One of the Seven Wonders of Portugal, Palacio National da Pena, a fairy tale palace standing on top of a hill above Sintra is said to be the oldest palace inspired by European Romanticism. Thought I know a few things about Romanticism – as a believer in cross-cultural currents- I know of Romantic poetry, and drama, painting, music and even of the “age of reflection” impact on science (love it! I have to write on this soon) but seeing this castle made me wonder what is it that makes Romantic architecture, Romantic.

Imagination? Intuitive perception? Visually strong colour combinations or mood? Strong emotions? (…) Drama! Dream like pictures maybe?

I can’t go wrong if I say Palacio da Pena reflects the mood of Romantic lyrical poetry of that time. I’m not just saying it: there’s evidence. It’s Byron who wrote in a letter to a friend that the “village of Sintra is the most beautiful in the world” and called it a “glorious Eden”. You can’t really go more Romantic than that, can you? I am sure you expected a looooooong theory to explain what makes this palace Romantic. Well, I guess Byron’s testimony will do. He sounds very convincing, even managed to make me choose Sintra over Evora – a long-time (childhood, in fact) favourite. For many years most visitors haven’t been aware of the original chromatic variety of the palace; it used to be entirely grey, as the colours of its facades faded. It was only at the end of the 20th century that the original colours were restored.

Romantic writers experimented with opium and other drugs (no names, sorry) and that’s because they wanted to drive out reason just so imagination can take away. Same did the Surrealists looking for states in which what is deep down in our minds may come to surface. I love the strange confusion between dream and reality, I’ve got imagination and hope and therefore true freedom. I believe in the reality of our dreams (yes, Dali’s, you read my mind)

Call me irrational (please do, I’ll love it!) and let’s never talk about you can’t save the world, Didi thing again!

Tonight we’ll be talking about the exciting new world of digital media (yes, I should be reading on digital strategies tonight) and the Roman town of Pompeii (no, I should NOT even touch books on ancient history).

2. Situation Analysiss

What do they teach us on a Marketing strategies for engaging the digital generation course? Well, they start with the beginning. And the beginning of marketing sounds as follows:

“Etched on a dusty kerbstone amidst the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii, you’ll find an engraved p£n!s, strategically carved to point the way to what, at that time, was one of the most popular brothels in the area. Guides will tell you it’s the “oldest advertisement in the world, for the oldest business in the world”. While the truth of that claim is debatable, the phallic ad is certainly very old” The Pompeii p£n!s was buried by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which destroyed the city on 24 August, AD 79, but the true origins of marketing go back much further that that. (…)”

3. Objectives (goals):

Well, this is why I love marketing: it’s full of surprises! Initial objective was to get on with my emarketing final project draft, but as you see, we end up discussing one of the myths of Pompeii (their actual number is scary) – the brothels.

4. Tactics and actions:

Funny place to read again about the legendary number of brothels in Pompeii, most likely, only one. Not sure there was much promotion (display advertising here) needed, I’d say 100% market share should be relatively easy to obtain for the only existing brothel in the area (therefore by far the most popular!). I am afraid we have been too easily taken by the artistic sketchy image of the brothel and pimp given by Roman comedy (indeed a mirror of those times, but one to turn Roman society upside down, and not to be taken literally).

Pompeii is full of archaeological traps and the truth is that we can’t really distinguish between the dedicated brothel and any of the other places in town where sex and money were not kept separate.

Most of the prostitutes in Pompeii were probably the barmaids or the landladies who sometimes slept with customers after closing time, sometimes for money. Researchers doubt any of them thought of themselves as prostitutes, or called their work place a brothel.

5. Conclusions:

Sorry to disappoint you, but it appears that the search for the Pompeian brothel is a category mistake. Sex for money was very common back then and almost as diffused through the town as eating, drinking and sleeping. Except in one case and I shall be back on that another time

6. Control:

The only place that meets all the criteria to have possibly been a dedicated brothel usually proves to offer the tourist only a brief pleasure. A stream of tourists queue for it, but it has been calculated that the average visit lasts roughly three minutes. Disappointed visitors say the local guides do their best to make it appealing and I guess it’s true, as I heard some not entirely accurate stories. It’s a shame really and, sadly, we forget how sceptical scholarship can sometimes be more exciting then sensationalism ☹

Some local guides have been heard to explain:

“The paintings have a practical purpose. The prostitutes couldn’t speak Latin, you see. So clients had to point to a picture before they went in to let the girls know what they wanted.”

Not sure a brief visit time of 3 minutes and a KFC like menu display makes this place a brothel.

7. Recommendations:

The very date of the explosion is another myth, as the real date probably was a few months later than usually thought, so my personal recommendation would be never to trust marketers: we are trained to try and pass a fancy-not-at all-accurate image as the truth

- this plan is a mock-up; don’t give it too much attention-

Saudade is the incompleteness, the melancholic longing for something (someone) you were very found of and which is gone. A very sad tone and happy at the same time as you think about things that happened in the past. A turning towards the past or towards the future, a desire for something unattainable – sometimes just because it doesn’t exist.

It’s been said that if you ask 10 people to explain saudade or Fado each will come up with a different version because it’s deeply personal and it depends on the mood of the moment. Surely haven’t originated during the Great Portuguese Discoveries, as some may say (simply because saudade was found in use before 1415), but most probably given meaning by the sadness felt about those who departed to unknown seas never to be returned. May be completely unrelated, but I can’t help but thinking of Moorish songs and homesick sailors.

To be sure I managed to confuse you, poetry of my choice (can’t help it as usual – really proud to be ridiculously odd to love stuff like this):

One wish alone have I In the quiet of the night Beside the sea to die A peaceful sleep With the forest near Above, a heaven clear No candles shine Nor tomb I need, instead Let them for me a bed Of twigs entwine. M. Eminescu, One wish alone have I (Mai am un singur dor)

All sorts of ways of describing saudade, and I shall choose my favourite. For me it’s not about what I lost, but about the love that remains. For when you’re gone, I shall miss you, as my love for you stays. As promised, missing you will always bring a smile

New favourite word at the moment, as I thoroughly enjoyed this not-as-culinary-as-it-sounds scrambling – lying in between hill walking and climbing! Already excited about the December one! Oh, and before I forget, that’s close to Edale, a charming village and a valley in the Dark Peak Area of the Peak District, the start of the Pennine Way – England’s most famous long distance footpath stretching from Derbyshire to the Scottish Border.

Another interesting rock I’d like to write about is the Lover’s Leap. There’s a funny story to go with it, but no photos Got photos from the Devil’s Arse though… Be back soon!

Whispering dome
And London rain
A theatre of dreams
A bridge of hope
Angels I miss.

You might be familiar with Dali’s elephant on the South Bank in London. Not sure you have noticed its smile though.

Dali’s ELEPHANT was inspired by Bernini’s ELEPHANT, whose ELEPHANT was in fact inspired by another ELEPHANT. One from a 15^th century novel’s  illustration.

And again, Bernini’s elephant ( photo courtesy of Chris Miller) wasn’t his elephant, but one of student’s. Bernini was commissioned by the Pope to create a sculpture to support an obelisk located in Piazza della Minerva in Rome. It was one of Bernini’s students who actually created the sculpture of an elephant. Why is it smiling? It’s because the animal was sculpted as if it were defecating: its muscles are tensed and its tail is shifted to the left. Also, the elephant’s rear is pointed at the office of Bernini’s enemies as his final word.

Hehe, just by coincidence, the elephant’s rear on the South Bank  points at the London Eye! 

There is a story about the schoolboy Dali, that I found particularly interesting. When he was 11-12 years old, he set up at playtime a money-changing table and announced that he would buy five centimo coins for ten centimo each. His fellow pupils gladly exchanged their five centimo pieces for ten centimo pieces as long as the supply (from Dali’s parental home) lasted. They thought that Salvador was mad, while he claimed with his well known dramatic skill that he had made a mathematical discovery which will bring him untold profits )

This story shows that Dali valued attention and fame more than money. Also, that there are so many things artists can buy with money. Modern art does indeed rely on solid financial subventions.

Act mad, spend some money and you’ll increase your chances of being a famous artist! 

You know I like Dora Maar. I’ve showed you some of her photos, because I thought of doing something similar to that. And you said we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t try to copy other people’s photos, we shouldn’t do what’s been done before… we should try to be original…

Well, I think we can still be original while letting ourselves influenced by others. Have a quick look at Dali, for example:

Dali, a famous preacher on originality, has said: “The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot.” Then he went on saying about Picasso’s originality: “he had a feel for adjectives, but few ideas. (…) Hos whole brilliance lay in his skill as plagiarist (…) Picasso was a duettist . He always needed a partner: Ingres, Delacroix, Velasquez, and others I forgot. But he was a eunuch, a caricaturing imitator who tore down and made fun of what he could not outdo.”

Some say it’s jealousy. That would be funny, knowing how often Dali parodied other painters. Also, there were many surrealists who felt that the early Dali lacked originality. Maybe at the time when early Dali was heavily influenced by Picasso, whom he greatly admired?

I find it even funnier when he says Picasso “always needed a partner: Ingres, Delacroix, Velasquez”. Ha ha ha ha, what about you Mr. Dali? Where did you get your flamboyant moustache from? From the master painter Diego Velázquez, maybe? )

So that’s not jealousy, I don’t think. I’d remind you how Dali loved attention, and I’d say this taunts have the purpose of a contemporary direct marketing campaign. Just to refresh publicity a bit!

And also, I know, you’ll laugh to hear that he once sent a telegram praising Ceausescu (Romanian Communist leader) for his ridiculous adoption of a scepter as part of his regalia (!?). Having no clue of its mocking aspect, a Romanian daily newspaper – I won’t say which one: Scanteia – published it!!!!

With Dali, it’s impossible to tell whether his statements were genuine or whimsical… Oh, I meant to tell you about Dali’s Elephant and post photos of the one in London on the South Bank. Forgot about that! Got carried away…

be back soon

I remember seeing beach huts for the first time; I thought having small wooden houses on the beach was weeeird!!!! So I looked into it to see how they came about.

It was Queen Victoria who made sea bathing fashionable with her “hut” on wheels – a sort of bathing machine which afforded privacy for the ladies who could enter the water with only their heads being seen.

Later on, in the Edwardian era and in the years following the First World War, the sight of people of both sexes in bathing costumes had become acceptable. But changing in public was still frowned upon and could result in a fine. So people needed beach huts to change in! Enterprising people made use of the abandoned bathing machines by removing the wheels and turning them into beach huts. Other huts have been made from redundant railway carriages.

I loved the string of brightly coloured beach huts in Southwold! Not sure it’s worth saving up for one; it takes a while when you can only save £15 a time