Known as Mardi Gras to most Americans, Fat Tuesday was the first holiday I experienced upon my arrival in Italy. We had barely settled in when the entire country, some places more than others, celebrated Carnivale with great zeal. I remember early that Tuesday morning, visiting a local bakery, tucked away on a side street. I purchased a paper cone filled with delectable zeppole, the Italian equivalent of donut holes, and roamed the quiet streets, watching the shops and cafes open and the small grocers and florists receive their early morning shipments.
The night was a different experience. Little children ran all over the place dressed in costumes. Confetti and glitter of violets, reds, and golds filtered through the air and fell into the cracks between the cobblestones. Silly string was sprayed all over buildings and unsuspecting walkers. There were people everywhere until quite late; it was the only night I remember returning to my humble abode before the rest of the town had closed its shutters.
This piece, oils and acrylic on masonite, was inspired by my memories of Martedi Grasso in Orvieto, and the taste of Carnivale I received in Venice. I’m not sure what else to do with it, or if I should do anything else.