Author: Rebecca Odessa

Originally from New Zealand, I now live on the Isle of Man. I pretty much spend my life painting, wondering about things and travelling; not the most lucrative way to live, but I love it. I have a degree in Religious Studies and am a bit of an anorak when it comes to religion. I also love philosophy, history, psychology and, if my brain was bigger, I would surely love quantum physics too.

Ringless in Rome

Rome 2024

I only take my engagement ring off for two reasons – to slather goop in my hair to stop it looking boofy, and to massage. Sitting in Gatwick Airport, Rome-bound and ringless, rather than assigning its absence to one of these ring-removal activities, I deduced it must be in my backpack and rifled through it for 3 hours. Aside from the sickening feeling of losing something precious, I feared my fella would think I intended touring Rome as a single lady. But he reassured me that my ringless vibe was more spinster than single-lady, so he wasn’t worried at all. By the time I got to Rome, he’d found my ring (in my massage room) so all is right with the world again.

I have just woken on my first day in Rome to the happy singing of birds. To right they’re happy, they’re in Rome! I arrived late last night, so haven’t seen anything yet, aside from the whizz of lights from the taxi and splendor of the building I am staying in.

This fine establishment is the British School at Rome. I am here for a 4 day research look-around for an art project I’m working on. Typically, one comes to Rome to see the Colosseum and where the Pope lives, but I’m here to look at wells and bones and eat the food (which my fella prepared me for by taking me to M&S to buy some big pants for the trip)

later…

It’s now bedtime and I am utterly exhausted after Romeing all day, so long story free of waffle:

The communal school breakfast consisted of cream filled pastries (phew for the big pants!) washed down with divine coffee and great conversation with the other students, including my lengthy descriptions of the wells I am researching (they were so fascinated, Mathew!).

I went to see a well on Tiber Island, which is about 40mins away, but took me 4 hours cause I kept stopping off at the Bassicallcas (fancy for churches) on the way, including one that has a holy well, the water of which you can drink, which I did, and got the trots, and narrowly avoided disaster.

There was also a Basilica called Nicola something, that I had to go in because I have a lovely friend called Nicola. I am very glad I did because it had underground goings-on you could visit, which included a niche with bones.

I felt a bit misty-eyed when I made it to Tiber Island. The Tiber River is beautiful, as is the bridge I crossed, which is the oldest in Rome. I did think of taking the steps down to the river and have a little wander along the toe-path, but a massage client warned me that nefarious types hang out by the river, and sure enough there was a group of scruffy-looking people hanging out down there, though whether they were nefarious or not I couldn’t say.

On the Island, I visited a Bassicallca that was built on the site of the Temple of Asclepius (the god of healing), a place where you’d go to be healed by dogs licks, chicken sacrifice, and sleeping in a snake-filled room order to dream of your cure. The Basilica houses a well that was once fed by an underground spring that was around in the time of the temple.

I then went to the old Jewish quarter and had a lunch of wine and pepper pasta, which, though delicious, I came to regret when the trot situation loomed. But I ate it all in ignorant bliss and amused myself by reading about wells.

I then visited the Great Synagogue (phenomenal!) and museum, and was going to have a leisurely walk back to school, stopping for coffee and cake along the way, but it soon became clear that wells and bones and the Great Synagogue would be the least memorable things about my first day in Rome if I didn’t get back lickety-split. Getting terribly lost added to by woes, but the 5 different strangers I asked for directions, meant I returned with my dignity intact.

Exhausted by my shenanigans, I lay down for a bit, then tarted myself up (aka put anti-boof cream in my hair) and went to a lecture the school was hosting. Oh and it was no ordinary lecture! The guest speaker was Mark Rothko’s son. It was fascinating and touching in equal measure.

Then there was a big communal dinner, with amazing food, great company, and plenty of talk about wells.

Over hills and dales

CSM MFA - Progress Blog, Holidays, Week in Review

For my birthday, my fella took me to the Yorkshire Dales. We stayed in a beautiful hotel on the Bolton Abbey Estate, a place I chose because it is near the Strid, which is relevant to a future painting I have in mind.

This wasn’t our hotel but the remains of Bolton Abbey

The Strid is a section of the River Wharfe which is considered the most dangerous stretch of river in the world. It is said to have a 100% fatality rate for those poor souls who end up in it. It is also said to have earned its name from those with a fancy for daredevilry who attempt to leap or “stride” across its banks.

Such striding is possible because, despite the majority of the River Wharfe being 30ft wide, the Strid is a narrow 6ft channel of limestone rock that forces the mighty Wharfe through its stridable gap. Water prefers to stick together and go down, so instead of carving a wide expanse through the limestone, the waters of the Wharfe have carved out a crevasse to a possible depth of 60ft. As the water plummets and churns its way through the Strid, trillions of air bubbles strip away lifesaving buoyancy and cause a tumult so vicious that no tender-skinned, air-breathing creature that breaches its surface can survive.

There are numerous stories of people who have come-a-cropper in the Strid. The most famous being that of William de Romilly whose devouring by the Strid was immortalised by William Wordsworth.

This striding-place is called THE STRID,
A name which it took of yore:
A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.
And hither is young Romilly come,
And what may now forbid
That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across THE STRID?
He sprang in glee,–for what cared he
That the river was strong, and the rocks were steep?–
But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And checked him in his leap.
The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by a merciless force;
For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless corpse.

The Strid is terrifying, and approaching it with your wits and the will to live is imperative. My fella and I paid two visits to this kelpie’s abode, and I have say I was mighty pleased when we left. It is a truly ominous place and seeing it will likely be one of those experiences I will never forget.

Another fascinating place we visited was Ingleborough cave. I’d never been in a cave before, so I was completely wowed by the experience. What a fascinating place. The cave, once solid rock, was carved out by water, which eventually found a different route through the limestone, allowing human navigation through the cave. I found being inside it truly inspiring, and will definitely investigate the phenomena of caves further.

We also visited was the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. It’s a massive area, and took us quite a while to walk around. To amuse ourselves we had competition to name the sculptures, from which my fella rose triumphant with this pearler: “Harea 51”.

The rest of our trip was mostly spent tootling around the Yorkshire Dales, stopping wherever took our fancy. It is indiscernibly beautiful, and being very lucky with the weather, we were able to see it to its best advantage.

Beep Beep!!

CSM MFA - Progress Blog, Week in Review

I am very happy to report that I am now a newly minted driver. My test was utterly terrifying, but all my lessons must have paid off, cause I passed! Since then, I have been tootling around the countryside singing to Elton John (the only cd I can find).

For my first solo outing, I went to Bride village, initially with the intention of visiting a spooky well. I’m not sure what happened there, but it always gives me the heebie-jeebies when I pass it, so I thought I’d go and have a good look. Unfortunately, it was pouring with rain, so, not wanting to get wet as well as hebbie-jebbied, I decided to go to Bride Tearooms instead.

As well as passing the time eating cake and reading about hares, I took the opportunity to write out the postcards for the members of the artist collective I belong too. The collective is made up of alumni from a residency we all did at the New York School of Visual Art. We decided to send each other artwork postcards that we will then exhibit in our respective locations. I thought I might exhibit the ones I receive at my Open Studio during the Isle of Man Art Festival in September.

Speaking of the Art Festival, the group that organises it recently had an exhibition at the Manx Museum, in which I showed a collage and a painting. As part of the promotion for the exhibition, Manx National Heritage commissioned a series of videos of some of the participating artists, of which I was one. Here is my video. You will note the camera (read: Lindt chocolate balls) adds 10lbs.

The exhibition has now finished, and as I sold neither of my pieces, we had to go and collect them. As the painting is rather a biggin, my fella tried to hire the huge van, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t any available. Never fear, my fella’s Pa (aka Special Projects Manager) fashioned a transporting frame which he tied to Dorris (his trusty Freelander) and hey presto, we got the painting home in one piece!

Haring and thereing

CSM MFA - Progress Blog, Painting, Research Project, Week in Review

On Saturday evening, my fella and I went hare shooting, of the photographic variety. We knew exactly where to go, as we’d often spotted hares there as we were driving past. Sure enough, almost as soon as we got out of the car we started seeing hares, and to our great delight we also saw some boxing, as they are apt to do in March. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get very close before they sniffed us out and ran away. Luckily, my fella’s camera is a good’n, so he was able to get these lovely shots (as well as the money-shot above).

Speaking of lagomorphs, yesterday we found a distressed bunny on the side of the road who was ridden with myxomatosis. We moved him somewhere more comfortable and let nature take its course, which mercifully didn’t take long. We left him to have one last night under the stars and then gave him a good send off today.

Along with all my hare-fancying and rabbit-burying, I have been painting Manx cats. According to local folklore, Manx cats, which are unique to the Isle of Man, came about due to the mating of a hare and a cat, which is said to be evident in their no or stumpy tails and elongated legs, which gives them a hoppity gait. I think they’ll be a good addition to the paintings, as they, like hares, also suffer from bone/joint related aliments. Plus, who doesn’t like the odd cat in a painting.

You can never have too many books about hares!

CSM MFA - Progress Blog, Research Project, Week in Review

I am a fiend when it comes to buying books on subjects I love. Hares are no exception. I now have four and counting. As of this morning it would be five, as I came across a wonderful lecture about the Three Hares motif, and when I discovered that the lecturer had written a book on the subject, I thought it would be perfect for my collection. But alas, the book is now out of print and remaining copies are upwards of £140. 00. I like a hare book as much as the next lagamorphile, but that’s beyond extravagant. Thankfully there is a great website all about about the book, and even a form you can fill out if you’d like a copy of the book, so they can gage interest for a possible 2nd printing.

The Three Hares motif is very interesting and shows up in many places around the world, including a heap of churches in Devon, Synagogues in Europe, caves in China, and on various object in Iran. No one really knows what the motif means, but as with hares in general, is thought to be associated with magic, the moon, and femininity.

I am still painting hares, as well as bones and lace, and am still trying to figure out the confluence between the 3 motifs and the degree realism I want etc. Progress is slow, but I am enjoying the process.

I am also working on a painting made up of different sections, that when all put together will make one big painting. Its conception and composition is very similar to the big canvas painting I had to abandon. For some reason, painting separate sections makes it a lot easier to keep a handle on things. Also, this one is on paper, which is better than canvas for this kind of painting. Here is one of the sections I have been working on: