Studio Traveler's focus on Italian cities continues with this week's post on Florence by guest blogger Lindsay Morris. Even with art history degrees from Davidson College and from St. Andrews University, I thought Lindsay was brave to choose to Florence. How does one make the appeal of that most visited city vivid and new again? Lindsay manages to do both, partly by writing exceptionally well and partly by bringing her expert's eye to some lesser known masterpieces. With that in mind, Lindsay has aptly titled her post 'FLORENCE: A City with More Than One
View', referencing both her opening quote from E.M. Forster's classic novel and the infinite surprises to be found in and around the city.
“It was pleasant to wake up in Florence, to open the eyes
upon a bright bare room, with a floor of red tiles which look clean though they
are not; with a painted ceiling whereon pink griffins and blue amorini sport in
a forest of yellow violins and bassoons.”
E.M. Forster, A Room with a View
For centuries, the human eye has been enchanted by the magical
riches of Florence. From the
city’s blanketed natural beauty of the surrounding Tuscan countryside to the
serpentine flow of the Arno River making its way along its banks to the
Etruscan hillside of Fiesole overlooking the heart of the city, inspiration is
more than abundant. Artists even before the pinnacle of the high Renaissance
have flocked to Florence to capture its loveliness in fresco, canvas, ceramic,
sculpture and architecture.
Giotto, Funeral of
St. Francis, probably 1320s. Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence.
Perhaps the most significant predecessor to the Florentine
Renaissance masters was Giotto di Bondone. In my early travels to Florence as a
teenager I very quickly dismissed the genius of Giotto’s subtle palette and his
even more understated, yet marvelously executed skill in capturing the human
spirit. It was nearly 15 years ago that I fully appreciated the unsurpassed
execution of the simple beauty of the human soul that Giotto brings to life in
comparison to the darker palettes of his Italian Byzantine teachers such as
Cimabue. He resuscitates humanity with breath and gives rhythm to the hearts of
the human forms he creates. Unlike those artists who would learn from his
mastery and focus more on the human form like Leonardo and Botticelli, Giotto
is primarily interested in the human psyche. When I witnessed Giotto’s mastery
of the Funeral of St. Francis as a
then 20 year old art historian, I wept. The monk at St. Francis’ head pleads
with the Almighty God for St. Francis’ life as two others at the feet and hands
can’t bear to be parted. Even though I stood seven centuries removed, I could
not help, but partake in their emotional worship of their beloved. If you make
yourself even remotely vulnerable as you approach this remarkable fresco, you
will soon find yourself heartbroken.
Fra Angelico, Annunciation, 1438-45, fresco, Monastery
of San Marco, Florence.
(Probably
commissioned by Cosimo de Medici)
Just over a century later, Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, known to
us as Fra Angelico, followed in the footsteps of Giotto and Massaccio. He is
still known today as “Beato” Angelico or “Blessed” because of his pious life
and most of all the sincerity of his devotional work. Perhaps the most beautiful
and in my mind, one of the most understated tourists sites visited in Florence
is that of the Monastery of San Marco where Fra Angelico’s artistry adorns the
corridors and living quarters. As a college student studying in Florence during
9-11, I found indescribable peace in Fra Angelico’s creations at San Marco. I
especially fell in love with one of his Annunciation
frescoes. While most of his annunciations and contemplative biblical scenes are
intimately situated in the monks private quarters, this particular scene every
monk encountered various times a day as they climbed the steps to their private
chambers. Its inscription reads “As you venerate, while passing before it, this
figure of the intact Virgin, beware lest you omit to say Hail Mary”. There are
no gilded ornate emblems here, but simple unequivocal reverence. The intimacy
created by the Corinthian columns and architecture compels one to reflection
and solitude as you contemplate the tremendous calling of Mary to bear the baby
that would be Christ our Savior. For me, the calling provided space in my every
day busy life as a student exploring Florence to meditate on my life, my gifts
and inevitably my own higher calling just as the monks responded to their daily
spiritual calling.
Jacopo da Pontormo, Deposition, Capponi Chapel, Church of
Santa Felicita, Florence. 1525-26
Perhaps the most compelling and little known gem of
Florence’s artistic heritage is that of the Church of Santa Felicita and work
of Florentine mannerist, Jacopo da Pontormo, Mannerism was the artistic
response to the neoplatonic perfection of the high Renaissance and featured
human forms that were stylistically enlongated and lyrical in their rendering.
The color palette of the mannerists consisted of demarcated colors and organic
use of fabric. Santa Felicita is located immediately across the Ponte Vecchio
adjacent to the Pitti Palace. Sadly not often taught as part of artistic
curriculums, I stumbled into Santa Felicita by mistake when I was seeking
sanctuary from the heat of the Tuscan summer. What I encountered captured me both
body and soul almost immediately. Pontormo’s altarpiece features a whirling
vortex of the grief stricken. The serpentine composition gracefully flows downward
toward the limp and unnaturally contorted body of the Christ. The young man
whose very sheen of the fabric of shirt suggests the unbearable physical as
well as spiritual weight that he carries, pleadingly looks to us for help. The
burden of our sins is just too great. While nature has lost all the vibrancy of
color, the mourners interestingly have not. Their clothes are painted with a
vibrant monochrome color and perhaps hint at the joy that the Savior’s death
brings. Pontormo’s figures and their contortions represent the very essence of
the manneristic movement. The Virgin Mother’s body is unnaturally large in
comparison to the crowd enveloping her and the figures as a whole create an
architectural flow that further accentuates the weight of the melancholy. Of
all the sites in Florence, this intimate church and hidden
chapel are a must see. The beauty and genius of Pontormo were underestimated
during his lifetime and only in recent years have been given the credit they
deserve.
***All art images are from wikiart.com
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