The David, and some other stuff

(Originally written offline on May 26 at 10:33am Italy time, in Florence. I'm a little behind in my posting.)

Mom and Dave are both feeling a little sick, so they've gone to see a doctor. I conked out last night before getting to edit photos or write anything, so I'm doing that now.

Yesterday morning I got up early and took a little walk around Florence. I basically went from our hotel to the Fortezza da Basso and back. It was nice to get a taste of what the city is like away from all the tourists and tourist spots. Frankly, it didn't seem that much different from an American city, except that the traffic is a little crazier (especially with all those people on motorcycles). At one point I was mistaken for a local: Some guy stopped me on the street, pointed at his car, and said "Mi scusa, la macchina something something?" (translation: "Excuse me, something something about my car?") I think he was asking me if he could park there. Fortunately, I didn't have to let on that I was a tourist, because I knew enough Italian to answer him: "Non so" ("I don't know").

That morning we went to the Galleria dell'Accademia. There were various paintings there, and a room with original plaster casts of sculptures, many of which were nice. I remember in particular a statue of a praying angel that touched me: it was just a little girl, maybe ten years old, with wings, holding her hands together in prayer. Her head was cocked to the side, as if saying to God, "pretty please?" There was no fear or pain in her face, no tension in her body—even her hands were not pressed together tightly; her palms did not touch, only her fingers—and she should have been asking her father if he would take her to the ballet, pretty please?

All of this, however, was overshadowed by the David. The sculpture is at the end of a long hall, so when you first round the corner, you see it from about a hundred feet away (which is perhaps about the ideal distance). The statue must be about fifteen feet high, and it stands on a pedestal which itself must be six or seven feet high, so you can see it from the end of hte hall even when there are people everywhere (which there were). It stands by itself, framed by the half-cyclinder carved out of the wall behind it, protected by a glass barrier from tourists who want to get too familiar, and rigged with a device to measure vibrations (which I found just a little intrusive, but if it helps them preserve the statue in the long run, it's worth it).

I have seen so many pictures of the sculpture, including a poster I hang on my wall, that seeing it in person was more like greeting an old friend than making a new acquaintance. Still, actually being there was quite an experience. My mother stopped in mid-sentence when we first rounded the corner and saw it. I walked down the corridor towards it slowly, then walked around it several times, to get every angle. I walked to remote corners of the adjoining wings to get longer angles, and came up close to get dramatic upward views. I tried to keep my eyes on it as I moved (as much as possible without bumping into people), to get the full experience of seeing it in three dimensions. I was at first annoyed by how much and how loudly people were talking (although not surprised, since I am unusual in taking my art as seriously as some take their religion), but they quickly faded into the background and I could focus on the work.

The statue itself it famous enough, and has been photographed enough, that I won't waste words describing it here; I would be hard-pressed to do it justice anyway. I believe that Sandra Shaw (an artist and art historian of my acquaintance) called it the greatest sculpture ever made, and I have to agree. It is a figure of strength, ability, and serene confidence—man facing the world unafraid and able to conquer any obstacle. Seeing it in person, I knew that at the end of my life, I would list among my greatest moments and achievements: "I went to Italy and saw the David."

On our way back from the hotel, we stopped to look at the Santa Maria del Fiore and Giotto's Tower in Florence's Piazza del Duomo ("Cathedral Square"). Santa Maria has an amazing facade, incredibly ornate, full of statues, reliefs, and other ornament. I couldn't get back far enough to get a good shot of the building, but here are a few pictures to give you a taste:









Right across from the cathedral is the Battistero di San Giovanni, an octagonal building with the same level of ornament.





This building is famous for its doors, each of which contains several reliefs depicting Bible scenes (what else?) Here's the main door:



We stopped off for lunch back at the Piazza della Signoria, where we were the day before; here's the family on the patio:



I'm not there because I was taking the picture. I started taking more pictures that day, as Dave was a little tired (if the pictures aren't as good as before, that's why). For instance, I snapped this quick one of a bicyclist in the Piazza d. Signoria:



There are a lot of people on bikes around here.

Dad then went back to the hotel for a rest, while Mom, Dave and I went to the Palazzo Pitti (literally, Pitti Palace, the home of a very wealthy family of several centuries ago). On the way we stopped to take some pictures of the Arno from that Old Bridge:





Whoops, have to go meet Mom at the Uffizi. Will write more and post this all later....