Tag Archives: art history

Florence, Day 11: Dodging Pedestals in the Face of Greatness

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Looking how I was feeling after my class in the Uffuzi Gallery Michelangelo room.

How does a modern day Florentine find his or her own identity in the shadows of so many geniuses? I asked my teacher Benedetta. “Yes, it is hard,” she replied. “I have heard of artists who come here to Florence and never work again, completely crippled by the grandeur of all those masters.”

Today, my teacher, very sweet and humble, said, “Today you will discover my secret. My father is the director of the Uffizi.” She introduced me (swoon) to a handsome man in his early 60s without a trace of pretense. He proudly showed me photos of his three beautiful daughters and wife and I’m thinking, “Um, yes, nice, but can we talk about those stacks of books on your desk? Tell me about your work? What does the director of the Uffuzi do? Can I see the ‘Birth of Venus’ without the glass? Touch it? Let’s get a photo.” But no, I had respect. I simply shook his hand and said, “So nice to meet you,” then did my best not to flood sweet Benedetta with questions about his work.

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I had to sneak this photo of the director’s office. Look at all of these books! My nightstand at home looks like a mini version of his desk. (Swoon)

The Vasari corridor as seen from the Uffizi.

The Vasari corridor as seen from the Uffizi.

Soon, that was not hard, as she is a brilliant and interesting art historian in her own right; her father must be proud. She walked me through Florence in the form of paintings from the 14th to the 17th centuries. I watched the works unfold before the Renaissance, with the strong gold leaf backgrounds and flat figures, to the time when slowly the details emerged. The bodies became 3D, the faces gained expression, the backgrounds became landscapes and the Renaissance exploded in all its full-blown glory.

We walked right through Leonardo, Michelangelo and Raphael’s High Renaissance until we ended with Caravaggio and the Baroque period, with its exaggerated expression and extreme lights and darks.

 

Turns out I'm not the only one completely enchanted by Botticelli.

Turns out I’m not the only one completely enchanted by Botticelli.

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Caravaggio’s “Bacchus”: Gotta love a country that honors the God of Wine. I’ve always loved this painting.

I learned about many of the things that influenced these movements. For example, Michelangelo was in Rome when they uncovered many statues from the Hellenistic period. He was deeply influenced by the extreme gesture and emotion of these works. His own work becoming more filled with expression at this time.

Benedetta and I took a small break on the lovely rooftop cafe with a view of the Duomo as we were finishing up. The legs tire and the mind can hardly comprehend. It’s all almost too much, too much beauty all in one place, too much excitement. One needs to pause to take it in, but then you’re staring at the Duomo, and again you must catch your breath.

This is what I mean when I say you must somehow find your place and keep these geniuses of art off their well-deserved pedestals. You can get psyched out. It might be easy to feel very small, but you must find your own place in the folds of history — maybe not as a famous person but as one of value, as we all are.

I think it must be a certain kind of pressure for Florentine artists, and indeed Benedetta pointed out that in Mannerism, which followed the Renaissance, there was this anxiety for artists to try to paint after this huge and brilliant time where art absolutely blossomed and flourished under the skill of so many huge talents.

I guess you just do as the famous Contemporary artist Chuck Close says: “Show up and get to work.” Yes, I think I will just continue to show up and see what else this city will reveal to me!

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And let us not forget the culinary arts!

Florence, Day 6: Some Days Just Seem to Invite Magic

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Today was one of those days.

My iPhone said it may rain. My iPhone was very, very wrong.

The sun shone its glorious face over the entire day. I met Enrico at the school at our usual  time. I asked where we might paint today; Fiesole was the answer. I’d only read about it, but what I read was inviting. Far above the city, this little town is older than Florence, founded originally by the Etruscans for its stunning view of the Tuscan valley below (which is now Florence) and its cooler temperatures.

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It was a perfect place to paint. The view took my breath away — or was that just the steep hill I had climbed to get here? But first more steps, and the enchanting little Church of San Francesco. I love this country. Art matters, beauty matters. And while in general they could do a better job of keeping it all tidy, I can see them shrugging and replying, “Eh, why? It’s so beautiful and we need time to enjoy it all!”

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It’s just so very refreshing to be in a place where art matters. I would never ever have to explain to an Italian the importance of art. And so here I am, surrounded by it. We spent the morning painting the view of the valley. The theme of our lesson was similar to that of the last two days: patience. Yes, yes I’m working on that. It took Michelangelo four years to complete the David. Yes, patience and art do go hand and hand here. It’s good for me. As a hyper-productive American, I feel I have to have much to show at the end of the day. You have heard something like this from every American who spends any time in Italy: “They just enjoy life more.” Hyper-productive is not what you call Italy, yet here I am, growing and learning, so maybe patience and slowing down are productive after all.

I ask this one question of any Italian whose ear I can bend, so I asked my teacher Enrico, “Where is the best food in all of Florence?” His young eyes lit up and he said, “Ah, I will show you.” He went on to explain the jolly owner who knows the source of everything in his place. All local, all delicious, all cared for by the most beaming man in Florence who owns this joint.

It’s adorable, but not an ounce of fancy here. I can’t remember everything we ate for lunch; something like a paella. A fish pasta, marinated zucchini and artichoke hearts, all selected from the deli-type counter where it was all on display. Served with a local white wine I will have to get the name of, as I’ll be back. The wine was served in a plastic cup which normally might do me in, but the great energy of this place, the taste and enjoying it all outside at the tiny little table, under an arched walkway — sigh, yes, I don’t mind. Life is good, and I’ll be back to this place. Here is a photo of it. At the end of the journey I will make a list with street names called “if you go,” for I can’t keep all this goodness to myself.

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After lunch we did some more sketching, and then it was time to part ways. Enrico has been a fine teacher this week, but next week I will study another passion, art history, and have a new teacher. Thank you, dear, sweet Enrico: For such a young man, your talent  is astounding and your kindest and patience so appreciated.

Enrico had taken me to a library just beyond the Duomo with a rooftop cafe with a glorious view of the Duomo itself. I stayed on a bit to finish sketching and just be alone with my thoughts for a bit.

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I decided it was time to finally have a date with the David. I have been in Florence almost a week and not yet paid my respects. So I headed to the Academia, which is open late on Friday nights and quite quiet. He’s magnificent, not a bit overrated. Five hundred years later, we still stand in awe. What a perfect way to end a most delightful week. Art, food, wine, beautiful city, gorgeous countryside. What else can I do but go home and read a good book as I drift off into dreamland…

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