Hospital Murals in Milan

August 26, 2009

I have just returned from the hospital, Ospedale dei Bambini di Buzzi, in Milan, and I am pretty exhausted. For your background information, I started a mural project in this Children’s hospital in February; however with all of the preparation, presentation of the project and sketches, and delays on their part, I could only enter to get “down and dirty” two weeks before my departure for the US. It started out as a much smaller idea for a volunteer project in Milan, but in the end, my exuberant contact, Giorgio, offered me the liberties to a whole wing (currently under construction) at the hospital. This was all very considerate, but I am only one person!! Also, I can’t afford to devote a huge amount of time to a project that is not paying me! In any case, I convinced some friends of mine from the art school I am attending in Milan, NABA, to help me out in realizing this project. For the most part, my friend Massimigliano is the next greatest contributor. He has created amazing graphic designs to accompany my murals and to help diminish the space for my labor--they will be stamped on a very nice cortex material and hung as added decoration. In the hallway, his designs will function as frames for my murals, and they should provide horizontal and peaceful rhythm to my detailed and lively scenes. In the waiting room, his work will be the primary design, and my job is to create a light background in paint.

Subject matter: Basically the theme is “Alice in Wonderland” or “Honey I Shrunk the Kids.” In the waiting room, Massimigliano has designed huge magical trees that are larger than life but at relatively normal human measurements—one tree has a “hole” in it with a small ladder hanging from it. In the hallway, all of my murals are larger than life—with large mushrooms, grass, flowers, little animals, etc—and the idea is to give the children the feeling that they are transitioning into a new world when they enter the hallway from the waiting room. I will show you pictures of the murals when they are done—which will give you a much better idea.

It was pretty hard to motivate myself this morning to take the 45 minute tram ride to the hospital in order to commence a day long painting session. I didn’t feel rested this morning, but I knew that I had to dive back into the mural painting project. If they were paying me, I would probably take a more leisurely approach to my crap load of murals; as it stands now, they have offered to pay for my flight back to Italy, which would be the amount of money I would ask for maybe a half of one of the many murals I am painting. The murals are virtually the only solid reason I had to return to Italy, and for this reason and I am sure out of appreciation, they offered to cover my flight. Giorgio is the guy representing the hospital in the project, and I will refer to him when talking about the Buzzi murals. He is a great guy, and in my opinion, he is very a-typically Italian because he is organized and is a progressive worker. When he is here in Milan, we grab lunch together on the days that I’m working in the neurology wing.

I always have visitors that stop by and watch me as I am painting. Sometimes doctors and nurses will come up to the third floor to have a peek at my work, but mostly all of the technicians and laborers finishing up the construction of the new wing of neurology stop by. These are all trade men—your usual and friendly plaster guy, electrician, ventilation team, plumbers, builders etc—I honestly can’t even think of what all of their titles would be in English let alone Italian. Anyways, they are always really nice, and I catch most guys hanging around me painting instead of doing their work. The one day before I returned to the US, I inquired about one man’s music preferences. I proceeded to play his favorite artist, Vasco Rossi, on my computer, and he and the work team that day were singing at the top of their lungs. It was hilarious.

Today two ventilation or air conditioning workers stopped buy, and they probably distracted me for thirty minutes with conversation. They were nice guys, and the one recounted how his teacher always told him that he was creative. They were huge fans of American movies and actors, and we got into a conversation about Italian film dubbers. One observance that I have made is that Italians are very proud of their voice dubbing actors, and many claim that they prefer some of their actors’ voices rather than the real American original. Some have never heard the movies in English, and others just have become used to their own vocal stars. However, this is not saying that I would not believe them; despite always being thrown off by someone else’s voice with familiar stars, I was personally was very amazed how Leonardo Dicaprio’s dub man, for example, sounded very similar to the tone of his actual voice.

They love the man who interprets Eddie Murphy, and most people claim that he is funnier. In fact, as I explained to the ventilation workers, they probably do not understand the relevance of Eddie’s clear cultural humor, the language he employs, or his racial identity that attributes to his humor. Many of the cultural nuances would be lost for an Italian audience, and an Italian dubber would have to make jokes more relative to their cultural jokes, expressions, and mannerisms. Ferruccio Amendola is a very famous and beloved actor and dubber that became famous with his portrayal of Al Pacino, Sylvester Stallone, Dustin Hoffman, Robert De Niro, Christopher Lloyd, and Thomas Milian in movies. Do you find it curious that the same man spoke for all of those important actors? I wonder if the repetition of his voice became confusing or if the different faces succeeded in not detracting from the film? Amendola died in 2001, and another praised Italian actor has filled in his usual vocal roles, Giancarlo Giannini. It is very interesting to hear their pride in their dubbers, and the two workers made fun of how awful French and German movies sounded in comparison.

It is pertinent to say that these men were by far not the most worldly in Milan, and their main perception of the United States and its major cities comes from their quasi-religious devotion to the film industry. The one guy remarked that he was excited to talk to me because I was the first American girl with which he has ever spoken.

As I was talking to these men, I notice how much pride they take in their work when they talk about their responsibilities. Due to the complicated and stagnant job market, many Italians find themselves accepting jobs way below their degree levels if they desire to remain in the country. Those that do not go to college are in certain cases not much worse off in the long run. It was refreshing to hear these two talk about the range of jobs that they undertake; while I would never belittle the knowledge and skill it takes to operate their positions, I did find it funny that they explained with humorous pride that they are the guys that crawl around in ventilation systems. They were really nice guys, and they complimented my murals.

I don’t know what I do when I speak to people, but I really can’t understand how a 45 year old Italian ventilation man would have the balls to ask me out. As soon as he found out that I didn’t have a boyfriend (he totally caught me off guard!!), he started talking about how he would like a portrait of himself, he could cook me dinner, or we could go out for drinks sometime soon. I don’t get it! I am respectful and reasonably friendly to everyone I meet—I don’t know how he is usually treated by Italian women, but maybe it is my demeanor that makes them think of making advances. Blah—it started out like a “You do portraits? I would like a portrait…”,and it progressed into my cornered zone. Unbelievable. He was very nice and retrieved a ladder for my high-reaching painting, but I really have to practice saying, “Yes, I have a boyfriend!”

My last divergent topic is that I have found that there are a lot of single older men over here. Maybe I am not well-seasoned in the American system yet, but there seems to be a predominance of Italian guys, maybe those who lived at home with their mommy’s until the age of thirty (maybe more), that are well matured and have not married. This can be attributed to Italian culture as they do tend to be more relaxed about the time frame of study or goals; however it can also probably be attributed to the lack of opportunities for fair career pursuit and competition that promises laddering climbs or even the feasibility of an independent life style due to the lack of jobs. In addition, not all Italian men are hot “Casanovas” ready to sweep women of their feet into drooling frenzies. Despite the cold front that Italian women can blow frequently towards their men—whether by seeing through his attempts or due to lack of attraction—it doesn’t account for all of the wandering and aging Italian bachelors.

Along with the hot studs also come some poor exaggerated-feature tragedies. You might be surprised, but many men are not aggressive, and they have absolutely no game whatsoever in pursuing women. In my opinion, Italian men are like wine and they get better with age, a striking majority end up being very hot into even their 50’s. I am not saying that I am attracted to 50 year old men, but I will say that I have spied many dashing older studs. The appeal of older men in Italy would probably be their greater offer of a stabilized and independent lifestyle. Comparative to the opportunities for American college-graduates and their fast achievement of autonomy, the Italian boys seem to progress ever so slowly--which we can’t hold them entirely accountable--and they seem wet behind the ears to a girl who has American friends holding down big jobs.

In any case, I will conclude with writing today one thing that bothers me about Italian men. When they get into conversations with their male friends, it happens at times that they don’t even introduce their female companions. I feel like sometimes they view the girls as their precious trophies instead of counterparts. This may sound feminist, but it is just a feeling that I have gotten on more than a few occasions that bugs me. It also bugs me that the girls seem to accept it, batting their eyes or looking away disinterested or distracted. This is just an observation that I picked up.