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August 2025

- The Leaning Tower of Pisa -

Travel begins in the mind – as an idea for destinations and routes. I wanted to paint the Leaning Tower of Pisa, my husband didn't want to drive the long distance by car. The decision to travel to Italy by train was quickly made. Why rush? A visit to our Swiss friends would be ideal – and perhaps I could take the opportunity to paint the Matterhorn. We had packed winter clothes in our luggage but were hoping we’d be lucky with the weather. One destination after another was already lining up in my mind, like pearls on a string. "Have you seen Milan Cathedral yet?" I asked Klaus. – "No." – "You absolutely must see it." We had both only been to Florence once: me fifty years ago with my school class, him 45 years ago for one day. We agreed: this time we would take our time.

“Are you going to find us a nice itinerary through Tuscany?" – As always, Klaus enjoyed planning our tour, finding train connections and booking accommodation. With each new idea, our anticipation grew. Travel is more than just movement – it's a way of life, a pendulum swing between tension and relaxation. Sometimes things run like clockwork, sometimes they don't. It's the same with painting. In Zermatt, thick clouds hung in the sky for two days, but on the third day the sun came out. I cheered inwardly and painted several pictures of the Matterhorn. The heat in the streets of Florence paralysed us, but our spirits were revived in the pleasantly temperate art museums. I would have loved to put down roots in Greve in Chianti – rolling hills, vineyards, old cypress trees, country houses in pine groves. A paradise for a plein air painter. But travelling means moving on. In San Gimignano, I had started a painting the evening before – in the morning, there were market stalls standing in the way. Annoying. But in Siena, I was lucky: I was able to paint the palazzo and piazza from the tiny balcony of a cocktail bar. Our route was full of cultural and scenic surprises – despite the heat, it was invigorating throughout. I only regretted one thing: that I had forgotten my swimsuit. When Klaus dived into the Mediterranean in Castiglione della Pescaia, I would have loved to jump in after him.

We quickly lost track of time. It felt as if we had been travelling for half an eternity when we finally reached our actual destination: Pisa. There I sat on the last day of the trip, on a stone bench, concentrating intently on drawing the contours and proportions of the world-famous monument. The sun was moving quickly, its light creeping closer to my shady spot. I felt dazed, like someone stranded on a small island in the middle of a sea of tourists. And at the same time, it was so funny to watch almost everyone positioning themselves in a special way for a souvenir photo with the landmark. The tower was actually quite crooked – and yet I had managed to make it look even more lopsided in my painting than it already is. “Look, Klaus, in my version it looks like it’s about to tip over.” – “It doesn't matter. It's not going to fall over." We laughed and my bad mood was gone. It's simply true: whether travelling independently or painting in nature, the golden rule of taking things in your stride always applies, as does the simple principle that the journey is the destination.

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