Oranges and its trees, Spain, part 2.

ArtTravel

Urban sketching and Still life. Travel and Art.

Do you like the smell of oranges as I like it? Sweetish, light, slightly tart and such a sunny smell of orange peel.

Still life with oranges. The oranges were not harmed. The painting took forever.

Oranges remind me about the sunny summer days and New Year’s eve at the same time—which is a bit confusing if you think about it. My mom used to put these little bright balls on the Christmas trees as additional decorations. Later we ate the oranges (because what else would you do with fruit on a Christmas tree?), and the smell was the mixture of summer’s aroma and pine needles’ smell. It was like someone blended vacation and holidays into one delicious, contradictory scent. Such a holiday feeling from these fruits—honestly, oranges deserve a marketing team.

More oranges. Yes, there’s a theme.

This spring we are on hold for travelling (thanks for that, world). I continue “flying” through our family images via my paintings—which is a fancy way of saying I’ve become a professional procrastinator with a paintbrush. My paintings are the versions of some summer photos in Spain, because apparently traveling through a screen is the new normal. Spanish cities have whole alleys of orange trees. I mean, entire streets of them. It’s like someone took a nature documentary and just… paved over it.

Spain called. It smelled like citrus.

Orange paradises with the smell of flowering orange trees are in the cities and their gardens: Barcelona, Cordoba, Madrid, Seville… If you’re looking for a reason to visit Spain besides the architecture, paella, and charming people, well, here it is—an entire country that smells like a delightful citrus dream. Seriously, they should bottle this and sell it as an air freshener. “Spanish Orange Bliss: Guaranteed to make your commute more bearable.”

Painted in Spain. Eaten shortly after.
Cordoba: where the streets are paved with orange trees and good decisions.

There are many interesting legends associated with the orange. One of them claims that it was not an apple, but an orange, that was the forbidden fruit that served as the reason for the expulsion of our ancestors from paradise. Think about it—if Adam and Eve had just been offered an apple like the biblical told us, fine. But an orange? That’s oddly specific. And honestly? If I were Eve, I probably would have eaten it too. Have you tasted an orange? They’re incredible.

The forbidden fruit, allegedly. Worth every consequence.

According to the legend, Eve was succumbing to the temptation of the snake tempter and tasted the fruit of an orange from the tree of knowledge—because apparently tempters have taste. She offered it to Adam, and the archangels blew their trumpets and showered her head with the snow-white, fragrant flowers of an orange tree (orange blossom). It was a moment of divine appreciation, honestly—even the angels were like, “Yeah, okay, that orange move was pretty good, but here are the consequences anyway.” Classic biblical irony. After this delicious episode, Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden. So basically, we all owe our suffering to oranges. You’re welcome, humanity.

Orange still life
Last orange. For now. (It wasn’t the last orange.)


Bon voyage! Until the next travel :) if you find yourself in Spain, send me orange blossom perfume back, would you?)

Tools used for my painting: Watercolour brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because apparently orange fruit deserves fancy art supplies). Paper Canson Mix Media album 28×35 cm (11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolour album 25×35 cm (11×15 in.)—basically, I bought a lot of paper to paint the same fruit in different ways. It’s called commitment. Or obsession. Probably both.

All paintings belong to the author. No image is to be copied without permission. (Yes, I’m talking to you—put that orange painting down!).

Oranges and its trees, Rome, part 1. Urban sketching and Still life. Travel and Art.

ArtTravel

Rome. You know, that place where tourists arrive and immediately lose their minds over the one thing Romans have been casually ignoring for literally centuries: oranges hanging from trees. On actual trees:)

Lovely oranges- juicy

Orange trees minding their own business on a Rome street, casually photobombing motorcycles and architecture like they own the place. Spoiler: they kind of do.

Rome in May. The oranges are thriving. The tourists are not.

If you venture to Rome (and let’s be real, who wouldn’t?), prepare your schnoz for a fresh, jasmine-adjacent aroma that will make you question every candle you’ve ever bought. Visit in May? Congratulations! You’ve hit the citrus lottery—blooming orange trees will be photobombing every selfie you take on Rome’s charming streets.

Still life with oranges. They posed. We did not ask.

The Doria Pamphili Garden in Rome is the perfect place to collapse dramatically between museum tours, all while inhaling the intoxicating fragrance and gawking at the aggressively vibrant oranges hanging overhead. It’s like nature installed a mood enhancer specifically for exhausted art lovers.

Doria Pamphili Garden — where art lovers go to dramatically recover.

According to ancient Greek legend (and what’s more reliable than ancient mythology, am I right?), Gaea straight-up gifterd golden orange orchards to Hera as a wedding present when she married Zeus. Their first night of newlywed bliss? Three hundred years. Talk about going the distance! Now that’s a honeymoon.

Hera’s wedding gift. Three hundred years of honeymoon sold separately.

The couple had access to magical spring water—basically the ancient equivalent of a spa day—which kept Hera perpetually refreshed and virginal (plot twist: marriage!). And to make sure nobody crashed their citrus paradise, they hired the Hesperids and a monstrous dragon as bouncers. Talk about taking ‘No Trespassing’ to mythological extremes.

More oranges. Because apparently one painting wasn’t enough.
Spoiler: also oranges.

Oranges’ recipe for the salad we devoured in Rome like it had personally offended us. Main ingredients? Arugula (the fancy lettuce), feta cheese (the salty stuff), oranges (obviously), and olives (because why not). For dressing: red wine vinegar, honey, and olive oil—basically, liquid gold. The result? A light, refreshingly bright salad so good you’ll forget how much you hate summer heat. You’re welcome.

The salad’s main character. Bow down.

Bon voyage! Until the next adventure! Keep your sense of humor (and your appetite) sharp. Stay healthy, stay weird, and always look up to see what fruit-related adventure the universe has in store.

All paintings and sarcasm belong to the author. No image or witty observation is to be copied without permission (they’re copyrighted treasures, thank you very much).

Doria Pamphili Gallery—it’s on Via del Corso in Rome, if you ever need an excuse to eat more salad surrounded by Renaissance paintings and smug orange trees.

The behind-the-scenes reveal: my artistic arsenal includes watercolor brands Van Gogh and Cotman (because yes, we splash out on the fancy stuff). For sketching, I abuse Strathmore Watercolor albums (14×21 cm / 5.5×8.5 in.) and Acquarello (12.5×18 cm). Studio albums? Canson Mix Media (28×35 cm / 11×14 in.) and Canson Watercolor (25×35 cm / 11×15 in.)—basically enough paper to create my own forest, which ironically I’m using to draw pictures of trees. The irony is exquisite.

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