Calzones and Wine...What Life's About
Today, I thought I was going to write all about Michelangelo Blondarroti.
I thought I was going to write about all of the art history I learned yesterday, about his life, about how was actually trained in fresco painting and self taught in stone cutting, about all of the pieces he created throughout his life. I thought I was going to write about how enlightening it all was, how much I retained and wanted to tell others, and everything that I jotted down in my journal, looking like a little college student, during the entire length of the three and a half tour.
But I'm not going to because it doesn't matter. And you know why it doesn't matter?
Because yesterday, Chris and I saw the David. We saw the David and it was...
Well, the moment was speechless. Just...no words can describe those...
And I got teary as Chris cried.
It was at the end of the tour and we went to the Accademia, a center that was built when Italy began to create buildings for the public, such as the Ufici as a public museum and so on. The Accademia was where many younger artists works or art that who didn't make the cut for the Uffizi, were brought. And because the ceilings were not high enough in the Uffizi and transporting the David to Accademia was much easier, there it rests.
At the end of a hallway, beneath a gigantic domed glass celing, sun beaming through and hitting the gigantic 5.6 meter high (over 15 feet) statue, there is the David.
I can see the strain in his neck. His body is breathing with the expansion of the rib cage as he holds the pebble, ready to throw it at the giant Goliath. Such a solid being.
Wow.
We learn that the David was constructed from a piece of marble that two other artists could not mold into anything. After each artist gave up on the marble, it was Michelangelo who conquered the beastly piece of Carrera marble. And the David was supposed to be placed on the side of the Duomo, but in the last moments it was redecided and for years actually stood outside the Piazza Signoria where it sat for over three hundred years. Until 1873 when it was taken, finally, to Accademia to revered and looked upon as a true piece of art.
Now, from far away at the base of the hallway, everything looks proportionate on David to me. But as our cute Columbia PhD art historian (who is such a teacher that she would almost jump out of her shoes with excitement if someone mentioned something correct about a painting or statue) shows us that up close, the David is almost bizarre looking due to the pure fact that Michelangelo never believed it would be looked upon in the way that we do now. The backside, which on the side of a church would never been seen, is very dull and barly sculpted, and compared to the chiseled front torso, there's quite a difference.
And Michelanglo, even after the entire day of looking at his other amazing works and paitings and frescos, created this anatomy of a living being and a famous Biblical story in one. He was right, his talent in painting is undeniable (I'm still not ready for the Sistine Chapel...) but he was a sculptor and that was his art.
Wow.
Double that wow. Triple it even.
Anyway, after the tour, Chris and I enjoy another canoli, which I swear to God, I never liked in the states but here, I could eat twenty of them in one sitting. And we go to see Carmen (well sort of, kind of like greatest hits/abbreviated version) in St. Marks Cathedral and these singers have serious lungs and soaring voices that I can only dream of having.
And another day passes, a great day full of culture, ended with pjs, giggles, drinking wine and eating a calzone from the street vendor.
Mmmmm.
Ciao ciao!
Love love,
Adrienne
I thought I was going to write about all of the art history I learned yesterday, about his life, about how was actually trained in fresco painting and self taught in stone cutting, about all of the pieces he created throughout his life. I thought I was going to write about how enlightening it all was, how much I retained and wanted to tell others, and everything that I jotted down in my journal, looking like a little college student, during the entire length of the three and a half tour.
But I'm not going to because it doesn't matter. And you know why it doesn't matter?
Because yesterday, Chris and I saw the David. We saw the David and it was...
Well, the moment was speechless. Just...no words can describe those...
And I got teary as Chris cried.
It was at the end of the tour and we went to the Accademia, a center that was built when Italy began to create buildings for the public, such as the Ufici as a public museum and so on. The Accademia was where many younger artists works or art that who didn't make the cut for the Uffizi, were brought. And because the ceilings were not high enough in the Uffizi and transporting the David to Accademia was much easier, there it rests.
At the end of a hallway, beneath a gigantic domed glass celing, sun beaming through and hitting the gigantic 5.6 meter high (over 15 feet) statue, there is the David.
I can see the strain in his neck. His body is breathing with the expansion of the rib cage as he holds the pebble, ready to throw it at the giant Goliath. Such a solid being.
Wow.
We learn that the David was constructed from a piece of marble that two other artists could not mold into anything. After each artist gave up on the marble, it was Michelangelo who conquered the beastly piece of Carrera marble. And the David was supposed to be placed on the side of the Duomo, but in the last moments it was redecided and for years actually stood outside the Piazza Signoria where it sat for over three hundred years. Until 1873 when it was taken, finally, to Accademia to revered and looked upon as a true piece of art.
Now, from far away at the base of the hallway, everything looks proportionate on David to me. But as our cute Columbia PhD art historian (who is such a teacher that she would almost jump out of her shoes with excitement if someone mentioned something correct about a painting or statue) shows us that up close, the David is almost bizarre looking due to the pure fact that Michelangelo never believed it would be looked upon in the way that we do now. The backside, which on the side of a church would never been seen, is very dull and barly sculpted, and compared to the chiseled front torso, there's quite a difference.
And Michelanglo, even after the entire day of looking at his other amazing works and paitings and frescos, created this anatomy of a living being and a famous Biblical story in one. He was right, his talent in painting is undeniable (I'm still not ready for the Sistine Chapel...) but he was a sculptor and that was his art.
Wow.
Double that wow. Triple it even.
Anyway, after the tour, Chris and I enjoy another canoli, which I swear to God, I never liked in the states but here, I could eat twenty of them in one sitting. And we go to see Carmen (well sort of, kind of like greatest hits/abbreviated version) in St. Marks Cathedral and these singers have serious lungs and soaring voices that I can only dream of having.
And another day passes, a great day full of culture, ended with pjs, giggles, drinking wine and eating a calzone from the street vendor.
Mmmmm.
Ciao ciao!
Love love,
Adrienne
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