Tag Archive: alfama


O Lisbon, where art thou?

I left Lisbon ten weeks ago.  I am working on a series of paintings. The starting point are the pictures I took in Lisbon.

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Lisbon, part XXX

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This picture I took around the corner, where I lived for two weeks.

ALFAMA!

And I think these pictures of Lisbon are really related with my oilpaintings.

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Lisbon, more pictures

Few more pictures, I took this summer.

Next year I will be back for two projects.

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Igreja de Santo Estêvão (the church on the right)

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Lisbon has many faces. The rich history is everywhere. The big statues, the (mostly baroque) churches and the impressive squares. But also the “Avenida da Liberdade”. When you walk there, you’re in Paris. The picture of the Praca da Comércia I posted earlier, is a good example how once this city played a important role in the world.

And then there is the more modern, futuristic Lisbon. With great and new architecture.

Last but not least: the decline. On every corner labourers are trying to stop this. Renovation is all over the city. I stayed two weeks in Lisbon. The apartment above me was renovated. Amd  across our little street walls where demolished and other outer walls where painted.

And I just love this combination. A city is a living thing., has to change to keep up with society.

But do I agree with every change? No, I am afraid not. As an example: The changes they made to “Tor Belem” are terrible. It’s all about making money, attracting as much tourists as possible, whatever the costs.

By the way, do you know the famous painter De Chiroco? He was also here (well, at least in my mind. As you can see in the first two pictures.

The first one was made at Castello Sao Jorge.

The second one near a church, the Panthaon Nacional.

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Below two painting of De Chirico, a Greek/Italian painter

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25 years ago I left her. I will return soon, so I promised her. But it took me more then two decades.

“I bear you no grudge,  it’s just how things are going”, so she told me.  She was still beautiful. The wound she had sustained during the fire, 27 years ago, was healed nicely. You could still see the scar, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least. “This is what I am, it’s part of my past”. A strong lady, a lady with style.

For two weeks the both of us wandered through her streets. Strange, how familiar that felt, how at ease I was. As if I never had been away.

Yesterday we said goodbye, near the river. I wanted to make a promise. Again. But she shut me up, by putting her fingers on my lips. “Don’t. When you want to visit me, just do so. And if not, well ….”

And she walked away, her black hair moved by the wind. She never looked back. Not once.

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