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This is the blog of Steve Burkett of Italy, Our Italy

Securing Your Haven

[Note: This article has two parts: the usual transforming the snapshot part, and a part about this doors mysterious and flabbergasting security]

“Formidable is the word for this green door with its complex locking mechanism. Maybe this old timer was the home of someone with a lot to protect, like a Venetian jeweler.”

I have an affinity for old, Italian doors. That affinity is somewhere between I-think-they-are-swell and I-have-an-old-door-fetish.

I am captivated by their historical significance. Like, for the door below: who lived beyond that entrance? How many lifetimes were experienced here?

What was their profession? How large was the family? What was their fate? Did they help to shape the fate of Italy? Or were they maybe early-day couch potatoes just whiling away the day doing nothing?

Whatever happened behind those closed doors, it happened a long time ago, and over many, many years.

And these particular doors? Formidable is the word for this green door with its complex locking mechanism. Maybe this old timer was the home of someone with a lot to protect, like a Venetian jeweler.

And regarding its level of security, I was flabbergasted! So don’t miss the ‘Extra-Added Bonus’ at the end of this article.

The Door Transformation

When I took the original snapshot to the left, I made a big mistake. That mistake was in my framing of the original shot and my unwittingly not accounting for a more robust aspect ratio for later printing. What I mean is that if I wanted an 8x10 print, and if I cropped down from the top to the spot I wanted so that I could eliminate uninteresting space above the door, I would have white or blank space to the left and right of the door.

To avoid this problem, I usually try to back away from the subject of my photo to capture more than I think I will need. Using a Nikon D800 with its 36mp sensor, gives me a lot of image area in which to crop to common printed photo sizes without losing resolution.

What all of that gibberish boils down to is that I needed a bit more image to the left and right of the door to allow me to keep the composition I wanted while satisfactorily allowing me to print to, let’s say, an 8x10 photo. But as usual with Photoshop, where’s there’s a problem, there’s a solution.

That solution can be seen in this next photo, where I’ve added more image to each side. In the photo above, notice that there are not quite 3 long-carved-out-thingies to the right of the top of the door; where in the photo below, there are 4 ½ of these long-cared-out-thingies. [Please forgive me for using such technical photographer’s terms here] You can see a similar transformation to the left of the door. Now, with the extra added bit of photo to the left and right, if I crop down to the point that I want, I can have a pleasing composition.

Next I can work on aging the door a bit, primarily through color, texture and making it richer through darkening, as in this next photo.

But we’re still not there.

I’m not sure exactly when mail slots in doors came about, but it was surely after the time period that I wanted to portray for this door. So I eliminated the modern mail slot. And note that in the version just above, I had already eliminated the round-key-hole-thingie in the center of the door (sorry about using those technical terms, again).

As I found the door color and finish to be a bit bland, I transformed it a bit to brighten it up, as you can see in this final image.

“Pretty cool huh? But that’s not the half of it, folks!”

So, there you have it! One more door transformed to satisfy my door mania.

When I run out of doors to transform, I think another trip will be in order!

You can find this door and many more on my website in the Venice-Doors gallery.

Extra-Added Bonus

But, here is an extra-added bonus about this door and its locking mechanisms. And first, let me say that though I did eliminate some of the elements on the door as described above, I have added absolutely nothing to the image with Photoshop. What you see below is actually there.

When you look at the finished photo above, see that long squiggly bar going from the top of the right door to the mid-point of the left door? Well, that little orangie thing in this photo…

…has a key hole to release that bar so that it stops doing its security thing. Open that lock and you can then rotate that squiggly bar away to open the doors.

Then, just below the door pull on the left part of the door is a small key hole that takes a squarish key – as seen in this photo.

What’s that about?

And for even more mystery, there are two keyholes in the lower part of the right door – seen in this photo. Why are they way down at the bottom of the door, and why are there two of them?

Hmmm, the plot thickens.

Pretty cool huh? But that’s not the half of it, folks!

In the finished door photo way up above, see that long bar that hangs down to the steps in the lower part of the right door?

When you swivel that bar up to the left to its horizontal position, and when you put a pad lock on it through the ring on the left door –seen here…

…that horizontal bar covers up the two keyholes you just saw so that a key can’t be inserted into either of them. Holy my golly, what is that all about?! This is like some dawn-of-man combination locking system.

I must say that this door, with its complicated locking mechanisms, really appeals to the engineer that still lurks somewhere inside of me.

I hope you found this door interesting. Tell me what you think about this door using the comment box below.

Ciao for now,

Steve

Transforming the Bee Fountain

“I was intrigued by this little fountain because of its unique subject – that being an open seashell with three bees drinking from the water spouts of the fountain”

Today’s transformation article is a short one.

The subject is the Fontana della Api, or Bee Fountain. You can find this charming little fountain in Rome just off of Piazza Barberini on the Via Vittorio Veneto, a quiet, tree-lined Roman street.

Here is my original snapshot.

[click an image for a larger view]

This fountain was sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini in 1644. The inscription on the shell reads, "Urban VIII Pont. Max…built this little fountain to be of service to private citizens. In the year 1644, XXI of his pontificate." The service it provided was to water horses.

And since, as I’m sure you are aware, 1644 is the year that Pope Urban VIII died, it is one of the last works he commissioned. And thus ends the lesson in history. And, you were aware of that fact, weren’t you?! Thought so.

I was intrigued by this little fountain because of its unique subject – that being an open seashell with three bees drinking from the water spouts of the fountain. Here you can see one of those bees sipping away at that fresh Apennine water.

My transformation of this photo was pretty straightforward.

My first inclination was to crop the photo into a square image, as none of the area to the left and right seemed to be important to the image.

There were several elements I wanted to remove for my final image. Do you see the woman walking in the background to the left? Out of here. The sign in the doorway just to the right of the shell? Out of here. The bit of bright sky at the top left? Out of here. See the bit of drain screening in the water just below the bee on the left? Out of here.

For the final transformation, I darkened the background a good bit. And finally, I wanted to bring out the texture within the sculpture, as it looked rather flat to me. So that’s what I did.

I find this image, with the bees, the open shell, and the autumn leaves floating in the quiet water of the fountain, to be one of peace.

You can find this photo on my website in the Rome gallery.

Ciao for now,

Stev

Transforming the Pieta

Some of You Misunderstood!

Two weeks ago I wrote for you a widely popular posting titled 'Transforming the Copse'. Many of you emailed me to express your interest and bliss (well, maybe not bliss actually -- let's say pleasure) in seeing the multiple interpretations of that simple copse of trees.

“...two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands — all relegated to another sculptor!”

But, I must say that a few of you pointed out that you were stymied by my title, which some of you misread as 'Transforming the Corpse'.

But hey! You've given me an idea. Let's run with that misunderstood title for this weeks article!

Today I take that rather humorous misunderstanding as the subject of this week's article, which is indeed about transforming the corpse -- the most famous corpse of all: Corpus Christi.

Michelangelo's Pieta' and a Humorous Anecdote

Have you been to St Peter's Basilica in Rome? If you have, you have undoubtedly seen the Pieta' sitting to the right as you enter. And because a deranged geologist took a rock pick to the sculpture in 1972, it is now protected by bulletproof glass, which makes it a bit challenging to get a good photograph of this marvelous work of art.

Everyone knows that Michelangelo is a fabulous painter (the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, for example) and sculptor (the David statute and of course, the Pieta). And he typically did not have a huge ego problem -- for instance he never signed any of his sculptures...or did he?

Shortly after the installation of his Pieta, as he was admiring how it was being displayed, Michelangelo overheard someone remark that it was the work of another sculptor, Cristoforo Solari, rather than himself. Ouch -- two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands -- all relegated to another sculptor!

Late that night, Michelangelo made a change to the Pieta by chiseling an inscription on the sash running across Mary's chest that said, "Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florentine, made this". He later regretted his prideful outburst and swore never to sign another of his works.

Step 1: The Original Snapshot

The first photo below is my original snapshot. I had to wait for a moment when the crowds parted before taking this photo. Ooops, the security setting is now a bit obvious because of the window being reflected in the bullet-proof glass.

Step 2: A Minor Bit of Adjustment

Standing in front of this historic art work, you are mesmerized by it's beauty and you don't really notice the color cast. But now I do. So, I did a bit of work to remove the yellow cast created by the tungsten light. Then, I was able to recover some of the detail lost in the reflection. A bit of cropping resulted in the photo below.

Color cast  and distractions removed, and a bit of cropping — Color cast and distractions removed, and a bit of cropping

Step 3: The Final Transformation

I found the marble stonework in the background to be too much competition for Michelangelo's masterpiece, so I deemphasized it by darkening the background.

Next, to emphasize the texture of the stone-cutting work of Michelangelo, I worked on what we call 'mid-tone contrast' in the photo-editing world. Usually, we talk of contrast in terms of the differences in the lightest and darkest parts of an image. But here, I wanted to emphasize the differences between lighter and darker elements of the photo in the stonework itself, which is in the mid-tones of the image (i.e. not the lightest or darkest parts).

Finally, as it is that texture, and not the color, that is so important to the Pieta', I desaturated the photo just a tad to call your attention to that marvelous texture.

The resulting photo below is my interpretation of Michelangelo's work as I saw it right there with my own eyes -- with every fold and crevice created by his masterful hand vividly portrayed. And this is just the way I wanted you to see it, too.

This example of the transformation of the world's most famous corpse, as well as the other transformations you can see on my website, is what fuels my passion in photography. It's wonderful out there in the world, and I strive to show it to you in a different way, through my own eyes.

Have a comment you want to share about this transformation? Feel free to use the comment box, below.

Ciao for now,

Steve

Beautiful Places: Castello Brolio

Today I want to tell you about a beautiful and important Tuscan castle in Italy -- Castello Brolio. What makes this castle so important? Well, read on.

The Castle

Here is a photo of Castello Brolio as it sits today in mid-eastern Tuscany.

This still-inhabited castle is owned by the Ricasoli family, who has lived in the castle for almost 900 years. Though the first stones of the Brolio Castle date back to the middle ages, the castle did not pass into the hands of the Ricasoli family until an exchange of lands in 1141.

“Barone Ricasoli winery is the fourth longest-lived company in the world in the same place. Barone Ricasoli is the oldest winery in Italy.”

Castello Brolio is on the border between the former city-states of Sienna and Florence and has been the stage for numerous disputes, with the heavy-weight Florentine city-state duking it out against fearsome Sienna. In the photo below, taken from the ramparts of the castle, you can see Sienna in the distance to the right of the photo. [This photo has been made into a tile backsplash which sits behind our kitchen range]

View from the ramparts of Castello Brolio looking toward Sienna at top right

Battle-scarred brickwork of Castello Brolio

Being a castle, one would expect it to be attacked, right? And it has been, as through the centuries the castle has suffered attack and destruction in numerous historical battles; from Aragonese and Spanish attacks during the 15th century, disputes in the 17th century, to bombings and artillery attacks during the Second World War. Evidence of attack can still be seen today, as in this photo.

Here are a few more photos of this well-built castle. As always, click on an image to see a larger view.

And the expansive views from the Castello Brolio are magnificent.

Panorama from the ramparts of Castello Brolio

My wife as she sketches a beautiful contryside

The Baron

Here is photo of Baron Bettino Ricasoli.

What he lacked in looks he made up for in money. At 3,000 acres, the Ricasoli vineyards are the largest in the Chianti Classico area. Because of his integrity and austerity, he was known as 'The Iron Baron'.

This elaborate family tree, reproduced in a print dated 1584, is also one of the first paintings depicting the Chianti area.

The Baron as the Creator of Chianti

Besides being the second and then seventh Prime Minister of Italy, Baron Bettino Ricasoli was a far-sighted wine entrepreneur. As a matter of fact, it was the Baron who created the age-old formula for Chianti wine. After more than thirty years of research and experiments, he divulged his formula in a letter in 1872, where he wrote,

“...I verified the results of the early experiments, that is, that the wine receives most of its aroma from the Sangioveto [today’s Sangiovese] (which is my particular aim) as well as a certain vigour in taste; the Canajuolo gives it a sweetness which tempers the harshness of the former without taking away any of its aroma, though it has an aroma all of its own; the Malvagia, which could probably be omitted for wines for laying down, tends to dilute the wine made from the first two grapes, but increases the taste and makes the wine lighter and more readily suitable for daily consumption…”

— Baroln Bettino Ricasoli in a famous letter addressed to Professor Cesare Studiati at the University of Pisa

You've probably seen wine labels with the designation "Chianti Classico". The geographical location of Castello Brolio puts it in the Chianti Classico region. And note that the 'Classico' extension does not designate more quality per se, but means that it is produced within the classic region of the official Chianti region. If the Chianti region were a donut, Chianti Classico would be the donut hole.

Here you see the neck of a bottle of Barone Ricasoli's Rocca Guicciarda Chianti Classico Riserva (And how do I know that's what wine this is? Because I drank it!).

This seal with the black rooster is your guarantee that you will be drinking Chianti Classico. It is also a DOCG wine, which stands for 'Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita' and is your guarantee that the wine meets the government's control standards for Chianti Classico.

Since 1993, Baron Francesco Ricasoli, 32nd Baron of Brolio and Bettino's great-grandson, has taken the hundreds of years of wine experimentation and experience into the plantings of new varietals and newly created wines.

Our Favorite Barone Ricasoli Wine?

How many times have you been at the wine store and seen a pretty label and you turned to your partner and said, "Hey, this wine looks good"?

With our favorite Barone Ricasoli wine, you can have a pretty label and a pretty wonderful wine. Pictured below is the Rocca Guicciarda Chianti Classico Riserva that we consumed at a little restaurant in Radda in Chanti one fall afternoon.

And hey, there are several. yummy Barone Ricasoli wines. You can see all of them on their website.

And if you happen to be in Tuscany, our instant-friend Barbara here can help you put together a selection for shipment back home. The wine shop is located just below the castle.

And, if you join the Friends of Ricasoli Club, you will get discounts and other special offers.

So, I hope you enjoyed a tour of one of Tuscany's classic wineries, it's creator, and the castle that still guards the ancient vineyards there.

Ciao for now,

Steve

Before and After

Scott Kelby - Founder of the National Association of Photoshop Professionals

As you read this, I am in Las Vegas at the 2015 Photoshop World Conference & Expo. This is a come-together of photographers from all over the world who use Photoshop in their photo processing. The Conference provides three days of intensive training in all aspects of Photoshop.

“The word ‘Photoshop’, like the word ‘darkroom’, it’s not a four-letter word.”

Photoshop has taken the place of the old-fashioned darkroom of yesteryear -- and it is oh, so much better than working in a darkroom with all of those temperature-critical chemicals, and for color, the total confusion of total darkness -- I've been there and it wasn't particularly fun. As I've mentioned before, the processing of the photo in Photoshop and Lightroom (Photoshop's snazzy cousin) is where pure joy enters the picture for me.

So today, I've decided to give you a before and after of a photo that I took in Venice a couple of years ago...a photo that was modified using Photoshop.

Photoshop has taken a rap for the many faked photos that people have created (some obviously for humorous spoofing, but many to pull the wool over our eyes). But I say, count the letters in 'Photoshop' -- the word 'Photoshop', like the word 'darkroom', it's not a four-letter word. Photoshop puts much power in the photographers hands, and like any other power, it must be used judiciously.

In my past blog titled The Venice That Isn’t There I showed you how I have transformed several doors to bring those doors back to the time that they were created by the Italian craftsmen.

This week I want to continue in that vein, but I'll use one of the many religious shrines to demonstrate. These shrines can be found throughout Italy, and in particular Venice.

Just below you see one of the many ancient, charming, religious shrines. Each shrine is dedicated to a particular saint and when created, it was adorned with paintings, statues, and/or relics related to that saint. Who is this particular shrine dedicated to? I’m not really sure -- some shrines have obvious evidence of the honoree and some do not.

If you look hard, you can see a painting of the saint (dark robe) holding the young Christ (yellow top). You can also see that shrines receive continuing adornment from those who respect that particular saint. Though the flowers in the photo are artificial, I've seen many shrines with fresh flowers left by their fans.

Some shrines also act as a collection station for alms for the poor. In a future blog, I will show a shrine dedicated to Saint Antonio which has such an offerings box.

So, what does this particular shrine look like today as you walk through Venice?

Here is the before photo, just below. This photo shows a shrine that must have looked impressive in the days in which it was created, but now finds drab surroundings. So, this is where Photoshop comes in.

Note that I’ve eliminated the electrical conduit that courses down the wall and then into the shrine.

In addition, the unsightly concrete recess below the shrine has been removed...most likely a niche for the former alms box.

I found the crumbling plaster remnant to the right of the shrine to be distracting, so it was eliminated. At one point, plaster covered this whole wall, but time and weather have taken their toll.

As I looked further after eliminating distractions, the ancient, crumbling, underlying brickwork seemed a bit too bright, and it competed with the shrine for attention, so I gave it a richer and darker appearance.

Lastly, I made a significant crop to the photo to eliminate many of the distracting elements, to fill the frame with the shrine itself, and to put it into a vertical format. Now the shrine is taking center stage.

In the final analysis, the finished photo is more in line with how it would have looked 600 years ago without the modern, distracting elements. I hope you appreciate the transformation. And I hope you can appreciate the power of Photoshop.

If you haven't taken a look at the doors of The Venice That Isn’t There, give it a look to see more on my use of Photoshop to de-modernize Italy.

I'll have more Before and Afters in the future, so stay tuned.

Ciao for now,

Steve