Ryan Avery

Hand of God series

This series shows several collages of humans and the cosmos, in a lighthearted effort to quickly depict several different concepts of an omnipotent being.

The touch of a hand

The huge evergrowing pulsating brain that rules from the center of the ultraworld

There’s a party in my galaxy

The overseeing eye

The wish giver

Demon Series

In contrast with the Hand of God series, this shows the fiery and awe-inspiring aspects of the cosmos, composited with similarly-forboding demon images.

Demonic spawn of the cosmos

Demon inside the fire

Planet Repurpose Series

Taking images of the bodies orbiting our sun and placing them in situations where they do not belong.

From whence the moon came

The giant spider of Saturn’s Tethys moon

Happy birthday, Earth!

What a lovely night

Rings of Earth

Ariel View series

Mainly concerned with arial views from the Iknonos, Modis, and Aster imaging sensors, this series seeks to change their focus through photoshopping.

It began in Afrika

This is the big one

A Vatican hurricane

The US Navy on a Venitian holiday

That is one large island

Worshipping the Suez canal

Skysitter

ET Eiffel Tower

Sometimes when you venture out on a journey, you’re not quite sure why you’re doing it. Such was our daytrip to Montepulciano, about a 45-minute drive from Cortona where we were staying.

Montepulciano, in my mind, was never anything special. What did it have that Cortona didn’t? More churches, narrow roads and city walls. Not only that, but we were making the drive in the pouring rain.

Though it was pouring, when we found a spot to park, we still ventured into the city. I had a recommendation from a guide book that suggested a small osteria for lunch. The only problem was that the landmarks the map listed in the guidebook didn’t seem to correspond to the ones we were seeing in front of us. At all. And when it’s pouring down like a waterfall, no one’s really too into your cries of “let’s just take this street, maybe we’ll figure out where we are!” But after 15 minutes of wandering in the rain, we found our bearings and headed towards our lunch destination.

Upon seeing it, it really wasn’t anything special – a little hole-in-the-wall place serving seemingly simple fare, inexpensive but not ridiculously so. Sort of akin to a small tavern or a quaint mountain ski lodge. My gnocci was good, but nothing compared to the heavenly fare we had been dining on in Cortona over the past few days. T, on the other hand, ordered a mushroom pasta. These were no ordinary mushrooms, for the millimeter-thick slices were orange on the outside and pearl white on the inside. We both agreed that the dish both looked and tasted divine.

When we were finished with the meal, we asked the owner what the mushrooms were. He motioned for us to wait for a moment, and returned from the kitchen with a few golf ball-sized objects in his hand. He told us a long story about their origin, and the words we picked out were “funghi dell’uovo” and “solo settembre”. Thus, we realized that these “egg mushrooms” were only harvested in September, meaning we had come at the perfect time. Now we knew why we had driven all the way to Montepulciano.

Our lodging during our stay in Italy was second only to the incredible food we ate over the two weeks. For our limited budget, we ended up staying in apartments I would have thought would be twice the rate. Our apartment in Rome had treated us fabulously, allowing us to enjoy a few lunches at home and given us the space to kick back and relax. It was going to be hard to top it.

However, I had a surprise for T in Cortona – I hadn’t told her much about the place, only that it was a bed & breakfast on the outskirts of town. Upon renting our car, we followed the directions given to us by the owner. After making the last turn, we came across the “Il Sole Del Sodo”, a simply picturesque Tuscan building. It had a vine-covered iron gate guarding a wonderful courtyard with canopies, shrubs, trees, flowers and a pair of small balconies overlooking the entrance.

The owner greeted us with a warm friendly smile, and showed us to our room, the “Stanza del Passato” (Room of the Past). Decorated with paintings and objects from Italy’s past (mostly fashion), it was a wonderfully-lit home away from home. We quickly dropped our bags to take a more thorough tour. Between the sitting room well-stocked with books and the spacious dining room, this was the kind of place one could stay at for weeks at a time.

But we hadn’t even seen the pool yet (only heard there was one). Antsy to take a dip after our long train ride, we put on our suits and headed out back. Let me tell you, a finer sight there never was. Sitting on the deck chairs beside the pool, we had a wonderful view of the marble pool and the entire Cortona countryside. Looking up, bunches of grapes were dangling just waiting to be picked and eaten. Off to the side, fig trees – branches were hanging low from the weight of their fruit. And there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Though within walking distance of Cortona proper, the town is so incredibly hilly that a car is pretty much mandatory. Though Cortona isn’t in my near-term radar anytime soon, if I’m ever there again, this fabulous bed & breakfast will be at the top of my list.

You can always spot the people who have just exited the Vatican Museums or the Ducal Palace. It's all in the eyes – that vacant stare similar to the end of a Godfather trilogy marathon. Always scared to look up lest they see yet another full-length ceiling mural. You've probably experienced it, too. Once you've seen one duke's version of opulence, decadence, grandeur, and power, you've seen them all. Take one part famous painter, one part life-size statues, sprinkle with a pinch of gold inlays and garnish with putti up the wazoo. Et voila!

A wiser man than I might say it's a mistake to tour Italy with an art connoisseur when you yourself are not too fond of museums. But sometimes you do funny things for someone, like saying “Sure, I'd love to tour the Museo Nationale de Art Moderne after we see the Vatican Museums!” Or the even more outrageous, “You're right, our dinner reservation is not for another half hour. That gives us plenty of time to quickly browse the Museo Capitale!”

Sure you would rather be seeing the Roman Baths, or the Trastevere neighborhoods. But at least she's happy. At least, that's what you say after the 5^th museum. It's a different story after you run out of fingers to count museums on. “I'll sit this one out – let's meet up in 3 hours” becomes more appropriate. And when you do meet up after 3 hours, that vacant stare she exhibits just after seeing the entire history of western art in one afternoon is simply priceless…

Each night after coming home from a local neighborhood trattoria or pizzeria, we would pass this small corner food kiosk about a block away from our apartment. No matter when we returned home, whether at 10pm, midnight, or even 1am, it seemed like every teen and 20-something was there. We gathered from what people were eating, they were selling some sort of slushee or shaved ice (called a “granita” in Italy). But night after night, we would be stuffed from an incredible meal, never saving room for this obviously famous local hangout.

One early evening, we were returning to our apartment before going out to dinner. Though there were no crowds like late-night, the granita stand was open. We both knew that now, before we ate dinner and before the crowds descended, was our chance to try what every local Italian already knew. Two elderly ladies were working the stand, a slight shock to me considering its relatively youthful clientele. I picked something from the menu above their heads, not knowing exactly what I was ordering. T chose something different.

I tell you, as soon as they started loading up the juice squeezer with tangerines, lemons, cherries, and several other fruits, we knew we had come across something unique. Not only was the fruit fresh squeezed, but they dumped the then-squeezed fruits straight into the ice mix. Topped off with a bit of coconut, we had in our hands the most incredible treat known to Italy. As it turns out, these were not ordinary granitas. They were “Supergranitas”!

We never did go back to that place, a shame considering how flavorful the concoctions were. But every night for the rest of our stay in Rome, we would pass by this innocent-looking food stand, wade past the mass of Italians socializing over their late-night treats, and continue to our apartment, knowing that we had experienced a true “Rome city secret”.

A unique thing about Europe is that it seems the elderly are never cast out of daily life. Unlike in America, where as soon as you hit 65 you move to Florida and start playing golf, Italians live downtown right up until the end. As such, you see mobility-impaired seniors going to the market, eating at restaurants, and walking down the street the same as anyone else. It’s actually quite amazing to think about how long it must take them to run their errands. But they’re out there doing it – living life as they always have.

We experienced this fact our first day out of our apartment. We were waiting for the elevator to take us down from our 7th-floor apartment, and when the doors opened up, a lady of 90+ years was inside, carrying a large bowl full of grapes. We both climbed into the cramped elevator hardly big enough for 2, only to find that for whatever reason, the elevator doors would not close. We didn’t know a word of Italian, so we weren’t able to ask our elderly friend if this was normal or not. Instead, we got off and she proceeded to speak to us at length in her native tongue. We had no idea what she was saying, but Tamarind stood transfixed, listening to her. After a few sentences, she responded in a seeming nod of understanding, “You want us to take your grapes downstairs? First floor? To Giordini?” The old lady nodded when she figured she was understood, handed us the grapes, and proceeded to ascend the stairs one-by-one up to her 8th-floor abode.

So we went downstairs to the first floor, knocked on Giordini’s door, and handed her the grapes, not knowing what exactly to say. She seemed to understand who they were from, and thanked us with a resounding “grazie”?. Obviously, our older elevator friend would have had an inordinate amoung of trouble descending 7 flights of stairs, but I have no doubt that if we were not there to make the delivery for her, she would have done it no matter how long it took her. It wouldn’t have been a matter of determination, either – it would simply have been done. And yet we complain when we have to drive a mile in our SUV to the supermarket to pick up a gallon of milk…