Studio Basilicata is located in the Dirupo district of Pisticci, a small town in the province of Matera . All the little houses in Dirupo were built after an earthquake in 1688 destroyed part of the town. Rather than move somewhere else the people set to and built rows of identical little white houses at the bottom of the landslide on top of the rubble. It is listed in a hundred places of particular interest in Italy as an example of peasant architecture.
I think it is the most delightful place and more like a film set than a thriving community.My studio, where I paint most days, is near a small church and in a cul de sac with views over the valley and to the mountains. When i arrive on my scooter in the morning I ride through narrow streets barely wide enough for one car and then turn the corner and park at my door. Usually the studio is quiet, the only sounds being the bells from the nearby ""chiesa madre"" and some dogs barking. though there are horses, hens and goats around somewhere. If its a good day I open both doors and the thin net curtains blow in the breeze.
I have two little houses , with a narrow connecting door. One part is a bedroom/living room and a gallery, and then going through the doorway( walls are at least three foot thick) I am in the other part which has not been built up and has a sloping tiled roof and an attic platform. This is where I paint, near the door. I rarely use electric light even in the winter.
Some mornings I go for a walk up to the bar in the piazza, say "buon giorno!" , to lots of people , have a cappucino and stroll back, often with my camera. Sometimes I go to the post office and wait in a queue for 40 minutes to collect mail! Then on the way back, I might say Ciao to the mechanic who works round the corner and who's portrait I've just finished in lieu of payment for scooter repairs.
Then barring interruptions I get to work until lunch time when there is a shout from above and my very good neighbour Nella ,who lives two stories above, lowers down lunch in a plastic bag on the end of a piece of string. she has been doing this regularly for at least two years. Coffee afterwards; ice cream in summer.( the outstanding aspect of this area, notwithstanding the beauty is the kindness and friendliness of the people.)
After lunch I have never managed to have a siesta. So I carry on painting or sit on the doorstep and chat to my daughter in Scotland on the phone. Its very quiet. Around four people start to appear again. last week was Carnevale and around fourish I heard music and looked out. A group of folk musicians and dancers waved to me and then came down the street and gave a performance for an audience of one- me! It was surreal and another of the happenings which make my time here seem unreal.
Because I am near a little church , processions start off nearby and wind through the narrow streets. ( I was in one on Good Friday by accident once as a kind lady had hold of my arm and we spent three hours walking round Pisticci visiting all the churches. It was very moving.) Also the site where the town fireworks are let off is very close. I managed to stay awake this year for the last night of the "feste of san rocco" and they were spectacular as I was virtually underneath them.
By about 6pm I am thinking about going back to my house in the country. The street lights are on in the winter by now and the little white houses look even more romantic. In the summer little old ladies, all in black, are sitting on wooden chairs outside their doors in the streets, some in groups , others just watching. I love going for a walk and into town at this time, greeting people and enjoying the end of my working day. I am always , even after three year a little sad to leave.
I apologise if all this sounds hopelessly romantic and made up, but it's all true. I write a blog , called, "My life as a story", because that 's just how it feels.
