keep the crowd from stopping too long in any room.
I was reminded of being on a moving sidewalk in front of the crown jewels – the sidewalk kept anyone in the crowd from standing and observing the jewels.
The same thing was happening here.
Hoards of people walk through the hermitage and for us the rule was “look straight ahead and keep walking or you (the group) will never get out of the building”.
I was reminded of being on a moving sidewalk in front of the crown jewels – the sidewalk kept anyone in the crowd from standing and observing the jewels.
The same thing was happening here.
Hoards of people walk through the hermitage and for us the rule was “look straight ahead and keep walking or you (the group) will never get out of the building”.
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| Arched Hallway in the Hermitage |
One coffee table book on Russia is not enough.
The question in Russia was … which of the books in the Hermitage gift shop to buy, given that I only have 15 pounds of extra luggage space to work with.
I was trying to calm an anxiety I felt as I walked through the rooms of the Hermitage, glimpsing the breadeth of the history I have no knowledge of, seing the opulence and splendor that eventually brought along the peasant Russian revolution.
“Which book are you going to buy, Arta?” asked Wyona.
I reached for the biggest hardbacked volume, measuring by weight and size. That made the walk through the rest of the rooms easier, knowing I could study that volume later in the year – when I eat lunch alone or before I go to bed at night.
The question in Russia was … which of the books in the Hermitage gift shop to buy, given that I only have 15 pounds of extra luggage space to work with.
I was trying to calm an anxiety I felt as I walked through the rooms of the Hermitage, glimpsing the breadeth of the history I have no knowledge of, seing the opulence and splendor that eventually brought along the peasant Russian revolution.
“Which book are you going to buy, Arta?” asked Wyona.
I reached for the biggest hardbacked volume, measuring by weight and size. That made the walk through the rest of the rooms easier, knowing I could study that volume later in the year – when I eat lunch alone or before I go to bed at night.
I choose Saint Petersburg: History of Architecture, Pushkin’s Fairy Tales and The Hermitage: The History of the Building and Collections.
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| Rembrandt's Flora in the Hermitage |
That is a long way to come from thinking only a week ago, that the Hermitage was a monastery.
Arta
What a breathtakingly beautiful building! Is Flora pregnant in the image above. Does she have a cigar in her right hand. I must go read about that painting. Thank you for the virtual guided tour of the Hermitage.
ReplyDeleteDear Flora, Roman Goddess of Spring and Flowers, or should I say Saskia? My apologies for besmirching your name 9 years ago when I enquired as to whether you were holding a cigar while pregnant. Upon doing some research, I learned that you are carrying a staff if flowers and leaves. How could I have thought otherwise? Humbly, Bonnie, the Salmon Arm Goddess of Blog Comments (and as you probably guessed, that I not a staff I would but rather a smart phone.)
ReplyDeleteOh, this was the post for which I meant to respond with my own post (that I can't remember what it was going to be about before it became the non-post draft with a link in it) titled, "Thoughts on writing, editing, being stuck in a loops, and freedom." I wrote a comment about that in the comment section of a different post that I got to by cutting and pasting the link to this post incorrectly ....
ReplyDeleteargh.
And now I am humbled, and no longer want to argue that I an only do good writing in the comment section rather than in a post because I get stuck in editorial loops.
I am humbled because now there are some comments I want to go back and edit, but can't because, well, they can only be posted or deleted. And as Arta and I discussed, a deleted comment still has the authors name along with a note that the owner of the blog deleted the comment ... which makes the deleted comment appear to have been some nefarious act, and who wants that attached to their electronic foot print?
One of the edits I would do would be on the comment dated by the "old me" on April 20, 2020 at 4:16pm so that it read:
Dear Flora, Roman Goddess of Spring and Flowers, or should I say Saskia?
My apologies for besmirching your name 9 years ago when I enquired as to whether you were holding a cigar while pregnant.
Upon doing some research, I learned that you are carrying a staff [of] flowers and leaves.
How could I have thought otherwise?
Humbly,
Bonnie, the Salmon Arm Goddess of Blog Comments [(and what I carry, as you may have guessed, is not a staff but rather a smart phone.)]"
Now that I have edited it, I can see it felt much more clever and authentic on the first draft, even though I am bothered by the typo of "if flowers" rather than "of flowers."
Also, my smart phone is experiencing technical problems, so it is no longer the primary thing I carry, nor my primary tool for posting comments, so that last line seems rather cryptic and not so clever, written for an audience of one, me, myself, and I and I see that rather than writing about writing loops, I have stumbled into doing an show and and tell instead.
Ah, but perhaps the problem is I am now speaking to that fictional reader that is only ever actualized in the form of the viscous, cruel reader I reserve for myself when feeling anxious about others reading my writing.
So, I close with a note to Flora.
Flora, beloved goddess of spring and flowers, it has been six weeks since I sought your forgiveness for my 2011 comment about your behaviour and it's impact on the prenatal environment of your child. I see evidence that you have been busy, everything is in bloom here. As I reflect on my earlier jab, I wonder, how are you balancing being a full time seasonal worker with being a year round parent? Perhaps you feel you need a cigar every now and then and who am I to judge. I read in the Bow Valley Ward newsletter article recently a line that resonated with me. Erva Sherwood wrote, "Women's lives take them in so many different directions and the last thing to
do is to apply pressure to anyone’s life."
Respectfully,
Bonnie, the sporatic gardener