Ronda & Bullfighting

During the year end hiatus on the project where I'm currently working, I was lucky enough to go to southern Spain with my family. One of the most striking locations we visited was Ronda, an ancient Moorish city built atop a gorge lookout,  before being taken over by the Spanish during the 15th century. 

In addition to cathedrals, museums, ancient bath houses and bridges, and much else - there is also the first bullfighting ring ever built. 

And out of that bullfighting ring, came the original style of Tauramachy. Pure, simple, methodical. It's contrasted greatly by the Seville style which emphasizes flourishes, showmanship, and boldness. 

I've always loved Hemingway's point of view on bullfighting (which can be explored in full in Death in the Afternoon). The modern sensibility (as well as the sensibility shared by many even hundreds of years ago) is that a sport or art should never involve actual death. Whether it be the death of the bull or the matador, it's barbaric and unnecessary.

But Hemingway argues that this mortal aspect elevates the experience beyond the realm of sport, into the spiritual, into the highest form of art. To him, the greatest drama is found in the grace of one facing death. War, boxing, hunting, and bullfighting. Seemingly senseless acts of machismo and violence are given purpose by the fighter's soulful engagement, their respect for the experience. 

Nowadays, Ronda's Goyesca bullring only has two corridas per year. But they are the most celebrated events in the sport. It is hard to say whether such a practice should exist at all anymore, but having seen a corrida in person - I can say that to ignore its existence is a mistake. There is something truly powerful in the experience, whether it ignites your respect or your rancor - it will inevitably teach you something about how you view art. 

The Smoky Mountain Killer - Origins

Spring break of my senior year of college, my friend and I took a road trip in his sister's car from North Carolina through the Smokies and Tennessee ending in New Orleans, before driving through Nashville back to Chicago.

One of the absolute highlights of the trip, and my life for that matter, was trekking in the Smoky Mountains. Specifically, the day we tried (and failed) to tackle Thunderhead Mountain. 

I'll save that story for another day, but it ultimately inspired my pilot (currently posted under TV samples). My friend got around to developing some of the photos we took during that trip, and during that day specifically. They're absolutely beautiful and I'll post them here. I hope you can enjoy them, if not for using them as an imagination-backdrop when reading Smoky Mountain Killer, then simply as a portal into the surreal, natural world of the Blue Ridges. 

That's me. Spring, 2013. 

That's me. Spring, 2013. 

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