Firenze

-
    I first went to to Florence nearly twenty years ago, when I was freelancing for a small company in Bangor, working on European projects involving E-Learning, as it was so quaintly called then. I had no real clue as to the brief, but I was instructed to travel far and wide within the EU, and did so on a number of occasions over the ten months or so I worked for them. I was handsomely rewarded and got to travel, so question did I not. One meeting was scheduled off-season in Firenze, seat of the Medici and home to much art and many artists of the Renaissance. But as any denizen of the Art Room knows, the crowning glory of this glorious city - and it is glorious! - is the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore - the Duomo. Filippo Brunelleschi's topping out of the Cathedral's long, long-standing open roof problem. The Dome. A creation like none before - the largest, self-supporting dome on a building in the world. FB's achievements fill books, so I leave you, dear reader, to Google and buy and read at leisure. The point here is that I went there knowing little of the general history of the place, but aware of the significance of the cathedral in art & architecture's history. I decided before I left I would leave a day either side of the conference days to explore - it might be my last chance, after all. So, I went for a wander. Not knowing my way around and not having bothered to consult my guidebook, I just went wherever the feeling took me, until I took a left turning into a piazza and boom - there it was:


    Although, obviously this is not the view - my pictures from then have long since bit digital dust - I walked into the square and was confronted by the facade and main entrance opposite the Baptistry [the Baptistry! The Doors!]. I truthfully stopped and stood agape - actually, I said - soto voce (I hope) -  fucking hell, there it is... I spent those few days taking in as much of this astonishing city as I could and managed to get into the Uffizi Gallery - off-season, the queue was only short - in high season, forget it, unless you enjoy queueing round the block in thirty-degree heat.


    Now, I went in with no real expectations except to see, you know, the 'usual suspects' - Michaelangelo, Titian, Botticelli, etc. etc... I was in a small room off the corridor shown above, with one of those iconic paintings - Medusa by Caravaggio - no small beans. But as I turned around to scan the rest of this tiny space, I saw a painting that sucked the breath from me. Tucked by the right hand side of the doorway was one by Artemesia Gentileschi:


    This was a painting I'd wanted to see for many years. The story behind this painting is extraordinary - I encourage you to look into it - no spoilers here, but it's history worth knowing.

I have had moments in my life when a work of art has simply, utterly transfixed and pinned me to the moment. This was one of them.

Comments

  1. Steve11 May 2020 at 14:43

    Margaret and I went on a day visit and we walked miles and tried to pack as much in as possible, your comment about the Uffizi in summer is also well made - we didn't get in there. Pity because I would have loved to have seen the Gentileschi - it's stunning from just the image you've posted. Had a similar experience with art when I first stood in front of Dali's 'Christ of St John on the Cross. Originally saw it in St Mungo's Museum in Glasgow, (it's now back in its' permanent home at the Kelvingrove). Art in all its forms can have this power to move us, to fire our emotions and bring us to an almost spiritual consciousness and we are all better for it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. sideways11 May 2020 at 20:28

    Yep - I had the same experience the second time I went: I took Jane there for a week, because, if you can, you've got to see that place. We went at the tail-end of the season, but it was still heaving - The Uffizi was a complete no-no, but we managed to get up to the top of the Duomo. Stunning to see the inner construction of the Dome, and the view from the Lantern at the top...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Feedback & Wobbles

-
Image
Many years ago I came up with an analogy for poorly damped feedback loops. The feedback loop that prompted this frankly tart analogy was indeed a horror. Anyone who remembers shame-faced their first attempts at clutch control resulting in the good old kangaroo launch across the lights only to stall in the middle of the crossroads will have some idea of the kind of data transfer lag involved in said system. The analogy I made was that of a large blancmange. Untouched, a model of stasis and eminently stable and predictable; but prod the bugger and the resultant chaotic behaviour needs a very complex physical model and some very decent computing horsepower to predict its outputs, if at all. The system in question was a large and complex audio-visual display at what eventually became 'The Electric Mountain' in Llanberis. We were ultimately contracted to maintain the thing having been witness to and peripherally involved in its installation. Certainly not involved in its des
Read more

Sister Ray

-
Image
Ray Keats - aka Ann Key - local artist & family friend, died this morning. She'd been ill for some years, but never let it get in the way of her work or of tending to the massive network of friends, colleagues and fans she had accumulated over the decades. Her house on the High Street of Rachub, just below where we live - a former cockle factory(!) - bought many years ago when she and her late husband Ronald moved here from Manchester to set up home in Yr Achub, is currently still home to her paintings and drawings, and the front window displays her work, including the last drawing she made in hospital, just days before she died. Her good friend Colin has been a diamond in her latter years, looking out for her and just being there when she needed him. She will be much missed by this tiny community of ageing bohemians up here in the hills, but suffice it to say, George, her cat, will be well looked after now she's gone.
Read more

A Time of Connection

-
Image
I was just reflecting on the vacuum of continuity that's left behind when someone dies: that sudden sense of disjoint, of fracture, in one's personal history that takes one completely by surprise at the oddest moments. These pinch-points in memory can often yield some surprising revelations of fact about periods in one's past. One such occurred to me tonight, tending my rather lazy meal of pizza in its journey from shrink-wrap to mouth via the oven. Al's recent demise still catches me out from time to time: the space he left bounded by forty plus years of friendship. But the thing that struck me tonight was just how much change was happening on a personal and social level in the very early years of our acquaintance. Between moving here from Birmingham in September 1980 and our buying our first proper house eighteen months later, all manner of things occurred that would chart the course of our lives to the present day. At around the time of our meeting Alan & Irene [
Read more