On Sunday morning, and I do mean morning, I was up and out early. The air was crisp and cool although I didn’t need the thermal shirt. This was Toscana Esclusiva. The once per year event occurs when private Palazzos and gardens are opened to the public. I had been told that lines would be horrible, so I chose one area, the Florence historic center (Firenze centro storico) for concentration, just north of the Duomo. I must have chosen the wrong area. No lines. I was there as the staff arrived at Palazzo Niccolini (now offices). I could have slept another hour. One of the staff informed me that only the “cortile” (courtyard) could be visited at Niccolini. That was fine. The exterior has wonderful frescos (though incomplete) and the to-the-point simplicity of the court is handsome and worth seeing. As I was the only one there, at this hour of thieves and drunken husbands, I was able to walk about imagining it was the entrance to my own home. Ah, yes. Quite a nice flight-of-fancy.
On to the next “indirizzo” (address) just at the end of the same Via dei Servi adjacent/attached to the Piazza SS Annunziata.
Here at the private Palazzo Grifoni Budini Gattai both the entry and gardens were open. I was also the first to arrive. The court was enclosed and protected. Weather and time had taken little from the craftsmanship of this space. The loggia-style furniture said “1940” and probably set the date at which time, and maintenance, became less important than the occupant’s survival. The space wasn’t grand when it was built but it had been well to do. However, as I walked from the entry area through the still well preserved intricately mullioned windows into the garden I wasn’t carried back in time. Unmistakably, I was hit with the blunt reality that all are not Medici’s; all do not have the gentle and moneyed touch of preservationists. There were occasional vignettes of beauty; but few. The exposed palazzo surrounding the garden, although one could tell it had been elegant, showed the ravages of time. And time had struck a massive blow to all but a few areas. This wasn’t a grand scene out of a Merchant and Ivory film it was a gritty independent film chronicling the surroundings of a crumbling old dowager spending her dwindling days amidst the decaying remains of her past. The weathered exterior frescos of the garden were barely visible behind the stooped and wizened gardener, gallantly doing battle with the weeds in the rose garden. It was a losing battle with overgrowth. The huge fountain on the wall of the garden-house was dry, crumbling. The story once told by the sculptures of the fountain was lost, except perhaps to the remembrances of the owner. Barely visible, as I peered through the water-fogged greenhouse glass, were the old bicycles, rusting toys and forgotten remnants of a life that was. Entangled vines had disrupted the tile on the summerhouse. A bronze Mercury was pitted and ravaged by the acid rain that was unknown when he took his place between the azaleas. This was an amazing look into the life of an ordinary Florentine. A crash course in the reality that Florence isn’t just the theme park grandeur presented to tourists. I was saddened but felt I knew the city a little better.
I went on to visit a few other places but then got lost. Just a little after I stuck my nose in the Convent of the Penitents (1257) I found another palazzo on the tour. Of the 22 homes that could be visited I stumbled on #19. This is the Palazzo Ximenes Panciatichi. The last stop on bus line #23 that I take to the gym is Panciatichi; this must be providence.
Yes, I think it was. This was a life-sized display-case of an era. This Palazzo, although not immaculately preserved, affords a perfect example of a wealthy home of that era. It was reminiscent of the great palazzos of the Grand Canal of Venice. Most notably the cake-decorating plasterwork. Intricate scrolling, ribbons, shell-work, acanthus leaves and borders covered the frescoed ceiling. The over-windows were detailed plaster coats-of-arms commemorating marriage alliances that took place in the 1700’s. There were crystal and Murano chandeliers. Paintings, statuary and long corridors lined with relatives captured in oil. The often, stern faces of the long-dead residents seemed to look down at you as you walked through, as though this was still “their” home, they might still be in charge. There were emblazoned silk hangings over some of the doorways to keep us out. One’s imagination could run rampant with guessing. There was no furniture, to speak of, except for an occasional period-bench under a leaded glass window or a bust on a pedestal, also giving you the eye; keeping watch. This sparseness of furnishings allowed me to meander aimlessly across the ancient floors and throughout the rooms gazing up and turning as if I were a camera capturing the mood of the space. This was a great and uplifting example to end my private palazzo tour.
On the way home I happened on the Museo del Bargello. I had seen it, in passing, before but today there weren’t many people, so I ventured in. This space was the first public palazzo in Florence. You enter an anteroom with the featured exhibit of the “Grandi Bronzi del Battistero (The Great Bronzes of the Baptistery) by Vincenzo Danti, a disciple of Michelangelo. The three-piece work of the beheading of John the Baptist is literally larger than life and immensely imposing. There are many other works here including the Cosimo I authorized castings, of some of Michelangelo's work, done by Danti in the 1500’s.
This is a grand space and worth the visit just for the loggia. It is open for three floors. The walls are covered with the coats-of-arms of the former Administrators of Justice that governed here. There is a three story brightly colored abstract installation piece in the center that adds balance and lightness to an otherwise dry historic assemblage. It is the only piece that is not historic. Otherwise, the place is chock-a-block with statues and artifacts. Most amusingly, the remnants of a fountain by Bartolomeo Ammannati, in one corner, with two female nudes that urinated the water into the fountain or spewed it from their nipples. If I had a palazzo I would have artists working on copies of the fountain as we speak.
Except for the first level, all the floors are ancient wood. The creaking sounds, like voices trying to tell a story. On all these levels you look up to outstandingly beautiful polychromed wood or groined plaster ceilings with wonderful frescoed scenes. Yes, there are extensive exhibits of glassware, porcelain, tapestries, intricately carved ivory, jewelry, gold and precious stones, huge Giovanni della Robia glazed wall pieces, coins and medallions, an especially wonderful (though very worn) red velvet jacket encrusted with innumerable gold studs and all sorts of sculpture from Cellini and Michelangelo to Giambologna (who did one of the great pieces in the Loggia della Signoria that I have mentioned). But the space itself is the attraction for me.
Enough. I have been very long winded and probably too historically dry tonight. No doubt I will hear about it from Alfredo tomorrow.
Your pictures for tonight are: windows going out into the forgotten garden, eaves detail of the same palazzo, a small hotel ceiling I just happened to see during the garden tour, a chandelier from the last palazzo I visited and a photo (that I had to sneak) of the ceiling in the Bargello museum.
