Being autumn in Italy, the sunflowers are at the end of their season. Their big faces, now drained of their brightness, are beginning to droop, but in their thousands, the brown faces keep chasing the sun’s direction.

Hay bales and the last tomatoes await their collection, as do the black grapes across streams of vineyards – so ripe and heavy!

The perfectly organised rows are inspiring for my latest focus on patterns. I’ve been hunting new storylines. They are everywhere here in beautiful Italy.

Hop, skip, explore

I last saw Montepulciano in 2018 and have always remembered the views—the town’s height perfectly allows you to stay connected with the landscape—it’s like seeing a perfect patchwork quilt.

We savoured the town for a night, which gave me enough time to walk around it and plan two drawings.

Venice

After resting in Cortona for a day or two, we hopped on the train to our beloved Venice. It’s almost unbelievable to imagine this type of travel.

We b-lined to San Giorgio dei Greci to light candles.

I love this church! So much so that I have created a story of paintings and an etching about it for my upcoming exhibition at QG in December.

You’ll get the preview if you’re signed up for my news.

After the memorial stops, we bolted to La Biennale Di Venezia, where time and capacity allowed only to visit the Giardini pavilions.

When visiting exhibitions, I absorb them in two ways: personally and professionally. I spend half my time viewing as an artist, drawing inspiration for my own work, and the other half as a gallerist, spiking references to the QG-represented artists works I know so well.

These events are overwhelming environments. They inspire great conversation and thought immediately afterwards (Prosecco and Aperol required), and then later, a beautiful unravelling of artwork flashes are released in my mind over the coming weeks and months.

Just as well it’s a biennale and not an annuale!

Unfortunately, sketching in a painting wasn’t an option in Venice —I was maxed out with the Biennale and the Guggenheim and wondering about the streets we love. But I left enough energy to draw the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute (from the fabulous Gritti Palace’s Riva Bar), which I could draw forever.

Those domesVenetian domes, the Grand Canale, and the Palazzo Salviati, (which I am happy to see being restored), will be in my heart forever.

I have paid my respects to all these places and suspect I will continue to.

Bongiorno Bologna!

Having only transitioned through Bologna’s station on past trips, we decided to pitstop this time.

What a youthful, gutsy, and bold city. I didn’t think I’d find it so inspiring, usually seeking finer architectural features, but the ‘galleries’ and endless arched walkways eventually got to me.

The scale of things in Bologna is mammoth – even on a small street (Vicolo), you will find yourself entering a Basilica and unable to tilt your head back far enough to see its top. Needless to say, the inside is art-loving glory.

However, one of the main reasons we stopped in Bologna this time was to get a dose of Morandi. And that we did, seeing both his residence, now transformed into a small museum where you mostly see Morandi’s studio, bed, and other items, and the Museo Morandi, which is within the Museo d’Arte Moderna di Bologna (MAMbo) and that houses a brilliant collection of the artist’s works including his press and etchings (thanks to his sister).

There’s no appetite like the one earned after walking to, in, and from exhibitions, and no more extraordinary taste in the food devoured after this activity.

Even though I developed a daily routine of morning ‘cornetto’ (croissant-type pastry) with my machiatonne (a highly customisable coffee I soon learned for every region and barista), I would feel famished by lunch. Dinner was always a light one.

We overdosed on Mortadella and Torttellini, as you do in Bologna, and had to resort to Tavernaki our body’s local cuisine, to inspire digestion. We had dolmades, skordalia, kefalograviera, souvlaki, Greek yogurt, and salad, but sadly, they had run out of risogalo (a creamy rice dessert that I love and never have).

My art heart

Travel is as much about cuisine as it is about art for me – that’s culture, right?

This is what comes together in my work.

The culture that inspires me is rich (in heritage) and old school – as old as bread with olive oil and pasta twirling techniques. It has cobble-stoned streets and fresco-filled Byzantine churches with winding, hilly roads, stone-built architecture, broad piazzas, towering bells and huge clock faces. Give me undulating acreages, pine-fenced and patched with vineyards and washing that hangs out of windows while stripy-dressed masters navigate the canals below.

For me, this all exists in Italy.