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1000 results for “francibosco”

  1. Oh boy... we've crossed some kinda threshold here. 👀

    "At a political event in #SanFrancisco on Wednesday afternoon, individuals present chanting “tax the rich” switched their chant to “tax the #Jews,” San Francisco Mayor #DanielLurie stated.

    “This was an event I put on with [District Five] Supervisor [Bilal] #Mahmood, labor leaders, and dozens of workers to announce a plan that creates more jobs for those workers and housing for #SanFranciscans,” #Lurie said of the event in a post to X/Twitter.

    “Suggesting that Jews are wealthy is a tired #trope, and targeting our community at an event focused on creating economic opportunity for San Franciscans is decidedly #antisemitic,” the Democratic mayor added."

    jpost.com/diaspora/antisemitis

  2. Trump says federal deployment to San Francisco called off after conversation with Mayor Daniel Lurie

    President Trump announced Thursday that he has called off a plan to deploy federal agents to San Francisco,…
    #NewsBeep #News #Topstories #DanielLurie #DonaldTrump #Headlines #NationalGuardoftheUnitedStates #SanFrancisco #TopStories
    newsbeep.com/205107/

  3. RE: mas.to/@dmacphee/1165727237776

    ‘Trips to San Francisco, New York, Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids, Mich., Boston and other business centres have also fallen by more than half, according to the data’

    #usPol #trump #usEconomy #tourism #maga

  4. Francisco Lindor met up with Kazuo Matsui at the #AllStarGame! 🤝

  5. 44 years ago today
    'Album – Generic Flipper' is the debut studio album by San Francisco-based punk rock band Flipper, released on this day in 1982 by Subterranean Records

    #punk #punks #punkrock #flipper #hardcorepunk #history #punkrockhistory #otd

  6. 42 years ago – what an awesome lineup!

    Dead Kennedys, Flipper, and Bad Brains, On Broadway, San Francisco, California, February 6, 1984

    Photos by Jennifer Patterson Lohmann

    #Punk #Punks #Punkrock #HardcorePunk #DeadKennedys #BadBrains #Flipper #History #PunkrockHistory

  7. How JD Vance’s path to being Trump’s VP pick wound through Silicon Valley

    Following a brief period of work in corporate law after he graduated Yale, Vance moved to San Francisco and got a job at #Peter #Thiel’s Mithril Capital venture firm in 2015.

    After Hillbilly Elegy became a bestseller in 2016 and brought him to national prominence, Vance joined the venture capital firm Revolution, founded by the former AOL CEO #Steve #Case.

    Vance remained a part of the tech VC world after returning to Ohio and leaving Revolution in early 2020.

    He received financial backing from Thiel to co-found the venture firm Narya Capital
    – which, like Thiel’s enterprises, was named after an object from The Lord of The Rings, this time a ring of power made for elves.

    Other prominent investors in Narya included #Eric #Schmidt, the former Google CEO,and #Marc #Andreessen, a venture capitalist, who announced his own support for #Trump this past week.

    The stated goal of Vance’s firm was to invest in early-stage startups in cities that Silicon Valley tended to overlook.

    Narya Capital in 2021 led a group of conservative investors,
    including Thiel,
    to put money into #Rumble, the video streaming platform that positions itself as
    a less-moderated and more rightwing friendly version of YouTube.

    Vance’s co-founder at Narya, #Colin #Greenspon, touted the investment as a challenge to big tech’s hold on online services
    – a frequent conservative talking point during the backlash to content moderation around the pandemic and 2020 presidential election.

    It was also around this time that Thiel, who heavily backed Trump financially during the 2016 campaign, brought Vance to first talk with Trump during a secretive meeting at Mar-a-Lago in February of 2021, according to the New York Times.

    Vance’s long association with Thiel also proved lucrative during his run for senator in 2022.
    Thiel put a staggering $15m into Vance’s campaign and, according to the Washington Post, helped court Trump’s endorsement, leading to Vance winning a tightly contested Republican primary race and then the senate election.

    Although Thiel has pledged in recent years to stay out of donations to the 2024 election,
    Vance has since flexed his other Silicon Valley connections to ingratiate himself to Trump.

    The Ohio senator introduced #David #Sacks, a prominent venture capitalist, to Donald Trump Jr in March, the New York Times reported,
    and attended Sacks’ pro-Trump fundraiser in June, co-sponsored by #Chamath #Palihapitiya, Sacks’ co-host on the popular podcast All In.

    The event, which cost as much as $300,000 to attend, was held at Sacks’s San Francisco mansion and featured the investor thanking Vance for his help making the fundraiser happen.

    During an informal conversation at the dinner, Sacks and Palihapitiya told Trump to nominate Vance as his VP choice.

    Sacks spoke at the Republican national convention Monday.
    In the days prior, he had also called Trump to advocate for Vance as the VP pick,
    as had #Elon #Musk and #Tucker #Carlson, the ex-Fox News host, according to Axios.

    Thiel also expressed his support for Vance in private calls with Trump, the New York Times reported.

    When Trump confirmed Vance would be his running mate, Sacks and Musk posted fawning celebrations on Twitter
    – with Musk saying the ticket “resounds with victory”.

    Many of Vance’s wealthy tech elite and venture capitalist supporters now appear to be preparing to offer even more tangible support.
    Investors including Musk, Andreessen and Thiel’s co-founder in #Palantir, #Joe #Lonsdale, are all reportedly planning to donate huge sums of money to back the Trump and Vance campaign
    theguardian.com/technology/art

  8. North End Police Station, Greenwich St., San Francisxo

    Built in 1912 to maintain security during the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition nearby (of which the Palace of Fine Arts is a remainder), the North End Police Station was abandoned by the 1980s.

    The impressive Spanish Colonial Revival building became San Francisco Landmark #218 in 1996, and has been converted to private use as a residence and art studio.

    #watercolor #watercolour #sf #sanfrancisco #sfart #sfartist #sfba #commission #architecture #police #policestation #parrots #conures

    An imposing Spanish Colonial-style building with a phone pole in front of it. Some of San Francisco's bright green cherry-headed conures (parrots) sit on the phone wires above the scene.

  9. Whitney’s Best Album Yet: Indie-Pop Duo Drops Affecting New LP “Small Talk”

    Photo by Alexa Viscius

    Whitney has released their fourth and “unequivocally best and most affecting” album, Small Talk, today via AWAL. After a decade of being roommates and bandmates, Julien Ehrlich and Max Kakacek recorded the 11 incandescent songs themselves, creating instant classic Whitney songs while also demonstrating significant evolution. The release kicks off a world tour, including a winter EU/UK headline run starting February 6, 2026, in Paris.

    https://open.spotify.com/album/0DV7ElSZhfGNknhxBnQeJk?si=x_LKd-LxRYG-XBpfNIeUmA

    TOUR DATES:

    2026:
    Fri Feb 6 – Paris @ Gaite Lyrique
    Sat Feb 7 – Lyon @ Epicerie Moderne
    Sun Feb 8 – Milan @ Magnolia (main room) 
    Tue  Feb10 – Geneva @ Antigel Festival 2026
    Wed Feb 11 – Munich @ Hansa 39
    Thurs Feb 12 – Berlin @ Lido
    Sat Feb14 – Copenhagen @ DR Studie 2
    Sun Feb 15 – Hamburg @ Knust       
    Tues Feb 17 – Brussels @ AB Ballroom
    Wed Feb18 – Utrecht @ Tivoli Vredenburg (Pandora Hall)
    Thurs Feb 19  – Cologne @ Gebäude 9       
    Sat Feb 21 – Dublin 1 @ The Academy Dublin
    Sun Feb 22- Manchester @ Band on the Wall         
    Tues Feb 24 – Glasgow @ The Art School   
    Thurs Feb 26  – Bristol @ Electric Bristol
    Fri Feb 27 – London @ Hackney Church
    Sat Mar 7- Seattle, WA @ The Showbox
    Sun Mar 8- Portland, OR @ Revolution Hall
    Wed Mar 11- Felton, CA @ Felton Music Hall
    Thurs Mar 12- San Francisco, CA @ The Fillmore
    Fri Mar 13 – Los Angeles, CA @ Lodge Room
    Sat Mar 14 – Los Angeles, CA @ Lodge Room
    Tues April 7 – Kingston, NY @ Assembly
    Wed April 8 – Brooklyn, NY @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
    Thurs April 9 – Brooklyn, NY @ Music Hall of Williamsburg
    Fri April 10 – Cambridge, MA @ The Sinclair
    Sat, April 11 – Cambridge, MA @ The Sinclair
    Sun April 12 – Portland, ME @ The State Theatre
    Tues April 14 – Ardmore, PA @ Ardmore Music Hall
    Wed April 15 – Washington DC @ 9:30 Club
    Thurs Apr 16 – Pittsburgh, PA @ Thunderbird Cafe
    Fri April 17 – Toronto, ON @ The Concert Hall
    Sat April 18 – Montreal, QC @ Théâtre Beanfield

    #INDIE #INDIEPOP #MUSIC #NEWS #WHITNEY

  10. A quotation from Adlai Stevenson

    Though progress may be slow, it may be steady and sure. A wise man does not try to hurry history. Many wars have been avoided by patience and many have been precipitated by reckless haste.

    Adlai Stevenson (1900-1965) American diplomat, statesman
    Speech (1952-09-09), “World Policy,” Veterans Memorial Auditorium, San Francisco, California

    More info about this quote: wist.info/stevenson-adlai-ewin…

    #quote #quotes #quotation #qotd #adlaistevenson #foreignaffairs #foreignrelations #haste #history #internationalaffairs #internationalrelations #patience #peacemaking #progress #recklessness #war

  11. A quotation from Adlai Stevenson

    Though progress may be slow, it may be steady and sure. A wise man does not try to hurry history. Many wars have been avoided by patience and many have been precipitated by reckless haste.

    Adlai Stevenson (1900-1965) American diplomat, statesman
    Speech (1952-09-09), “World Policy,” Veterans Memorial Auditorium, San Francisco, California

    More info about this quote: wist.info/stevenson-adlai-ewin…

    #quote #quotes #quotation #qotd #adlaistevenson #foreignaffairs #foreignrelations #haste #history #internationalaffairs #internationalrelations #patience #peacemaking #progress #recklessness #war

  12. SIGUE ⬇️

    ¿Héroe o villano?

    Depende de a quién preguntes.

    Para muchos en Serbia, fue un símbolo de resistencia.
    Para el resto del mundo, el hombre que apretó el gatillo que acabó llevando a la muerte a millones.

    La historia no siempre da respuestas cómodas.

    La tragedia que vino después: los hijos

    La historia no terminó en Sarajevo.

    Los hijos de Francisco Fernando y Sofía —Sofía, Maximiliano y Ernesto— quedaron en una posición incómoda desde el primer momento.
    Por el matrimonio de sus padres, no tenían derechos dinásticos ni encajaban en la corte.

    Fueron apartados y criados lejos de Viena.

    Y décadas después, el siglo volvió a alcanzarlos.

    Durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial, Maximiliano y Ernesto se opusieron al nazismo.
    Eso bastó para que acabaran en el campo de concentración de Dachau, donde sufrieron humillaciones y trabajos forzados.

    Sobrevivieron, pero quedaron marcados físicamente para siempre.

    Es difícil no ver la ironía: los hijos del hombre cuya muerte inició la Primera Guerra Mundial acabaron siendo víctimas directas de la segunda.

    Sus padres, por cierto, tampoco descansan con los Habsburgo en Viena.
    Están enterrados juntos en el castillo de Artstetten, lejos de las normas que en vida los separaron.

    Al final, lo que ocurrió en Sarajevo no fue un plan perfecto ni una conspiración impecable.

    Fue algo mucho más inquietante.

    Una cadena de decisiones humanas, errores y coincidencias que, encajadas en el momento justo, cambiaron el rumbo del siglo XX.

    Y eso es lo que da más vértigo.

    ▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

    𝘌𝘴𝘵𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘪́𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢, 𝘤𝘶𝘺𝘰 𝘵𝘪́𝘵𝘶𝘭𝘰 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘫𝘦𝘷𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵 (𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥), 𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰 𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘫𝘦𝘷𝘰.

    ▪️𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘝𝘦𝘭𝘫𝘬𝘰 𝘉𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘫𝘪ć, 𝘶𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰́𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘺 𝘣𝘦́𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘴.

    ▪️𝘈𝘯̃𝘰: 𝘍𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘢 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘯 1975 (𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰́𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘰 1974 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘰́𝘯).

    ▪️𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴:

    𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳: 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘭 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰 𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰.
    𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘉𝘰𝘭𝘬𝘢𝘯: 𝘋𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘋𝘶𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘢 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘪́𝘢 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘬.
    𝘔𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭: 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢 𝘢 𝘋𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤.
    𝘐𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳: 𝘌𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢 𝘢 𝘎𝘢𝘷𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱, 𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘴.
    𝘙𝘢𝘥𝘰š 𝘉𝘢𝘫𝘪ć: 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘰 𝘕𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘫𝘬𝘰 Č𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘪ć.

    𝘓𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘪́𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘢 𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘦́𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘫𝘦𝘷𝘰

    youtu.be/HmSeD5l_0fg

    #historia #primeraguerramundial #sarajevo #franciscofernando #gavriloprincip #sigloxx #historiareal #curiosidadeshistoricas #europa #granguerra

  13. #Palestine-Action a ciblé #DSV à #San-Francisco dans le cadre d’une action internationale contre la société. #DSV transporte des armes pour le plus grand producteur d’armes #d’Israël, #Elbit-Systems, les rendant complices du génocide. #PALESTINE-ONLINE

  14. SPAN, a San Francisco startup, is piloting a distributed data centre solution where households host XFRA nodes with liquid-cooled Nvidia RTX Pro 6000 Blackwell GPUs. Residents receive subsidised electricity and Internet access, with a 100-home trial planned for this year. arstechnica.com/ai/2026/05/the #AIinfrastructure #AI #GenAI

  15. 3) “The #GOP #republicans #maga presents #crime as a simple problem to fix,” wrote FrameLab co-author Gil Duran in The San Francisco Examiner. “Just flood the streets with #police and impose #draconian sentences for even low-level offenses. But there’s a major glitch in the narrative: #Republican states tend to have higher rates of #violent #crime than #Democratic states.” theframelab.org/why-do-republi #Facts Not #lies #maga #mobilize the base against #blue state residents #brown #black #women #girls

  16. 3) “The #GOP #republicans #maga presents #crime as a simple problem to fix,” wrote FrameLab co-author Gil Duran in The San Francisco Examiner. “Just flood the streets with #police and impose #draconian sentences for even low-level offenses. But there’s a major glitch in the narrative: #Republican states tend to have higher rates of #violent #crime than #Democratic states.” theframelab.org/why-do-republi #Facts Not #lies #maga #mobilize the base against #blue state residents #brown #black #women #girls

  17. “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious”*…

    Henri Matisse, View of Notre Dame, 1914, oil on canvas, 58 x 37 ⅛ in, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

    Eminent art critic and historian Hal Foster has started what will be a four-part series in The Paris Review on looking at– and seeing– art…

    Many of us look at art in the company of others; I have done so with a close friend, off and on, for five decades. We meet at a museum, wander around, settle on a painting (or, rather, it settles on us), look, talk, look more, talk more. We attend to the work and to each other; we enter its world together. Only recently and rarely have we written up our reactions, which we do individually. A testament to our friendship, this writing is also a tribute to the art, to the discursivity that informs it and the sociability that it allows. 

    Paintings call out to us in myriad ways. My friend and I are most drawn to pictures that are reflexive about looking, that anticipate it, that sharpen it, that alter our habits of seeing. This may be a Modernist criterion, but it hardly disqualifies older art; we have ranged as far back as Early Netherlandish painting. In this selection, though, I focus on pictures that date from the past hundred and fifty years. (For better or worse, that’s also my academic field.)  

    My aim in this exercise isn’t to tease out context, which is almost too present in wall texts today. Immediacy may be a mirage, but I try to come to my chosen works as directly as possible. It’s not that I ignore the texts on the walls; I just don’t get stuck there. I don’t pretend to see with a “period eye,” as Michael Baxandall called the attempt to perceive as historical viewers may have. Contextual information may often be necessary, but I keep it at a useful minimum. And though I sometimes get speculative, that’s part of the fun. In fact, one purpose of these studies is to be loosened from my scholarly superego (which isn’t very strong, in any case). I want to demystify the viewing of art a little, not to deskill it exactly, but to suggest that anyone can do it. Ignorant Art History is a big tent.

    Looking at a painting is a welcome respite from scanning a screen. In that sense, this exercise is reactive: I labor in the small cottage industry of attention that has sprouted up in the cracks of the massive complex of distraction all around us. A phenomenological turn often occurs at times of intensive mediation, but the point is not simply to have our perceptions mirrored back to us. T. J. Clark has put the aim nicely: “When I am in front of a picture the thing I most want is to enter the picture’s world: it is the possibility of doing so that makes pictures worth looking at for me.” To look at a painting is also to exit our world for a while, and then to return to it cast in a different—distant—light. The time travel is often wonderful, and almost free… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: An Introduction

    The first of his short essays, on the Matisse pictured above, just dropped…

    … As we approach this painting, we have little idea of what it depicts, or whether it depicts anything at all. A washy blue covers the entire surface unevenly, and its space is traversed by several black vectors. A vertical line stretches the length of the canvas on the far right, where it intersects with two horizontal lines that cut across the center of the picture. In the lower half of the painting, three diagonal lines run roughly parallel to one another, also toward the right.

    The main motif floats in the top third of the painting. Outlined heavily in black, its interior is made up of the same blue as elsewhere except for one white blotch and a few black planes, scratched to reveal the white underneath. Three thin, white planes also appear in the interior, each crossed with a horizontal black stripe; the central plane divides the space in two. 

    All this is hard to sort out, and two more pieces on the right—a green blob beside a black one—only add to the puzzle. It is a complicated painting, but its complication is borne of simplicity. Completed in 1914, at the beginning of World War I, it is an austere work in an austere time. 

    The title offers a kind of lifeline: View of Notre Dame. But what kind of view and from where? And what are all the black lines? Neither abstract nor representational, the painting requires a shift in our way of looking: its elements are less images of things than signs for them. 

    We know that the Notre-Dame sits on the western end of the Île de la Cité in Paris. So the three diagonals might signify the quai along the Left Bank, the low path alongside the Seine, and the great river. The two horizontal lines then read as a bridge over the Seine, and the slight curve underneath them as its arched support. Finally, the long vertical line serves as the near edge of the quai, or perhaps of the very building from which the view is taken. The angles suggest that we look down on the scene from a Left Bank apartment several floors up. The overall blue signifies air and water where that seems appropriate, and anything else (or nothing at all) where it does not. 

    How does the squarish motif convey the famous cathedral? If the bisected shape suggests the two great towers, the white plane between them might evoke the rose window. Since we view the cathedral from the Left Bank, it appears turned away from us slightly, its south side more exposed. If the black areas register the sides of the building in deep shadow, the white ones might signify the play of light across the facade. And the blobs in green and black? The green could be a plant, and the black its shadow. 

    The pieces don’t add up completely or neatly. But then signification is about signaling-just-enough rather than representing-in-full. Here, seeing is guesswork. It often is elsewhere, too; we just don’t acknowledge it. Sometimes a sign doesn’t signify and sometimes it suggests more than one thing. The diagonals evoke both the quai and the river; the black areas convey a material thing here and an immaterial shadow there. 

    Around this time, Matisse kept a studio above the quai Saint-Michel. Might View of Notre Dame double as a view of the interior from which it was painted? In that case, the Paris cathedral is also a French window, with blue sky and white clouds seen in or through the glass; the green shrub is also a plant on the sill; the lines of the bridge are also the molding in the room; and—who knows?—the diagonals of the bank are also the easel on which this very painting was produced… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: View of Notre Dame

    The remaining three installments will drop weekly into May.

    * “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” – Albert Einstein

    ###

    As we appreciate art, we might recall that on this date in 1808, at the outbreak of the Peninsular War, the people of Madrid rose up in rebellion against French occupation. 

    In 1814, Francisco de Goya memorialized the event in his painting The Second of May 1808.

    source

    #art #artCriticism #artHistory #culture #Goya #HalFoster #history #Madrid #Matisse #Napoleon #PeninsularWar #TheChargeOfTheMamelukes #TheIgnorantArtHistorian #TheSecondOfMay1808
  18. “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious”*…

    Henri Matisse, View of Notre Dame, 1914, oil on canvas, 58 x 37 ⅛ in, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

    Eminent art critic and historian Hal Foster has started what will be a four-part series in The Paris Review on looking at– and seeing– art…

    Many of us look at art in the company of others; I have done so with a close friend, off and on, for five decades. We meet at a museum, wander around, settle on a painting (or, rather, it settles on us), look, talk, look more, talk more. We attend to the work and to each other; we enter its world together. Only recently and rarely have we written up our reactions, which we do individually. A testament to our friendship, this writing is also a tribute to the art, to the discursivity that informs it and the sociability that it allows. 

    Paintings call out to us in myriad ways. My friend and I are most drawn to pictures that are reflexive about looking, that anticipate it, that sharpen it, that alter our habits of seeing. This may be a Modernist criterion, but it hardly disqualifies older art; we have ranged as far back as Early Netherlandish painting. In this selection, though, I focus on pictures that date from the past hundred and fifty years. (For better or worse, that’s also my academic field.)  

    My aim in this exercise isn’t to tease out context, which is almost too present in wall texts today. Immediacy may be a mirage, but I try to come to my chosen works as directly as possible. It’s not that I ignore the texts on the walls; I just don’t get stuck there. I don’t pretend to see with a “period eye,” as Michael Baxandall called the attempt to perceive as historical viewers may have. Contextual information may often be necessary, but I keep it at a useful minimum. And though I sometimes get speculative, that’s part of the fun. In fact, one purpose of these studies is to be loosened from my scholarly superego (which isn’t very strong, in any case). I want to demystify the viewing of art a little, not to deskill it exactly, but to suggest that anyone can do it. Ignorant Art History is a big tent.

    Looking at a painting is a welcome respite from scanning a screen. In that sense, this exercise is reactive: I labor in the small cottage industry of attention that has sprouted up in the cracks of the massive complex of distraction all around us. A phenomenological turn often occurs at times of intensive mediation, but the point is not simply to have our perceptions mirrored back to us. T. J. Clark has put the aim nicely: “When I am in front of a picture the thing I most want is to enter the picture’s world: it is the possibility of doing so that makes pictures worth looking at for me.” To look at a painting is also to exit our world for a while, and then to return to it cast in a different—distant—light. The time travel is often wonderful, and almost free… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: An Introduction

    The first of his short essays, on the Matisse pictured above, just dropped…

    … As we approach this painting, we have little idea of what it depicts, or whether it depicts anything at all. A washy blue covers the entire surface unevenly, and its space is traversed by several black vectors. A vertical line stretches the length of the canvas on the far right, where it intersects with two horizontal lines that cut across the center of the picture. In the lower half of the painting, three diagonal lines run roughly parallel to one another, also toward the right.

    The main motif floats in the top third of the painting. Outlined heavily in black, its interior is made up of the same blue as elsewhere except for one white blotch and a few black planes, scratched to reveal the white underneath. Three thin, white planes also appear in the interior, each crossed with a horizontal black stripe; the central plane divides the space in two. 

    All this is hard to sort out, and two more pieces on the right—a green blob beside a black one—only add to the puzzle. It is a complicated painting, but its complication is borne of simplicity. Completed in 1914, at the beginning of World War I, it is an austere work in an austere time. 

    The title offers a kind of lifeline: View of Notre Dame. But what kind of view and from where? And what are all the black lines? Neither abstract nor representational, the painting requires a shift in our way of looking: its elements are less images of things than signs for them. 

    We know that the Notre-Dame sits on the western end of the Île de la Cité in Paris. So the three diagonals might signify the quai along the Left Bank, the low path alongside the Seine, and the great river. The two horizontal lines then read as a bridge over the Seine, and the slight curve underneath them as its arched support. Finally, the long vertical line serves as the near edge of the quai, or perhaps of the very building from which the view is taken. The angles suggest that we look down on the scene from a Left Bank apartment several floors up. The overall blue signifies air and water where that seems appropriate, and anything else (or nothing at all) where it does not. 

    How does the squarish motif convey the famous cathedral? If the bisected shape suggests the two great towers, the white plane between them might evoke the rose window. Since we view the cathedral from the Left Bank, it appears turned away from us slightly, its south side more exposed. If the black areas register the sides of the building in deep shadow, the white ones might signify the play of light across the facade. And the blobs in green and black? The green could be a plant, and the black its shadow. 

    The pieces don’t add up completely or neatly. But then signification is about signaling-just-enough rather than representing-in-full. Here, seeing is guesswork. It often is elsewhere, too; we just don’t acknowledge it. Sometimes a sign doesn’t signify and sometimes it suggests more than one thing. The diagonals evoke both the quai and the river; the black areas convey a material thing here and an immaterial shadow there. 

    Around this time, Matisse kept a studio above the quai Saint-Michel. Might View of Notre Dame double as a view of the interior from which it was painted? In that case, the Paris cathedral is also a French window, with blue sky and white clouds seen in or through the glass; the green shrub is also a plant on the sill; the lines of the bridge are also the molding in the room; and—who knows?—the diagonals of the bank are also the easel on which this very painting was produced… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: View of Notre Dame

    The remaining three installments will drop weekly into May.

    * “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” – Albert Einstein

    ###

    As we appreciate art, we might recall that on this date in 1808, at the outbreak of the Peninsular War, the people of Madrid rose up in rebellion against French occupation. 

    In 1814, Francisco de Goya memorialized the event in his painting The Second of May 1808.

    source

    #art #artCriticism #artHistory #culture #Goya #HalFoster #history #Madrid #Matisse #Napoleon #PeninsularWar #TheChargeOfTheMamelukes #TheIgnorantArtHistorian #TheSecondOfMay1808
  19. “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious”*…

    Henri Matisse, View of Notre Dame, 1914, oil on canvas, 58 x 37 ⅛ in, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

    Eminent art critic and historian Hal Foster has started what will be a four-part series in The Paris Review on looking at– and seeing– art…

    Many of us look at art in the company of others; I have done so with a close friend, off and on, for five decades. We meet at a museum, wander around, settle on a painting (or, rather, it settles on us), look, talk, look more, talk more. We attend to the work and to each other; we enter its world together. Only recently and rarely have we written up our reactions, which we do individually. A testament to our friendship, this writing is also a tribute to the art, to the discursivity that informs it and the sociability that it allows. 

    Paintings call out to us in myriad ways. My friend and I are most drawn to pictures that are reflexive about looking, that anticipate it, that sharpen it, that alter our habits of seeing. This may be a Modernist criterion, but it hardly disqualifies older art; we have ranged as far back as Early Netherlandish painting. In this selection, though, I focus on pictures that date from the past hundred and fifty years. (For better or worse, that’s also my academic field.)  

    My aim in this exercise isn’t to tease out context, which is almost too present in wall texts today. Immediacy may be a mirage, but I try to come to my chosen works as directly as possible. It’s not that I ignore the texts on the walls; I just don’t get stuck there. I don’t pretend to see with a “period eye,” as Michael Baxandall called the attempt to perceive as historical viewers may have. Contextual information may often be necessary, but I keep it at a useful minimum. And though I sometimes get speculative, that’s part of the fun. In fact, one purpose of these studies is to be loosened from my scholarly superego (which isn’t very strong, in any case). I want to demystify the viewing of art a little, not to deskill it exactly, but to suggest that anyone can do it. Ignorant Art History is a big tent.

    Looking at a painting is a welcome respite from scanning a screen. In that sense, this exercise is reactive: I labor in the small cottage industry of attention that has sprouted up in the cracks of the massive complex of distraction all around us. A phenomenological turn often occurs at times of intensive mediation, but the point is not simply to have our perceptions mirrored back to us. T. J. Clark has put the aim nicely: “When I am in front of a picture the thing I most want is to enter the picture’s world: it is the possibility of doing so that makes pictures worth looking at for me.” To look at a painting is also to exit our world for a while, and then to return to it cast in a different—distant—light. The time travel is often wonderful, and almost free… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: An Introduction

    The first of his short essays, on the Matisse pictured above, just dropped…

    … As we approach this painting, we have little idea of what it depicts, or whether it depicts anything at all. A washy blue covers the entire surface unevenly, and its space is traversed by several black vectors. A vertical line stretches the length of the canvas on the far right, where it intersects with two horizontal lines that cut across the center of the picture. In the lower half of the painting, three diagonal lines run roughly parallel to one another, also toward the right.

    The main motif floats in the top third of the painting. Outlined heavily in black, its interior is made up of the same blue as elsewhere except for one white blotch and a few black planes, scratched to reveal the white underneath. Three thin, white planes also appear in the interior, each crossed with a horizontal black stripe; the central plane divides the space in two. 

    All this is hard to sort out, and two more pieces on the right—a green blob beside a black one—only add to the puzzle. It is a complicated painting, but its complication is borne of simplicity. Completed in 1914, at the beginning of World War I, it is an austere work in an austere time. 

    The title offers a kind of lifeline: View of Notre Dame. But what kind of view and from where? And what are all the black lines? Neither abstract nor representational, the painting requires a shift in our way of looking: its elements are less images of things than signs for them. 

    We know that the Notre-Dame sits on the western end of the Île de la Cité in Paris. So the three diagonals might signify the quai along the Left Bank, the low path alongside the Seine, and the great river. The two horizontal lines then read as a bridge over the Seine, and the slight curve underneath them as its arched support. Finally, the long vertical line serves as the near edge of the quai, or perhaps of the very building from which the view is taken. The angles suggest that we look down on the scene from a Left Bank apartment several floors up. The overall blue signifies air and water where that seems appropriate, and anything else (or nothing at all) where it does not. 

    How does the squarish motif convey the famous cathedral? If the bisected shape suggests the two great towers, the white plane between them might evoke the rose window. Since we view the cathedral from the Left Bank, it appears turned away from us slightly, its south side more exposed. If the black areas register the sides of the building in deep shadow, the white ones might signify the play of light across the facade. And the blobs in green and black? The green could be a plant, and the black its shadow. 

    The pieces don’t add up completely or neatly. But then signification is about signaling-just-enough rather than representing-in-full. Here, seeing is guesswork. It often is elsewhere, too; we just don’t acknowledge it. Sometimes a sign doesn’t signify and sometimes it suggests more than one thing. The diagonals evoke both the quai and the river; the black areas convey a material thing here and an immaterial shadow there. 

    Around this time, Matisse kept a studio above the quai Saint-Michel. Might View of Notre Dame double as a view of the interior from which it was painted? In that case, the Paris cathedral is also a French window, with blue sky and white clouds seen in or through the glass; the green shrub is also a plant on the sill; the lines of the bridge are also the molding in the room; and—who knows?—the diagonals of the bank are also the easel on which this very painting was produced… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: View of Notre Dame

    The remaining three installments will drop weekly into May.

    * “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” – Albert Einstein

    ###

    As we appreciate art, we might recall that on this date in 1808, at the outbreak of the Peninsular War, the people of Madrid rose up in rebellion against French occupation. 

    In 1814, Francisco de Goya memorialized the event in his painting The Second of May 1808.

    source

    #art #artCriticism #artHistory #culture #Goya #HalFoster #history #Madrid #Matisse #Napoleon #PeninsularWar #TheChargeOfTheMamelukes #TheIgnorantArtHistorian #TheSecondOfMay1808
  20. “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious”*…

    Henri Matisse, View of Notre Dame, 1914, oil on canvas, 58 x 37 ⅛ in, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

    Eminent art critic and historian Hal Foster has started what will be a four-part series in The Paris Review on looking at– and seeing– art…

    Many of us look at art in the company of others; I have done so with a close friend, off and on, for five decades. We meet at a museum, wander around, settle on a painting (or, rather, it settles on us), look, talk, look more, talk more. We attend to the work and to each other; we enter its world together. Only recently and rarely have we written up our reactions, which we do individually. A testament to our friendship, this writing is also a tribute to the art, to the discursivity that informs it and the sociability that it allows. 

    Paintings call out to us in myriad ways. My friend and I are most drawn to pictures that are reflexive about looking, that anticipate it, that sharpen it, that alter our habits of seeing. This may be a Modernist criterion, but it hardly disqualifies older art; we have ranged as far back as Early Netherlandish painting. In this selection, though, I focus on pictures that date from the past hundred and fifty years. (For better or worse, that’s also my academic field.)  

    My aim in this exercise isn’t to tease out context, which is almost too present in wall texts today. Immediacy may be a mirage, but I try to come to my chosen works as directly as possible. It’s not that I ignore the texts on the walls; I just don’t get stuck there. I don’t pretend to see with a “period eye,” as Michael Baxandall called the attempt to perceive as historical viewers may have. Contextual information may often be necessary, but I keep it at a useful minimum. And though I sometimes get speculative, that’s part of the fun. In fact, one purpose of these studies is to be loosened from my scholarly superego (which isn’t very strong, in any case). I want to demystify the viewing of art a little, not to deskill it exactly, but to suggest that anyone can do it. Ignorant Art History is a big tent.

    Looking at a painting is a welcome respite from scanning a screen. In that sense, this exercise is reactive: I labor in the small cottage industry of attention that has sprouted up in the cracks of the massive complex of distraction all around us. A phenomenological turn often occurs at times of intensive mediation, but the point is not simply to have our perceptions mirrored back to us. T. J. Clark has put the aim nicely: “When I am in front of a picture the thing I most want is to enter the picture’s world: it is the possibility of doing so that makes pictures worth looking at for me.” To look at a painting is also to exit our world for a while, and then to return to it cast in a different—distant—light. The time travel is often wonderful, and almost free… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: An Introduction

    The first of his short essays, on the Matisse pictured above, just dropped…

    … As we approach this painting, we have little idea of what it depicts, or whether it depicts anything at all. A washy blue covers the entire surface unevenly, and its space is traversed by several black vectors. A vertical line stretches the length of the canvas on the far right, where it intersects with two horizontal lines that cut across the center of the picture. In the lower half of the painting, three diagonal lines run roughly parallel to one another, also toward the right.

    The main motif floats in the top third of the painting. Outlined heavily in black, its interior is made up of the same blue as elsewhere except for one white blotch and a few black planes, scratched to reveal the white underneath. Three thin, white planes also appear in the interior, each crossed with a horizontal black stripe; the central plane divides the space in two. 

    All this is hard to sort out, and two more pieces on the right—a green blob beside a black one—only add to the puzzle. It is a complicated painting, but its complication is borne of simplicity. Completed in 1914, at the beginning of World War I, it is an austere work in an austere time. 

    The title offers a kind of lifeline: View of Notre Dame. But what kind of view and from where? And what are all the black lines? Neither abstract nor representational, the painting requires a shift in our way of looking: its elements are less images of things than signs for them. 

    We know that the Notre-Dame sits on the western end of the Île de la Cité in Paris. So the three diagonals might signify the quai along the Left Bank, the low path alongside the Seine, and the great river. The two horizontal lines then read as a bridge over the Seine, and the slight curve underneath them as its arched support. Finally, the long vertical line serves as the near edge of the quai, or perhaps of the very building from which the view is taken. The angles suggest that we look down on the scene from a Left Bank apartment several floors up. The overall blue signifies air and water where that seems appropriate, and anything else (or nothing at all) where it does not. 

    How does the squarish motif convey the famous cathedral? If the bisected shape suggests the two great towers, the white plane between them might evoke the rose window. Since we view the cathedral from the Left Bank, it appears turned away from us slightly, its south side more exposed. If the black areas register the sides of the building in deep shadow, the white ones might signify the play of light across the facade. And the blobs in green and black? The green could be a plant, and the black its shadow. 

    The pieces don’t add up completely or neatly. But then signification is about signaling-just-enough rather than representing-in-full. Here, seeing is guesswork. It often is elsewhere, too; we just don’t acknowledge it. Sometimes a sign doesn’t signify and sometimes it suggests more than one thing. The diagonals evoke both the quai and the river; the black areas convey a material thing here and an immaterial shadow there. 

    Around this time, Matisse kept a studio above the quai Saint-Michel. Might View of Notre Dame double as a view of the interior from which it was painted? In that case, the Paris cathedral is also a French window, with blue sky and white clouds seen in or through the glass; the green shrub is also a plant on the sill; the lines of the bridge are also the molding in the room; and—who knows?—the diagonals of the bank are also the easel on which this very painting was produced… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: View of Notre Dame

    The remaining three installments will drop weekly into May.

    * “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” – Albert Einstein

    ###

    As we appreciate art, we might recall that on this date in 1808, at the outbreak of the Peninsular War, the people of Madrid rose up in rebellion against French occupation. 

    In 1814, Francisco de Goya memorialized the event in his painting The Second of May 1808.

    source

    #art #artCriticism #artHistory #culture #Goya #HalFoster #history #Madrid #Matisse #Napoleon #PeninsularWar #TheChargeOfTheMamelukes #TheIgnorantArtHistorian #TheSecondOfMay1808
  21. “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious”*…

    Henri Matisse, View of Notre Dame, 1914, oil on canvas, 58 x 37 ⅛ in, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

    Eminent art critic and historian Hal Foster has started what will be a four-part series in The Paris Review on looking at– and seeing– art…

    Many of us look at art in the company of others; I have done so with a close friend, off and on, for five decades. We meet at a museum, wander around, settle on a painting (or, rather, it settles on us), look, talk, look more, talk more. We attend to the work and to each other; we enter its world together. Only recently and rarely have we written up our reactions, which we do individually. A testament to our friendship, this writing is also a tribute to the art, to the discursivity that informs it and the sociability that it allows. 

    Paintings call out to us in myriad ways. My friend and I are most drawn to pictures that are reflexive about looking, that anticipate it, that sharpen it, that alter our habits of seeing. This may be a Modernist criterion, but it hardly disqualifies older art; we have ranged as far back as Early Netherlandish painting. In this selection, though, I focus on pictures that date from the past hundred and fifty years. (For better or worse, that’s also my academic field.)  

    My aim in this exercise isn’t to tease out context, which is almost too present in wall texts today. Immediacy may be a mirage, but I try to come to my chosen works as directly as possible. It’s not that I ignore the texts on the walls; I just don’t get stuck there. I don’t pretend to see with a “period eye,” as Michael Baxandall called the attempt to perceive as historical viewers may have. Contextual information may often be necessary, but I keep it at a useful minimum. And though I sometimes get speculative, that’s part of the fun. In fact, one purpose of these studies is to be loosened from my scholarly superego (which isn’t very strong, in any case). I want to demystify the viewing of art a little, not to deskill it exactly, but to suggest that anyone can do it. Ignorant Art History is a big tent.

    Looking at a painting is a welcome respite from scanning a screen. In that sense, this exercise is reactive: I labor in the small cottage industry of attention that has sprouted up in the cracks of the massive complex of distraction all around us. A phenomenological turn often occurs at times of intensive mediation, but the point is not simply to have our perceptions mirrored back to us. T. J. Clark has put the aim nicely: “When I am in front of a picture the thing I most want is to enter the picture’s world: it is the possibility of doing so that makes pictures worth looking at for me.” To look at a painting is also to exit our world for a while, and then to return to it cast in a different—distant—light. The time travel is often wonderful, and almost free… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: An Introduction

    The first of his short essays, on the Matisse pictured above, just dropped…

    … As we approach this painting, we have little idea of what it depicts, or whether it depicts anything at all. A washy blue covers the entire surface unevenly, and its space is traversed by several black vectors. A vertical line stretches the length of the canvas on the far right, where it intersects with two horizontal lines that cut across the center of the picture. In the lower half of the painting, three diagonal lines run roughly parallel to one another, also toward the right.

    The main motif floats in the top third of the painting. Outlined heavily in black, its interior is made up of the same blue as elsewhere except for one white blotch and a few black planes, scratched to reveal the white underneath. Three thin, white planes also appear in the interior, each crossed with a horizontal black stripe; the central plane divides the space in two. 

    All this is hard to sort out, and two more pieces on the right—a green blob beside a black one—only add to the puzzle. It is a complicated painting, but its complication is borne of simplicity. Completed in 1914, at the beginning of World War I, it is an austere work in an austere time. 

    The title offers a kind of lifeline: View of Notre Dame. But what kind of view and from where? And what are all the black lines? Neither abstract nor representational, the painting requires a shift in our way of looking: its elements are less images of things than signs for them. 

    We know that the Notre-Dame sits on the western end of the Île de la Cité in Paris. So the three diagonals might signify the quai along the Left Bank, the low path alongside the Seine, and the great river. The two horizontal lines then read as a bridge over the Seine, and the slight curve underneath them as its arched support. Finally, the long vertical line serves as the near edge of the quai, or perhaps of the very building from which the view is taken. The angles suggest that we look down on the scene from a Left Bank apartment several floors up. The overall blue signifies air and water where that seems appropriate, and anything else (or nothing at all) where it does not. 

    How does the squarish motif convey the famous cathedral? If the bisected shape suggests the two great towers, the white plane between them might evoke the rose window. Since we view the cathedral from the Left Bank, it appears turned away from us slightly, its south side more exposed. If the black areas register the sides of the building in deep shadow, the white ones might signify the play of light across the facade. And the blobs in green and black? The green could be a plant, and the black its shadow. 

    The pieces don’t add up completely or neatly. But then signification is about signaling-just-enough rather than representing-in-full. Here, seeing is guesswork. It often is elsewhere, too; we just don’t acknowledge it. Sometimes a sign doesn’t signify and sometimes it suggests more than one thing. The diagonals evoke both the quai and the river; the black areas convey a material thing here and an immaterial shadow there. 

    Around this time, Matisse kept a studio above the quai Saint-Michel. Might View of Notre Dame double as a view of the interior from which it was painted? In that case, the Paris cathedral is also a French window, with blue sky and white clouds seen in or through the glass; the green shrub is also a plant on the sill; the lines of the bridge are also the molding in the room; and—who knows?—the diagonals of the bank are also the easel on which this very painting was produced… 

    – “The Ignorant Art Historian: View of Notre Dame

    The remaining three installments will drop weekly into May.

    * “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” – Albert Einstein

    ###

    As we appreciate art, we might recall that on this date in 1808, at the outbreak of the Peninsular War, the people of Madrid rose up in rebellion against French occupation. 

    In 1814, Francisco de Goya memorialized the event in his painting The Second of May 1808.

    source

    #art #artCriticism #artHistory #culture #Goya #HalFoster #history #Madrid #Matisse #Napoleon #PeninsularWar #TheChargeOfTheMamelukes #TheIgnorantArtHistorian #TheSecondOfMay1808
  22. Best Italian food and restaurants in SF Bay Area

    James Beard award-winning sommelier and A16 owner Shelley Lindgren has put together a singular wine list for the restaurant, which has two casual locations, in San Francisco and in the Rockridge neighborhood of Oakland established in 2004 and 2013, respect…
    #dining #cooking #diet #food #Italianbistrofood #bistrofood #Italia #Italian #italiano #italy #tops
    diningandcooking.com/2557855/b