Pre-dawn alarm clock settings are rare for me. It is an unacceptable era of the day. However, I will admit that this morning offered me a peaceful walk to the Galleria dell’Accademia unencumbered by tourists. I was the sixth in the reservation line, waited for about fifteen minutes, entered, dumped my bulging Captain Kangaroo cargo-pants pockets into the metal-detector tray and was third to reach the Michelangelo sculpture, for which the building was constructed, namely David. It is a dynamic statue without a doubt; even with it’s obviously out of proportion hands and especially its head. Scholars try to rationalize the problem saying that the statue was to sit high above a door (at the Duomo) and therefore the hands and especially the head would have to be larger to compensate for the fact that they would be farther away (of course none of the other statues have been treated that way and they look fine over the doors). However, if one accepts that theory then by the same reasoning the feet should be smaller than normal, as they would be closer. They are not. It’s like a docent parroting some critic-speak that Van Gogh’s Irises is painted thinly in spots (allowing the canvas to show through) so as to show the fleeting nature of spring. Bull! He was in an asylum when (it was painted) and probably ran low on paint.
Granted, Michelangelo did use a scrap piece of marble that no one wanted and turned it into a lasting symbol of Florence. And it is a thousand times better than I could imagine doing. Believe me I am well aware of how difficult the process is. But let’s be real. This is not the first time his work stretched the bounds of accurate proportioning. His Pieta (the one in the Vatican) is a wonderful act of sculpting beauty but if Mary stood up she would dwarf poor Jesus. With her, as with many, the drape of clothing can conceal a multitude of…errors.
I will admit, it was nice to see the David without bird-dropping coloration. However the hundreds of years of weathering while he was standing outside left so much wear on his foot that it looks like he has terminal Athlete’s Foot.
Just before you reach the cupola area where David stands, there is a long gallery affording a contemplative walk with the statue in full view. This is grand. However, lining the gallery are seven unfinished statues of Michelangelo. The varying stages of emergence from the marble gives a dynamic look into the process the artist employed and his caution with the material. These are simply wonderful.
The same can be said of the gallery in the far back left corner. Here are housed the plaster working models of a few hundred sculptures as well as some plaster copies made from molds of completed sculpture. Most of these are from the 18th century. Again, a wonderful look into the process. One was a working model of a sculpture I had seen. It was the model for the seated statue of Brunelleschi located across the street from his Duomo.
There is also a plaster model for the Gianfranco that resides in the Signoria Loggia that is a masterpiece in its own right.
There are hoards of great paintings by people I don’t know. Huge works and small works of different periods. If one is willing to tackle the stairs (or wuss out and do the elevator which I was…only…tempted to do) there is a rather sizeable collection of Russian Icons. On the top floor are older iconic style Italian church diptychs and triptychs. Religious guilt art.
When I left, David was standing ankle deep in a sea of humanity. Ok, 6:00 AM does have its advantages.
On the way home I stopped at the flower market to get my usual Thursday addition. Today it was a gardenia bush. (The fragrance subsequently filled the apartent.) Then I went back to the apartment, ate leftovers and…..took an hour nap.
Next for the challenge of finding printer ink.
But when I went outside it was raining and I thought this would be a good time to stop by the Salvatore Ferragamo Museum. Located on the very upscale and trendy Via Tornabuoni (it has two Bulgari stores…Rodeo Drive can’t say that). This 13 century building is the headquarters of the shoemaker. It is in the Piazza Santa Trinita right next to the Trinita bridge (one down from the Ponte Vecchio). The museum is below the shop, in the basement, where in earlier days the craftsman worked.
My favorite part was the first room. There in a case were the “lasts”. These are the wooden forms of all the famous clients feet. Gene Tierney, Audrey Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, Greta Garbo, Ava Gardner, Lauren Bacall, Bette Davis, The Duchess of Winsor, etc. One can tell a lot about the star from their feet. Clara Bow had the smallest with Anna Magnani and Bette Davis next. As the client’s foot changed the “last” had to be adjusted and to do that thin patches of leather were glued to the “last” (thus approximating…say bunions, etc.). Tiny Ms. Davis’ “lasts” had the most changes over the years. Looked like she had bad bunions. She was quite a broad.
Greta Garbo seems to have been flat-footed.
There was a large wall with all the pictures of Ferragamo and the movie industry that made him famous. From pictures of fittings with Marylyn Monroe, to the famous still of Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice in her white shorts, white turban and, of course, white Ferragamo shoes. He provided shoes for Cecil B. DeMille’s bible epics, for Marylyn Monroe in Bus Stop, Katherine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story, for The Thief of Baghdad and wild platform shoes for Carmen Miranda.
He opened his first shoe store when he was eleven but it wasn’t enough for him so he joined his set decorator brother in Hollywood. Ferragamo started making boots for cowboy movies. Success was quick, after one of the major studio heads said something to the effect that the West would have been won sooner if they had been wearing Ferragamo boots. Soon after he opened his store on Hollywood Boulevard and Las Palmas.
The final case in the entry is the one that holds the receipts for the shoes sold to celebrities during the early days. Then you walk into The Exhibition: Creativity in Color and there is case after case with the model-shoes made for celebrities and the examples of all the major colorful styles he invented and promoted. He is responsible for big platform shoe because during the war he couldn’t get quality steel for the arch of his shoes and found his famous support in solid platforms rather than the thin metal support. When, also during the war, he couldn’t get leather he experimented. He used translucent gum wrappers twisted around gold threads to make sandals. There were shoes of fish skin and sea leopard. There were carved heals, stacked heals (some of Judy Garlands were dangerously high) and every sort of color and embellishment. It was fascinating. Amazing craftsmanship. Even when I sat down to watch a documentary in the screening room (on this man who never called himself more than a shoe maker) the seats were fine leather with especially fine stitching and detailing. Ah, the smell of fine leather.
Despite the fact that the likes of John Wayne, Danny Kaye, The Duke of Windsor, etc had their shoes made here, there were no examples of men’s shoes. Well, except in the boutique upstairs. The prices, the likes of which took my breath away.
It was fun.
It was still raining and the Pitti Palace was only across the river and down the street so I ventured that way. Yes, as I expected the rain dissuaded the tourists. I got a ticket for the Galleria Palatina (the private quarters of the palace) and the Galleria d’Arte Moderna.
This place goes on forever (I later found that it is 288,000 sq feet).
Most of the private areas were re-done under the rule of Napoleon (there is a great bust of him in the Art Museum by Antonio Canova; I forgot his name and it took me forever to find it online). These spaces are a wonderful look at that period but there are three rooms that have never been touched. Completely original. Again I am going to go off on the ceilings. Yes they have great frescos. But the relief work is over the top (no pun intended). In the bedroom of the Empress, the ceiling has life sized un-painted plaster sculptures holding up, folded into and wrapped around three-dimensional botanicals in gold. Interspersed are long three-dimensional swags of fruit sculpted in white plaster. The mixture of the two is great. Of course there are the usual amazing gilt and detailed borders. My neck is sore from looking up. There aren’t a lot of windows but the ones that were open had that wonderful view over the fountain and up the Boboli Garden hill.
Period furniture and period paintings have wonderful backdrops of colorful silks. Red in one room another in green or blue. Great woodwork and trompe loi on the window shutters. I read some of the general information but spent most of my time just taking in the feeling of being there. Certain sculptures and paintings caught my attention and I spent more time with them. Tinteretto was favorably represented.
Twice while looking at sculptures I walked around behind and set off the alarms. No one ever came. But they are just enough to make you jump back.
Most things appear modern when there is a juxtaposition involving the Pitti Palace. Even the Napoleonic redecorations and items appear relatively modern. The Galleria d’Arte Moderna is a Salon style gallery filled to the brim with to-the-ceiling paintings, sculpture, some furniture and bric-a-brac. There is a heavy concentration of work from the late 1700’s to the early 1800’s and among these there is an occasional contemporary piece, many resembling German Expressionism (especially one depicting the victims of the 1966 flood in Florence). My favorite area (and also widely represented) was the period of Italian Impressionists. There were a few from outside Italy. Pissarro comes to mind.
There was a great Pio Fedi (my favorite sculptor on this trip) plaster model that was finished to the point that it looked like a nearly finished marble sculpture.
I re-traced my steps to take one last look at my favorites then down the hill and over the bridge to home.
No. I take that back. It was time to look for printer ink. I had remembered seeing some on my way to the gym so I headed that way and was lucky. Then on the return trip I had to stop to take pictures of under-window bat reliefs and other unusual window detailing that I saw once but didn’t have the camera. That got me close to a shop that caught my eye. Cheaper batteries. What a find. Then, finally home.
Pasta, of course, then out to get some cereal. I was planning to go to the opera but felt I was too tired. Well, providence shined on me once again. On the way to the Via dei Servi store (my Magi market has no cereal) just three blocks away I hear an opera aria. I walked farther, in the lightly sprinkling cool evening air. There, across from my very favorite Orsanmichele (8th century building) stood a woman singing "a cappella" opera. Some people walked by oblivious and others stopped in their tracks. Her voice was so mellow and so strong. I leaned against the Orsanmichele and listened for some time. I wanted to go get my camera to video but was afraid I would miss the performance. She was dressed in casual almost frumpy clothes. She was not attractive, not unattractive. She was probably in her mid-forties. She occasionally wiped the raindrops from her face. She did so in a way that, I can’t explain, made me feel she was shy and this was very difficult for her. She had a hat positioned before her that others and I put some money in. When I left she was still singing and four blocks away, at the edge of the Duomo, I could still hear her impassioned notes. It seems Florence always has a memorable moment to offer.
I got All Bran. Actual All Bran. Not those industrial-grade Esselunga Bran Sticks that can lacerate if you don’t take forever to soak and soften them.
On the way home she was still singing. The rain was picking up. She finished and the now crowd-sized audience applauded, as did I. It was heartening to see that her hat was now graced with a lot of one and two-euro coins and a few five-euro bills.
On my way home lightening struck over the Ponte Vecchio. I quickly grabbed a confection at a nearby shop and headed that way. Most others were dashing home to avoid the rain. More lightening. How wonderful. My favorite. And then intense crashing thunder. Again. Another flash, lightening struck the area behind the monastery at the top of the hill. Beautiful. A bunch of college-age students were there and they too were excited. I stayed for about a half an hour. The air was cool and breezy. The air pure. The sound of the rain on the tile roofs was soothing and the electrical storm exciting. It was invigorating.
Home for the evening. And now for the experiment with the bleach that I also found at the Via dei Servi. Will a gallon bring my socks and the landlord’s towels back to normal? Tune in next time for the answer.
Pictures for tonight are: Boboli Gardens from a window of the Pitti Palace private rooms, window detail (from my walk; I think it would make a great mantle), an impromptu chorus in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, a wall shrine on Borgo Pinti (on the way to my gym) and an impromptu band in the Piazza della Santa Croce.
