Italy 1992-Part VI: Florence, Reflections

9/30/92: My last day of vacation in Italy. Peg and I went into Florence to the Academia to see Michelangelo's David statue, a true masterpiece. The first time I saw it was in 1989, and it truly is a wonder. All photographs do not capture the beauty of this statue. It is made of stone yet seems to be human. You can see the veins in his hands, the muscles under the skin. It is incredible. Leading up to it on each side are unfinished sculptures by Michelangelo. They are exciting in their own way. To me, they look as if the subject is trying to fight its way out of the marble. Peggy, who of course got a college degree in art, is always so useful to have along in museums because of her knowledge. She said that Michelangelo believed that a statue already existed and that the artist only had to know how to properly chisel the excess marble away in order to release it. This was confirmed by the book I bought there and read, that Michelangelo believed sculpture was an art of "subtraction". I never tire of viewing his work, whether paintings or sculpture.

On my most recent trip to Italy in 2006, Peggy and I viewed for the first time Michelangelo's Pieta, which is also unfinished. He put his own face onto Nicodemus, then took a hammer to the piece when he didn't like it. We also re-visited the Uffizi where we again viewed his painting of the Holy Family. It is very dynamic and unusual. When you visit a lot of Italian museums and churches, you surely see painting after painting of the Holy Family or the Madonna with the baby Jesus. Usually they have halos and he is either on her lap looking holy or on the floor or ground and she's worshipping him. Michelangelo's painting has the baby Jesus up on Joseph's lap and Mary is turning around reaching up for him. They don't have halos. The colors are vibrant; the clothes appear almost to move as the people are moving. It truly seems like a picture of a family, not some religious icons. It is almost three-dimensional, like his sculptures. Of course, he also painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling in the Vatican, which I have also seen. While all these things can be seen in books, I feel very lucky to have seen them with my own eyes. I can say that books do not bring these works of art to life like seeing them in person does.


Michelangelo's David


Michelangelo's Holy Family


Michelangelo's unfinished Pieta in Florence

My last night, we began what has become a tradition every time I visit Peggy in Italy. We went downstairs for my good-bye dinner of Laura Panerai's lasagna, and tiramisu for dessert. My journal notes that we had dinner with Laura and Carlo and Ada (Al's mom, dad and grandmother). Sad to say these 14 years later (when I wrote this in 2006), Carlo and Ada are gone but Laura still makes lasagna and tiramisu for me every time I visit.

As I reflected on the trip, I realized how much time I spent on trains: trains to Florence from Sesto, train to Venice, train to Milan, very long train home from Novi, subways in Milan. Also did buses from Calenzano to Florence and Prato and waterbuses in Venice. I toured the Uffizi, saw the David, visited the Duomo in Milan, La Scala, museums and churches all over, rode along the Grand Canal, saw the mountains around Florence from the hill of Fiesole, went in an Italian hospital, had gelato in Campi, road the boat on the Riviera, went bowling, went to a wedding reception, saw a spur of the moment photo show in Siena, visited the Malaspina coffee shop, rode in a Cinquecento, spent late nights up with Peg and Cristiano in the hotel TV room in Venice, had the kitty crisis in Venice, saw the Inquisition show, ate in several restaurants, hung out at the Fiddler's Elbow in Florence and the Devil's Forest in Venice. We had that freezing night in Francavilla, the best waiter ever at the Melograno in Venice. There was a bus strike on the first day we visited Venice. There was a general strike country-wide and we got our free ride on the autostrada. There was a massive flood in Genoa shortly after we rode through on the train on the way back from Milan – we saw cars being washed down the streets when we watched the news that night. Really dodged a bullet there. I also recalled some of the sad sights along the way: the drug addicts and bikers who hung in the square near the Fiddler's Elbow, the homeless and beggars in Milan, including the "bobbing" heroin man on the curb next to the Duomo, the gypsies and their dirty children all trying to beg or steal from you. Cappuccino, vespas and mopeds, bicycles, the sounds of trains going in and out of the station outside Gianni and Cristina's apartment in Novi, the obituary board in Novi, the singing soldiers on the train to Milan, psycho guy and Egyptians in Venice. I remembered some New Yorkers on the boat to Portofino – their accents gave them away and when I opened my mouth, they knew I was from Boston. The view of Portofino from atop the hill, Venetian lace and Murano glass and carnival masks. There was a guy by the newsstand outside the train station in Venice who offered to carry Peggy to her hotel because there were no busses due to the strike. There was a woman in a Venetian tobacco store complaining about French tourists; there were Birkenstock Germans, blonde Swedish girls, short Italian skirts, Indians, Africans selling Bic lighters. The Mouth of Truth, military time, carabinieri, calcio, the strange drunk girl on the train to Milan. I closed by writing:

"What a trip. So many experiences. I'm glad I faithfully kept this journal so that I won't forget them. I don't know if I'll return. But it was certainly a vacation dream. I left my life for three weeks and now it is time to return to Laura – I'll see you tomorrow!"