#130 The power of observation

Details from Sicily

Oct 20, 2024

Hello friend,

I use my camera like I’d use a notebook. I record little details and notes, things I’ve noticed or want to remember for later. I photograph small things that catch my eye, a particular design or pattern that seems unusual to me. It could be a specific texture or how the sunlight hits a tree and makes a certain shape. I take photos of things I’ve not noticed before.

Photography helps me to be more observant. You obviously cannot photograph everything, so you need to be decisive. I only pick what speaks to me, and Sicily has loads to say to me.

I began to appreciate small-town Sicily even more throughout the Covid pandemic, going in and out of lockdown into semi-lockdown, from red to yellow, to orange and back again.

Living through the time of COVID-19 taught me the valuable lesson to appreciate the small things, breathe, be and exist in the moment while being grateful for what I have in front of me, and experience everything with each of the five senses. Above all, who I am, what I see, and where I am now are essential.

Every time I return to Sicily after spending some time home in Australia, I have another level of appreciation for Italy. Certain times of the day create a special kind of sunlight, and the landscape and cityscape offer textures and sounds that only exist in this part of the world.

Being away makes you forget the subtle things. The same can be said when I go back to Australia after a while in Sicily; there is so much that I forget.

My daily routine and habits back here in Italy make me forget so much about Australia, and when I am there, it suddenly all comes back to me. Perhaps I’ll write more about this strange kind of amnesia and memory recovery that I undergo when I return to a place I’ve been away from.

Honestly, I sometimes feel like I have the memory of a goldfish, but it’s amazing what you can get used to when you effortlessly adjust to the habits and realities of different places. It turns out I have become quite the seamless chameleon, shifting and changing between Australia and Italy and vice versa.

It’s an enormous honour and pleasure to know two places so intimately. I feel like a polyglot who seems to floe from one language to the next. It makes me eager to learn more places with such intensity.

Sicily is such a beautifully textured place. Many layers of history have been built, one on top of the other, leaving spaces and gaps where you can see the remnants of many different stories. These fragments are intriguing as they lead you towards many histories, many stories, and endless possibilities.

Each place has its own style, from the colour of the paint to the stones used to construct buildings to the stoic or elaborate Sicilian Baroque.

The colours can vary from thick grey lava stone to whitewashed sandy limestone to the white of the stone homes of the smaller islands that surround this island. The townscapes range from grey, stark block-shaped houses and cobblestone streets to the apex of high Baroque with flourishing vines, grotesque statues and cherubs floating up the walls. There are so many curiosities and artistry that can only exist in Sicily.

Detail of the Teatro Massimo, Palermo © Rochelle Del Borrello 2024

I’m obsessed with the textures of the buildings in Sicily; the materials used to build churches and palazzi around the island are like variegated hues from the same Sicilian colour palette.

When playing with my new toy, an iPad, I use the colour sampling function to take the colours from my photos and use them in my sketches. I have a whole heap of greys, yellows, greens, blues and deep reds on a colour collection I simply call Sicily.

I’m not an artist, but I can happily spend a few hours every once in a while drawing or collaging on my iPad. It’s been a satisfying discovery, reconnecting with my old habit of doodling in a notebook. Digital design is excellent; you have all the materials and limitless possibilities.

Digital artwork © Rochelle Del Borrello 2024

A few years ago, I read an article about a pagan god called the green man, who was very much a symbol of nature and whose image is still very much used in modern design. Some fresh produce companies use him in their packaging. The character is embodied in folklore and mythology as a mischievous character who represents the fertility of the natural world. Think like Shakespeare's Puck or Oberon, leprechauns, or Pan from Greek mythology.

The exciting thing is that most churches use the image of the green man in their embellishments. It served as a subtle symbol to the early Christians of their pagan beliefs. I have found the Green Man near the front entrance of churches in Sicily. Just as the article suggested, he welcomes people in and reminds them of his presence, even though most people have forgotten about him today. I look out for him in every church in Sicily.

Chiesa San Michele Archangelo, Sinagra (ME) © Rochelle Del Borrello 2024

You must always expect the unexpected while visiting Sicily. Things tend to get delayed, not go the way you plan, or take an impossibly long time. I always say to anyone planning a visit, always allow plenty of time when you visit for the astonishing, and also, you need to allow Sicily to surprise you.

The one thing I love about Sicily is its ability to amaze me. I’ve lived here for over two decades, and every day reveals new things. The best way to become enthralled with Sicily is to walk around the side streets of the main cities, turn to a corner, and find an open courtyard.

Municipio, Messina © Rochelle Del Borrello 2024

I remember going into the magnificent town hall at Messina; I’d been there dozens of times, and its impressive marble staircase and robust decorations were familiar. But ambling into a newly opened cafe on the second floor, I turned into a previously closed wing of the palazzo. In front of the cafe, I saw a whole new conference room with a photographic exhibition dedicated to the history of Messina. So, after sipping a quick espresso while standing at the bar, I looked at the free exhibition.

At the centre of the room, there was an enormous mirror that took up most of the front wall. It was framed in an elaborate golden baroque frame with endless vines, fruits, baskets, hunting horns, and general bounties of nature. Of course, I thought of the Green Man and tried to find his laughing face amongst the fertility.

I couldn’t see him anywhere, but a mysterious coat of arms was at the apex of the frame. The heraldic symbols included a winged Pegasus horse flying over a body of water, probably the sea, a giant snake, the sun and a constellation of stars. I had no idea of the meaning or origins.

On either side of the family coat of arms, two of the most bizarre-looking cherubs were seductively leaning up against the shield. The artwork was a grotesque joke; perhaps these cherubs were like dwarf Renaissance court jesters playing an improvised little farce for the green man.

It was only Sicily amazing me yet again for the umpteenth time.