Imaginarea Daily

It’s a night like any other and a young man is wandering through the streets of St Petersburg. His only problem is that he’s a dreamer: that’s why the discrepancy between expectations and reality always ends up with the undeserved advantage of the former. In his fantasies he’s a pleasure-seeker, but not much good at socialising in real life. On night, however, he meets a girl who has a story to tell: she is basically the prisoner of her blind grandmother who keeps her under close surveillance (and, paradoxically, won’t let the girl out of her sight), and she’s awaiting the return of her yearned-for love. The girl tells her story so vividly that the narrator (who remains nameless for the entire novella), recognises her as the counterpart of his wishy-washy attitude to life. Fyodor Dostoevsky’s  “White Nights”  (1848) recounts the conversations between these two characters during four typical summer nights in St Petersburg which are shrouded in twilight. In order to remind the nameless young man of the Russian proverb, full of realism, that “it’s bread that keeps one warm, not fur”, we’ve decided to equip him with a freshly-baked trapper hat. This one, however, is also suitable for those never-ending St Petersburg summer days. Name Day: St Martin

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s lifelong vexation was that he had soared to fame with Sherlock Holmes, though he would have preferred to achieve worldwide literary fame as the author of historical novels. His frustration reached such a point that he even decided to kill his famous detective off – though he revived him in the next story he wrote. In a slightly similar way, we have reason to think that the words “spaghetti” and “western” will always feature in the first few lines of any biography on Ennio Morricone . In a career spanning forty years, the Italian composer wrote over four hundred soundtracks, though he didn’t win the Oscar thanks to those for Sergio Leone’s films but, instead, for Quentin Tarantino’s 2016 movie “The Hateful Eight”. If we delve further into his biography, we discover that Morricone used to be a jazz trumpet player and that he studied with composer Goffredo Petrassi. When he was young, in Rome, he became involved in the highbrow musical avant-garde and was one of the founders of the “Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza”. Another musical career, as it were, that he will perhaps now have the time to indulge. We like to imagine him at work in his studio on Piazza Venezia, his secret hatch, a hideaway behind two doors. If one had been able to espy him in his bolthole, one would have seen him writing his music by hand. His score awaits him: we’re sure it’ll be smooth sailing for Ennio Morricone, wherever he is. Name Day: St Leo the Great

During the 28 years in which the Wall was up, the Brandenburg Gate was situated in East Berlin where it was the pride of the GDR. To the point that when American President Kennedy visited in 1963, red banners were hung over it to prevent him from looking at that part of the city. Fast forward to that fateful evening of 9 November 1989 and the press conference underway in the German Democratic Republic; bureaucratic language was being spoken, the kind that waters everything down so much that nothing is actually being said. After all, the pro-communist government was indeed in dead water: Gorbachev had opened up some borders with Hungary and Poland and many Germans were beginning to go over to the West with the excuse of taking a trip to a neighbouring country. On the evening in question, a journalist from Italian newsagency ANSA, Riccardo Ehrman, asked a German official when measures preluding to free movement of persons across the Iron Curtain would come into force; the official replied: “As far as I’m concerned, from this moment.” Also applicable, therefore, to West Berlin. A few hours later, the Brandenburg Gate became a passageway again; the Wall came down shortly afterwards. It took one single question, to-the-point and in context, to redraw Germany’s borders. Name Day: St Theodor

They say that shortly after receiving the Nobel Prize in Stockholm, playwright Luigi Pirandello quickly packed his suitcase and left for Prague where he had arranged to hold a conference at the Italian Institute of Culture. An episode like that is emblematic when one works in artistic or creative fields: an important contract or an unmissable opportunity can pop up at any moment. And whenever it does, it’s accompanied by a siren song that makes it seem unique, crucial, a ‘must’. The eponymous Mattia Pascal in Pirandello’s novel says that he only ever really felt free when he was “holding a suitcase”: here today, somewhere else tomorrow. The same also applied to Sicilian-born Pirandello who became famous when he was about fifty:  a man always on the move (like his aforementioned character) who no doubt felt he needed to make up for lost time. What a huge effort goes into earning one’s bread (with or without butter)! Feast day of the Four Crowned Martyrs

The original idea of the Sagrada Familia is lost in the mists of time: the year was 1882 and the architect who had been called in had presented designs in a perfect neo-Gothic style. When he resigned, a year later, Antoni Gaudí took over. Eminent art historians tell us that Gothic architecture reflects a logical discourse: all parts must tend towards final clarity yet be identifiable at the same time. That’s why, in a cathedral, we will always notice the ribbing on the columns. This aspect isn’t so obvious in Gaudí, however: from whichever point you look at it, the Sagrada Familia always seems a bit frothy; even its spires give the impression of being sucked in from below. And yet, something of that two-way correspondence can also be found in this Catalan puzzle. Whoever has entered the basilica has found two familiar companions there: lights and colours. This is simply the effect of the disposition of the volumes resting on each other and thus maintaining the logical coherence of Gothic architecture. We’ve tried to reconstruct the idea of a structure turning into colour through the relationship between a pencil and its lead. But it’s just a prototype: to see the final effect we’re going to have to wait until the basilica is inaugurated in 2026 (following on from its consecration in 2010). Next time you visit Barcelona, bear in mind that the cost of the ticket still goes towards funding this long-awaited inauguration. Name Day: St Prosdocimus

Cesare Lombroso is one of those famous people who have a permanent calling card: the adjective “Lombrosian”. His name was his destiny, with a ring to it which may not be downright sinister, but isn’t particularly cheery either: one just needs to say the word and one immediately thinks of a direct relationship between an individual’s physiognomy and their personality. In Cesare Lombroso’s case, his features were indicative of someone who was going to make criminology his line of study (“Criminal Man”, published in 1876, is the summation of such studies). Low forehead, aquiline nose and arched eyebrows: that is how to measure up this doctor from northern Italy. But in order to portray him, in addition to tape measures, we’ve also chosen an owl which, in ancient Greece, was one of the attributes of Athena. This goddess was wise because, just like a nocturnal animal, she was able to see beyond the night – let’s say, beyond appearances. And, when it comes to adding up, let’s remind Lombrosians everywhere that 2 + 2 = 5 (even English rock band Radiohead made a song with that very title). Name Day: St Leonard

In his film “Roma”, Federico Fellini catapults us among revellers painting the town (Rome) red one evening in the 1970s, amidst songs and plates of carbonara pasta. Now, let’s imagine those same trattorias filling up with delegates who’ve arrived in Rome from all over the world to attend the FAO’s “World Food Conference” in 1974. It was a momentous event that took place during an era that was still ‘hungry’ for “World Days”: the oil crisis and a decrease in the big producers’ agricultural reserves (first and foremost the USA), were among the causes for alarm. One of the results of this conference was the establishment in 1974 of the Committee on World Food Security whose task is to review and follow-up on policies concerning world food security, including production and access to food. For the first time a clear warning was being sent out to that part of the world that could afford to fill Fellini’s trattorias or Ray Kroc’s McDonald’s: that the food problem must be tackled by cultivating broad relationships – over and beyond flowerbeds – and by rediscovering the authentic value of agriculture. Name Day: St Domninus, St Theotimus and Companions, Martyrs

In the 19th century one was wont to address Nature writing it with a capital N. Not out of deference, but in order to sew together a relationship that was extremely multifaceted. Italian poet Giacomo Leopardi, for example, views Nature as a priestess, an austere and severe keeper of time. In an imaginary dialogue written by him, Nature tells a man that he has been a fool to think that the world was made for his benefit; and it is thus no coincidence that he, an Icelander, dies just a few seconds after their dialogue has taken place (owing to unknown causes…). At the same time, though in a more northerly country, another poet was carrying on a different dialogue: “To the solid ground of Nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye…” These words by William Wordsworth were printed on the cover of the first issue of “Nature” on 4 November 1869. It was a declaration of intents. Indeed, we could describe the English people’s relationship with nature as picturesque, a concept most clearly exemplified in the English garden, a quiet match between two players: human artifice and the Mistress of the house. Nowadays we fluctuate between two extremes: from calling Nature by her name, we’ve gone on to be so overly familiar with her that if she could speak, she would say that we’re shouting in her face. At the same time, other buzz words have come to the fore, “Gaia” being merely one of the more commonly used; this word is used to denote a line of thought according to which Mother Nature possesses the means to regenerate herself, in spite of the pollution and global warming caused by us, and the plastic we unload into the sea. We wish journals such as “Nature” the best of luck: today it’s harder than ever to ensure one’s buttons are securely sewn on and that one isn’t going to lose one’s thread amidst the tangled-up strands of science, journalism, science fiction and fake news. The latter is forever lurking, ready to camouflage and pass itself off as the real thing. Name Day: St Charles Borromeo

Laika was the first living being to be launched into space and her adventure on spacecraft Sputnik 2 made an impression on many hearts. First and foremost, alas, on her own: it turns out that she probably died of a heart attack, or as a consequence of shock, a few hours after being launched into low Earth orbit. Laika never actually reached outer space, despite Soviet propaganda to the contrary. However, Laika had much posthumous fortune, especially as far as music is concerned, with compositions dedicated to her by Max Richter, Gorillaz and Arcade Fire, to mention just a few… Also the Americans (symbolically) launched a much-loved dog into space during the Cold War: we’re talking about Snoopy who was the mascot of the Apollo 10 program in 1968. But in actual fact, the USA used to launch primates into space, far less beloved by humans than dogs (after all, few people have monkeys as pets), but much more similar to us. Propaganda is always capable of making things up or embellishing them with great precision. If we look carefully, though, we realise that these ‘made-up’ facts are as translucent as fine face powder. Luckily, however, the memory of these little sacrificial mascot-victims lives on: lovable and intergalactic. Name Day: St Silvia

When this Disney-Pixar animated comedy film was released, the concept of renewable energy was perhaps confined only to a few outposts of academia. But imagination is always the vanguard: in “Monsters, Inc.” there’s no need to import energy and the population don’t get annoyed with energy prices going up for the umpteenth time. The city of Monstropolis is powered thanks to a strange pact between monsters and kids: the former frighten the latter whose screams are harvested to generate volts. In the course of the film, it transpires that children’s laughter is “ten times more potent”. The film takes us back to the origin of the word “monster” that comes from the Latin “monstrum” which, in turn, means an “awesome” or “prodigious” event or creature. And yet, in these modern times of ours we often hear it said that the sleep of reason produces monsters . Now, if we reread this in a non-literal key, we’ll realise that it’s only when reason makes way for imagination that we can measure reality in a different way. At which point: who can be afraid of something awesome in the cupboard? All Souls Day