Never Fear Art gods: Mission Accomplished.

Essay Number 3 from Italy:

Never fear art gods: Mission Accomplished.

8:20. The Academia Museum hadn’t been open for more than thirty minutes and already a line of hundreds anxious tourist lined up waiting to get in. Luckily, we had our student museum cards that allow us entry without waiting, which of course made for some grumbling from the people we were cutting in front of.  Nonetheless, of all the museums in Italy, this was the one I had heard the most about. What made it so popular? Was it because it was the first academy of drawing in Europe and founded in the middle of the sixteenth century? Nope, I didn’t actually know any of this until I googled it about nine minutes ago. This museum is probably most famous now because of it being the home of Michelangelo’s David.

            What’s so special about the David? Why do thousands of people each year come to this city, to this museum, to see this one piece of art? According to an internet source, “At the age of 26, Michelangelo was given a leftover block of marble that came from the mountains of Carrara, one which had previously been worked on by various other artists.  The piece was intended as a monumental work, a testimony to the city’s republican pride, not one for close confinement, but was moved to the Academia in 1873 (from Palazzo Vecchio, where a replica now stands) to protect it from the ravages of time and the weather.” But obviously, that can’t be the all the hype? It’s just a sculpture done by a famous sculptor right? Before I left, my art teacher from high school who visited the David in 2000 said to me, “You owe the art gods enough respect to grace this masterpiece with your presence…or else they may shun you forever.” But WHY is THIS particularly one so worthy of my visit? I set out this hot Florentine morning to find the answer for myself.

After cutting the line, the first room we visited was off to the right: a room full of work by Lorenzo Bartolini. Lorenzo Bartolini, not to be confused with the long lost Italian lover of Claire in the movie Letter’s to Juliet, was a famous Renaissance sculptor. He had quite a lengthy history with the Academia.  At the age of 12, he studied briefly at the school. In 1812, he taught briefly a short series of classes. In 1839, he was made a professor at the Academia, where he started a scandal when introducing a hunchback as the life model for his students. Now the Academia houses around 300 models for his portraits and busts.  I was amazed walking through this room admiring these marbles casts. The smallest of details were the ones I found the most amazing: toenails, strands of hair, grapes on the vine-all carved to perfection.

            In the second room, I was greeted with a long row of unfinished Michelangelo pieces. Even unfinished, I was impressed by the craftsmanship of the Pietà Palestrina.  Three figures coming to life out of this mass of stone, chisel marks and all, I couldn’t help but stop and stare. Again and again, Michelangelo causing me to stop and admire his efforts: unfinished or not.  Nice bicep here, nice rib cage there, then at the end of the hall there it was.

The David.

Standing proudly perfectly projected in the sunlight streaming in from the skylight above.  It was breathtaking. I probably spent a solid thirty minutes circling and circling this masterpiece over and over, noticing things I hadn’t the time before.  The furrow of his brow, the confidence of his pose, the way his curls lay perfectly placed on his head, the hugeness of his hands.  Seventeen feet tall with knee caps bigger than my head, much more awesome than any picture I have seen could capture: a photo is only worth a thousand words after all. My teacher had been right; this was worth my time. 

After camping at David’s feet for a long while, I forced myself away through the rest of the museum: more Bartolini and Renaissance paintings from Florentine’s that in my opinion had nothing on Michelangelo. They felt like sloppy seconds to the phenomenon I had just graced the presence of. The David was certainly the highlight of the Academia.

If traveling to Florence I encourage you to stop in and see what all the fuss is about for yourself. You won’t fully understand until you see it in person. And if that doesn’t get you to wait out the long lines at the Academia then do it in fear of the art gods (from what I hear they have a mean shun). 

One Church, Two Church, Red Church, Blue Church

Travel Writing Essay #2 from Italy! 

Enjoy friends and sorry there hasn't been more day to day type blogs...things are SOOO busy here. I post most of the day to day to facebook so feel free to check that one.

One Church, Two Church, Red Church, Blue Church

If Dr. Seuss had said, “Some are red and some are blue. Some are old and some aren’t so new.”  He could’ve been describing the many churches in Italy.  Let me explain. 

Italy you see has more churches than the United States has McDonald’s (relative to size of course).  Not only is there one on almost every corner, there are often multiple ones strung together all within a short walking distance.  According to one internet source, there are more than two thousand churches in Rome, one hundred and forty nine in Venice, and more than fifty in Florence.  I find this vast amount of churches extremely interesting considering the fact that today nearly one fifth of the population profess to be either Atheists or Agnostics, while most of the remaining population claim to a religious affiliation based on tradition but are rarely found practicing or participating in the actual services.  Nevertheless, I figured I owed it to my growth as an individual and new world traveler to see what was so special about all of these buildings (not to mention it’s required for the Study Abroad Program that got me here in the first place).  

I can recall most of the layouts and specific things from the first few churches we visited: Duomo, Santa Croce, and Santa Maria Novella but after the first week and nine churches later things begin to get fuzzy. What I started out hearing as, “This church has many arches from the Byzantine period.” Quickly, became, “This painting looks very similar to the ones in the last nine churches.” But for now let’s only stick to the specifics…

Last week, I was browsing through the Duomo Cathedral located in the heart of Florence.  For me the Duomo was the most memorable of the churches. If you’re willing to hike up the 463 narrow winding steps to the top, you will see a view of Florence well worth the journey. The Baptistery, which happens to be the oldest building in the square, sports beautifully crafted doors on the outside and the inside breathtaking mosaics.  Being my second time through this particular church, I found myself breaking away from my group a little to wander through the mass of other tourists visiting this 1600 year old church. People whispering all around, “Oh, that’s interesting. Did you notice that? Hey honey, look over there. That’s cool.” Tour guides reciting the oh so familiar, “This painting here was done by some artist a long time ago and was dedicated to this place where it has hung for thousands of others to see before you…” Then suddenly a loud booming voice, “SHHHHHHHHHH! (which is apparently the universal sound for shut up) SILENCE. SILENCIO POR FAVORE! SHHHHHHH.” The voice of God maybe? No, only a recording set to play every ten minutes to scare the tourist into keeping their whispering to a minimum.  I couldn’t help but chuckle (silently, of course) to myself as the people roaming the Cathedral immediately stopped talking only to resume their whispering less than ten seconds later.

Today, we visited Masaccio’s painting in the family chapel of Felice Brancacci inside Santa Maria del Carmine. This being my seventeenth church in fourteen days, I was so thankful for our tour guide, Mitzi, who was able to keep my attention by saying, “Masaccio does for painting what Brunelleschi and Donatello do for sculpture.  So basically for all you non-art majors that is like saying this painting today would be like us watching Avatar on acid; very innovative.”  Although, I’ve never personally watched Avatar on acid, this image was enough to spark my interest and made me pay much more attention to the details of this piece of art. 

Being an art major with an art history minor, I can now see why we have spent the majority of our trip “church-hopping”.  The Renaissance is truly represented well here, and thumbnail images out of thick textbooks don’t do the real images justice by any means. However, to the average tourist I wouldn’t recommend the in depth approach my group chose: stick to the most famous two or three and pray you have a funny tour guide.

“From there to here, from here to there, church things everywhere!”  Okay so obviously Dr. Seuss didn’t quite say that, but he could have if he would’ve only visited Italy. 

Non capisco. Sono americano!

Wrote this little essay for my travel writing class here in Florence, Italy. Enjoy! 

Italy: The trip had finally arrived. I had been counting down the days for months.  I couldn’t wait to study photography in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. I was looking forward to meeting all the new people, taking in all the history around me, and not to mention indulging in all the delicious food I’ve heard so much about.  The only real concern I had was the language barrier. I hadn’t taken any Italian lessons, so how would I know how to communicate? Would everyone be able to understand me, take my order, and give me directions? I hopped on the plane with two Italian dictionaries and an “Italian for Dummies” CD programmed into my iPod, hoping that was enough.

Since my arrival less than a week ago, I have known only a small percentage of the words spoken around me but surprisingly enough I’m still able to be involved in most conversations. How is this even possible? It makes me wonder if there is more to language than just consonants, vowels, dialects and slangs? 

            On only my second day in this beautiful foreign country, I was walking to the market and heard an elderly couple talking.  From the bits of the conservation I could understand, I gathered that the woman was going on and on about something while the man would just calmly nod and apologize.  Even though I didn’t know the specifics of their argument, by their tone and gestures, I can deduct somewhat a narrative.  As they squished themselves into their tiny Italian car and drove away still arguing, I wondered to myself how many times have I heard my parents have the same argument?

            That same evening while site-seeing through the Piazza della Repubblica, I noticed a group of women in white pants, red shirts, and sporting all sorts of animal ear headbands.  Being the beginning of June, I highly doubted these women were already practicing for Halloween.  After a few minutes of casually following them around I realized one was wearing a veil along with her rabbit ears.  That’s when the light bulb went off: Italian Bachelorette party.  Since I already had my camera hanging from my neck, I decided I must get a photo of this celebration. A few unsuccessful attempts later, I worked up the courage to test my limited Italian vocabulary and ask these women for a photo. I forced out something to the effect of “Vorrei prendere lei fotografe. Poso?” I’m still not sure if what I said was correct or just the fact that I was holding my camera and pointing to them, but they replied “Si.” I couldn’t help but smile as they posed scandously, soaking up all the tourist attention, and then handed me their camera so that I could take another one for them.  As the future bride came to get her camera from me, she said “American?” I shook my head, “Si.” She said something in Italian and when I look confused pointed to her veil. I replied with a smile, “Si, We call it Bachelorette Party.” She said, “No. Bride.” I said, “Si.” After a smile, wave, and “Ciao,” we all went on our merry ways. 

Even yesterday, I had maybe the most touching encounter since I’ve been here with a local.  Being a new tourist, I still haven’t figured out how to judge the weather yet.  Almost out of nowhere it starts pouring just as I begin the walk back to my apartment from a day of class. I was caught of guard and had no umbrella or jacket. My labtop and cameras were in my bag that was quickly getting soaked. I took of my flip flops and decided to sprint the five minute walk back to my place dodging under balconys and awning when I could. After only my second stop under a balcony, a middle aged Italian woman stopped next to me and motioned for me to hop under her umbrella. She said something in Italian but at this point the words didn’t matter, I was more than happy to walk with her. I’m sure to her I looked almost comical: typical American tourist, unprepared, heavy backpack, no shoes, half drenched hopping from balcony to balcony but she still stopped. I just kept saying “Grazie! Grazie!” She would say, “Prego” and then continue speaking Italian words I will never understand. When she began to turn down a side street just a block away from my apartment, I thanked her one more time pointed straight, waved, “Ciao” and took off to sprint the home stretch. 

Going into week two of my stay here in Florence, I sometimes find myself getting frustrated for not being more prepared: “Italian for Dummies” just didn’t cut it. But none the less, all of these recent encounters have just lead me to believe that while knowing many languages may make things easier and quicker, humans still communicate in many ways. I’ve found that a smile is still a smile no matter what language comes out of your mouth. 

:) Ciao! :)