Today we walked around the moat and through the grounds of the Sforza Castle and visited a great design gallery called La Triennale.
We went to see an exhibition about Aldo Coppola – an artist – an Italian hairdresser but more than that of course – an icon himself – he created fashions, hair and looks. This was a quintessential Milanese exhibition. Coppola worked together with some of the most famous faces and photographers of our time and what a time! This exhibition is extraordinary. It is in one way a photographic exhibition but in another way a book about hair and passion. Almost womb-like in its presentation with loud swelling uplifting music. It appealed to the senses. I wondered though who designed the actual exhibition, who had the images transplanted onto fabric that was then wound in two long tunnels of light and movement. Who designed and constructed the exhibition on hair design. I think that the name of the curator should be on the bill too because this was a feast.
When we emerged from the darkened and beautiful space I felt proud to be a woman. The eyes of these women were alive and vivacious.
There were other attractions in the gallery too – and many, many children. This little boy was sitting at the base of the grand marble staircase singing to himself.
The castle was built in the 15th century by Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan. But I did not feel like braving the Sunday crowds.
So we sauntered around it instead, calling to the cats (they ignored us as we were not official cat-ladies) and swapping stories as you do. This castle is a fortress, not pretty like some other castles. From the exterior it is forbidding.
On the way home I watched the light fade into the windows of Milan.
Oh and compare the above apartment building with the featured image of the fortress castle (below). There are similarities.
All they both need is a bristle of bows strung with arrows showing through the holes.
This city that must be discovered. It does not wear its heart on its sleeve, you must put on its coat to smell the real scent of Milan. You have to get very, very close.
Tomorrow I will hand you over to my next two guest writers. I will wend my weary and very satisfied way home and next time we speak (if all goes well) I will be back on the farm where John and all the animals eagerly await my arrival.
Travel feeds my soul as surely as the prairies do. And I actually need both to survive.
See you soon