Daydreaming.
Reminding you how daydreaming while walking got me knocked out.
This is an apologia, a formal defense of my behavior.

We grew up in one of the world’s most congested neighborhoods.
The tiny North End of Boston in the 1950s and ‘60s was home to 2,500 grammar school children among a population of some 40,000 people.
Who lived in tiny apartments.
In the safest neighborhood in the city.
Which encouraged mothers to freely allow the youngest of children to ‘go out.’
Crowd the outdoors, the apartments too small.

But where?
Four playgrounds?
One park?
Pathetic.
We lacked space of any kind for recreation of any kind.

But we had sidewalks.
But the sidewalks were crowded with mothers with strollers, with old ladies, with older teenagers and young adults, with people who were not kids.
Not much to do on such a place; such places.

But we had streets.
Lots of streets.
No people except to pass across.
Few cars in those days, especially in the North End.

Inevitable.
That we gravitate there and take possession.
Set up games of Scatter or Relievio or Kick the Can.
And protect our turf.
A car driving through our game got yelled at or abused or kicked, unless it was a Cadillac with Rhode Island plates.
Then, without a word of protest, we cleared a path, looked away, and waited patiently for the car to pass.

Nicky La Rosa, one of my closest childhood friends, and a regular dinner companion, reminded me.
I daydream in the streets because from our experience streets are not dangerous.
We grew up owning them
An attitude I hope to disown before I am again rudely reminded that it just ain’t so anymore.

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Tagging Today
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
My 237th consecutive posting, committed to 5,000.
Time is 12.01am.
Boston’s temperature will reach a high of 35* with a feels like of 27* with sun and clouds.
Similar to yesterday.

Dinner is Roast Pheasant.

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Question of the Day:
What is the Birth of Venus?

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Short Takes:
Note that I’m adding another item to our Always on Hand page:
Box of Dry waxed patty paper. I use ‘Weston,’ 1000 sheets.
Found it on Amazon.
My favorite use is when I cut in half three breakfast muffins to store in the freezer.
I shove the paper between the muffin halves so they won’t stick together.
But lots of other uses, too. bacon slices.

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Love your notes.
Contact me @ domcapossela@hotmail.com

Here’s one from Marc Oliviere:

Hi Dom,  
Happy to hear there’re no lasting injuries from your accident.  

I was fascinated with your piece about Simonetta Vespucci.

I experienced a affection/admiration for a model of the Pre-Ralaelite period that came much later, Fanny Cornfirth, nee, Sarah Cox, an uneducated daughter of a coal miner. 
She was a much painted, much admired model, as well the longtime lover of the artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, for whom she also served as his housekeeper following the death of both their spouses.   

I’m sure you’ll see the likeness, though the pictures really don’t due justice to the actual painting some of which I was fortunate to have gazed upon at a Pre-Ralphaelite exhibit at the Delaware Art Museum some ten year ago.

Web Meister Responds: She is a stunner.
Thanks for sharing, Marc.

Above are the photos Marc sent, of Fanny Cornfirth.
So much to learn.

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Answer to Question:
What is the Birth of Venus.

The Birth of Venus is a painting by the Italian artist Sandro Botticelli probably made in the mid 1480s.
It depicts the goddess Venus arriving at the shore after her birth, when she had emerged from the sea fully-grown (called Venus Anadyomene and often depicted in art).
The painting is in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.

Although the two are not a pair, the painting is inevitably discussed with Botticelli's other very large mythological painting, the Primavera, also in the Uffizi.
They are among the most famous paintings in the world, and icons of the Italian Renaissance; of the two, the Birth is even better known than the Primavera.

As depictions of subjects from classical mythology on a very large scale they were virtually unprecedented in Western art since classical antiquity, as was the size and prominence of a nude female figure in the Birth.
It used to be thought that they were both commissioned by the same member of the Medici family, but this is now uncertain.

They have been endlessly analyzed by art historians, with the main themes being: the emulation of ancient painters and the context of wedding celebrations (generally agreed), the influence of Renaissance Neo-Platonism (somewhat controversial), and the identity of the commissioners (not agreed).
Most art historians agree, however, that the Birth does not require complex analysis to decode its meaning, in the way that the Primavera probably does.
While there are subtleties in the painting, its main meaning is a straightforward, if individual, treatment of a traditional scene from Greek mythology, and its appeal is sensory and very accessible, hence its enormous popularity.

In the centre the newly-born goddess Venus stands nude in a giant scallop shell.
Its size is purely imaginary, and is also found in classical depictions of the subject.
At the left the wind god Zephyr blows at her, with the wind shown by lines radiating from his mouth.
He is in the air, and carries a young female, who is also blowing, but less forcefully.
Both have wings.
Vasari was probably correct in identifying her as "Aura", personification of a lighter breeze.
Their joint efforts are blowing Venus towards the shore, and blowing the hair and clothes of the other figures to the right.

At the right a female figure who may be floating slightly above the ground holds out a rich cloak or dress to cover Venus when she reaches the shore, as she is about to do.
She is one of the three Horae or Hours, Greek minor goddesses of the seasons and of other divisions of time, and attendants of Venus.
The floral decoration of her dress suggests she is the Hora of Spring.

Alternative identifications for the two secondary female figures involve those also found in the Primavera; the nymph held by Zephyr may be Chloris, a flower nymph he married in some versions of her story, and the figure on land may be Flora.
Flora is generally the Roman equivalent of the Greek Chloris; in the Primavera Chloris is transformed into the figure of Flora next to her, following Ovid's Fasti, but it is hard to see that such a transformation is envisaged here.
However, the roses blown along with the two flying figures would be appropriate for Chloris.

The subject is not strictly the "Birth of Venus", a title only given the painting in the nineteenth century (though given as the subject by Vasari), but the next scene in her story, where she arrives on land, blown by the wind.
The land probably represents either Cythera or Cyprus, both Mediterranean islands regarded by the Greeks as territories of Venus.

Primavera is a large panel painting in tempera paint by the Italian Renaissance painter Sandro Botticelli made in the late 1470s or early 1480s (datings vary).
It has been described as "one of the most written about, and most controversial paintings in the world", and also "one of the most popular paintings in Western art".

The painting depicts a group of figures from classical mythology in a garden, but no story has been found that brings this particular group together.
Most critics agree that the painting is an allegory based on the lush growth of Spring, but accounts of any precise meaning vary, though many involve the Renaissance Neoplatonism which then fascinated intellectual circles in Florence.
The subject was first described as Primavera by the art historian Giorgio Vasari who saw it at Villa Castello, just outside Florence, by 1550.

Although the two are now known not to be a pair, the painting is inevitably discussed with Botticelli's other very large mythological painting, The Birth of Venus, also in the Uffizi.
They are among the most famous paintings in the world, and icons of the Italian Renaissance; of the two, the Birth is even better known than the Primavera.
As depictions of subjects from classical mythology on a very large scale they were virtually unprecedented in Western art since classical antiquity.
It used to be thought that they were both commissioned by the same member of the Medici family, but this is now uncertain.

The history of the painting is not certainly known, though it seems to have been commissioned by one of the Medici family.
It draws from a number of classical and Renaissance literary sources, including the works of the Ancient Roman poet Ovid and, less certainly, Lucretius, and may also allude to a poem by Poliziano, the Medici house poet who may have helped Botticelli devise the composition.
Since 1919 the painting has been part of the collection of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.

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Good morning on this Wednesday, December 5, Christmas now 20 days away.
We talked about daydreaming and owning the streets.We added hamburger sheets to our Always on Hand recipe page. We got a nice piece from Marc that fitted in very well, introducing us to the lovely Fanny Confirth. And finally we talked about Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus.

Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?

See you soon.

Love

Dom