DEAD PARROT’S GUIDE to FLORENCE (PLUS PADUA, VENICE, and ROME)
This
is my guide to Florence (with some
added suggestions about eating and touring in
and
[click on the name of the city to go directly to that section in this guide]). I have just updated it after our May 2013 trip to Florence and Venice. (It was originally written after our visit in April 1997, and it has additions and emendations as the result of our trips in April 1999, May 2003, and September 2006. It also includes schedules of hours {indicated within this sort of wavy brackets}, which, at least for Florence, were current as of the beginning of June 2013, but which change with some frequency—so, while a useful starting point, they are worth checking at the time of any visit.)
The guide is focused on the places
and people who led up to and then began the Renaissance in Florence; and, in
particular, the three men who worked in Florence together at the beginning of
the quattrocento (“[one thousand]
four hundred,” the Italian way of referring to the 15th century) and
created the architecture, painting, and sculpture of the period: Brunelleschi,
Masaccio, and Donatello (respectively).
These three men were friends (and, at least, Donatello and Brunelleschi
were close friends), were well-acquainted with each other’s work, and, probably
together at times, traveled to Rome to study the art of classical
antiquity. It provides a tour that is
roughly chronological, and, of course, can and should be rearranged to suit
where you are staying, the amount of time you have, the weather, your own
preferences, and the whims of your actual visit. Things in bold type represent those
extremely special places and objects that are ones I myself would visit multiple
times on any trip to Firenze. Things in [square
brackets] are places and activities I am not particularly interested in, and
would readily omit unless I had unlimited time—or interests different from the
ones I actually have. Items underlined
and in blue are links to places that have web sites of their
own (and can be clicked on to get there, if you are looking at this guide
online). The “*XX*” symbol indicates an unpleasant level of tourist
concentration. On this subject, there
are a few museums and sites in Florence that present difficulties in terms of
long lines to get in (most particularly the Uffizi Galleries), and I recommend
you consider purchasing either a FirenzeCard or a
membership in the Association
Amici degli Uffizi as a solution to this problem. (Since this is primarily an issue at the
Uffizi, I present a discussion of the problem and the options in the section
about the Uffizi toward the end of the Florence part of this guide.) I suggest you use as basic guidebooks for
general information, maps, other sites, etc., R. Wurman’s ACCESS: Florence and Venice and ACCESS: Rome (Harper Perennial), which are by far the best and most accurate (particularly
artistically). I have drawn art
historically on several scholarly works (at times, too heavily drawn on them,
were this intended as in any way a scholarly work): H.W. Janson, The Sculpture of Donatello
(Princeton Univ., Princeton, NJ: 1963); Bates Lowry, Renaissance
Architecture (Braziller, New York: 1965); Peter Murray, The Architecture
of the Italian Renaissance (Batesford, London: 1963); and, Charles Seymour,
Jr., Sculpture in Italy: 1400-1500 (Penguin, New York: 1966); and, on
the guidebooks just cited. Have you the
time, I recommend them all to you.
Santa Maria Novella One enters through through the garden at the
right of the façade of the church (the FirenzeCard entrance is around at the
back [railway station] side of the church) {Monday
- Thursday 0900-1730, Friday 1100-1730, Saturday 0900-1700, Sunday 1300-1700; Chiostro di Santa Maria Novella (Green
cloisters): Monday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday 1000-1600}- A Dominican church
(therefore very
large, to meet preaching needs), begun in
1246
(the façade is the
1470 work of Alberti).
This is the first Italian
Gothic church of Florence, and actually the first fully developed example of
this style anywhere.
The Italian Gothic style has certain connections to
the northern Gothic of France (which
physically entered Italy as early as 1135 in the form of the Abbey of
Chiaravalle, near Milan): the grandeur
and huge scale, the mystical and otherworldly quality of the space, the vaulted
masonry ceilings, and the pointed arches and groin vaults, themselves, are all
typically Gothic. There are numerous
distinctive differences, however: there
is always more structural presence in the walls of the Italian Gothic (whereas
the French opened the walls and filled them with stained glass); the supports
are more massive (compared to the tall, slender columns of the French Gothic);
there was no use of flying buttresses (which are necessary to thin down the
support members and open the walls in northern Gothic)—these spiky external
forms would have offended the Florentines; while there is great height, there
is not the emphasis on the verticality of the French Gothic—a strong horizontal
feel is evident in both the proportions and architectural detail (showing the
clear influence of the horizontality of the Italian Romanesque [q.v., below in discussions of Il
Battistero and of San Miniato al Monte]–as
well its use of decorative patterning in colored marble); the bays are
invariably deeper in proportion to their length (usually square) than in
northern Gothic, where they are invariably quite shallow; and, in general,
there is a greater relation to the equilibrium of classical antiquity than one
finds in the soaring feeling of French Gothic.
Interior: Italian
Gothic - a great, formative example of this style: check out the feel of the
space. Also note the use of dark gray
stone (pietra serena)
against white plaster walls—very Florentine.
Holy Trinity: 1425 (this is way out of chronological sequence here: this is one of the pivotal works of the
Italian Renaissance, although it is in a church that was the first
fully-developed Italian Gothic building.) It is a fresco of the Holy Trinity (God the
Father enclosing Jesus on the cross, with the Holy Ghost as a necklace-line
bird between their heads) by Masaccio, on left side of nave, in the
middle. Note the classical architectural space he created for the scene (so
markedly different from the space of the church it is in) and the general
classicism of the references, the accurate use of linear perspective, the statuesque and sculptural nature of the human forms, the
emotion. A work of major
importance, here.
[Crucifix: Supposedly by Giotto;
in the La Sagrestia, off the left transept.]
[Cappella Filippo Strozzi: some frescoes by Filippino Lippi (who is good, but not nearly as good as his father,
Filippo Lippi—you have to look carefully at some of these names!), at right
front of the church.]
Chiostro Verde (“Green Cloister”): {
Monday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday 1000-1600} One now
enters through the church itself, through the garden at the right of the façade
of the church (the FirenzeCard entrance is around at the
back [railway station] side of the church).
This relatively undistinguished cloister contains a fabulous
cycle of frescoes by Uccello—but,
unfortunately, as of this
visit, these marvelous frescoes are off somewhere being restored, and therefore
are not available for viewing. Many
of the frescoes were in poor condition; but the magnificent “Flood” fresco had been largely intact
and gave some sense of the genius of the artist. (I’m interested if any of my readers know of
any other work anywhere nearly this old that powerfully and realistically
contains a direct representation of weather, as this works so successfully
does.) I sincerely hope that the
restoration does justice to these wonderful paintings.
Il Duomo - Santa
Maria del Fiore - begun in 1294 (much of the design was done by Arnolfo di Cambio), this cathedral is
the heart of the city. (The photograph
below is one I took from the top of the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio.)
Exterior: late (19th
Century), but still an example of the Florentine love for pattern and, in
particular, for the patterned use of different colored marble—although this
example is pretty gaudy.
[Porta
della Mirandola, sculptural entry on N exterior wall: a very
interesting project containing works by all sorts of people, including
Donatello, but confusing without a plan]
Interior: Another
example of Italian Gothic style–again, get the feel of
it: it helps to then understand what is
going on in the changes that occur with Brunelleschi. Worth noting:
on entrance wall—3 stained glass windows by Ghiberti, and a big clock,
the hands of which move backwards.
(Access to the central space of the Duomo,
always interfered with by the volume of tourists, it now further restricted by
barriers which restrict access—and intensify the crowding.)
Dome by Brunelleschi
-1420-36 [One
can climb up into the structure of the dome, which ought to be interesting and
provide spectacular views of the city, but I never have done it. *XX*]
Beautiful proportions,
although more Gothic in design than he would have done had he not been
constrained by the pre-existing structure and underlying shape; and an
engineering marvel. The problem was that the
Florentines had constructed a cathedral so big (this has directly to do
with penis size and competition with the surrounding penises of Sienna and
Pisa, in particular) that they couldn’t figure out how to build a dome over the
140 ft opening they had created 180 ft off the ground. A dome is essentially an arch in three
dimensions (the construction of which is easier for us two-dimensional thinkers
to envision), and one builds one by first placing a horizontal beam across the
spring points of the arch and then building a frame in the shape of the arch to
support the stones until the keystone (the somewhat triangularly-shaped center
stone at the top) is put in place—at which point the whole thing is
self-supporting, and the framework can be removed. Since there were not many 140 ft trees in
Italy, this presented a problem. Brunelleschi finally came up with the
solution (inventing, along the way, machinery, construction techniques, and
materials to make it possible—examples of which can be seen in the wonderful Museo dell’
Opera del Duomo [ q.v., below], across the street behind
the apse of the cathedral): he designed
a dome that consisted of pointed sections, supported by 8 vertical ribs
(visible on the exterior). The structure
of the sections between the ribs was designed so as to be as light as possible: a lattice of minor ribs and open spaces,
contained between the two walls of the double shell Brunelleschi
constructed. The final solution to the
unsupported construction problem was to build the dome in horizontal units,
each roughly circular and self-supporting on top of the level which had just
been finished below it.
Il Campanile
(“The Bell Tower” - begun 1334) Called “Giotto’s”
because he was in charge of the construction for a period—but only because he
was Florence’s most famous artist. As a
painter, he actually contributed little to the plan or building.
Exterior: much better
example of Italian Gothic—still pretty over the top, but much more
beautiful. Note where the statuary is placed,
high up on the façade; but don’t waste time looking too carefully, as they are
only copies. (All of these very
important works are actually in the Museo
dell’ Opera del Duomo, q.v., below.)
[You can
climb up inside for the view, but I never have.
*XX*]
Il Battistero
(“The Baptistery” - 5th century, although the Florentines of the
Renaissance mistakenly thought it was a building from classical antiquity)
Exterior: good example
of Italian Romanesque (only better one in Florence is San Miniato al Monte, q.v., below): more horizontal and
squat, with the exterior shaped by the form of the interior space [not unlike
the Romanesque in northern Europe], but with a characteristic, Florentine,
patterned use of colored marble—done in a lovely, far less gaudy way,
however.
Bronze
doors: (It is not clear that any of the three
sets of doors are in fact real; I have never been able to get a
satisfactory answer to this question.
The east doors, Ghiberti’s
“Gates of Paradise,” most certainly are only copies; the real
ones are in the Museo dell’ Opera del
Duomo [q.v., below]. As for the rest, there is no other place to
see the real ones, even if these are only copies; so it’s worth a look here.)
[-South doors:
By Andrea Pisano, done in 1330. Basically International Gothic
in style, but with some marked influence of Giotto. Upper 20 panels are of the life of John the
Baptist; the lower 8 representing the virtues.]
-North
doors: (also the entrance to Il Battistero *XX*) Done between
1403 -24, these represent the project Ghiberti
won the right to do in the competition of 1401 (his entry in the
competition—better than any he did for the actual doors—is in Il Bargello (q.v., below), along
with that of the runner up, Brunelleschi.) The upper 20 panels depict New Testament
scenes; the lower 8 the 4 Evangelists and 4 doctors of the Church. (For stylistic comments, see remarks about
his competition panel in Il Bargello.)
[-East doors: copies of Ghiberti’s “Gates
of Paradise,” 1424-52. Copies of the 10 gilded bronze panels
representing Old Testament scenes. *XX*]
Interior: *XX* usually not worth the crowds; but, if
they are not too bad, there is the tomb of Anti-Pope John XXIII (Cardinal
Baldassare Coscia), done as a collaboration between Donatello and Michelozzo;
and the Romanesque decoration of the walls (especially the simplified animal
figures and geometric designs on the colonnade level) are lovely.
Piazza della Signoria
- a place you need to stroll through a couple of times, despite the crowds of
tourists to be found here.
Loggia
dei Lanzi - 14th century
Gothic loggia full of basically bad sculpture.
[-Ignore in front of the Palazzo
Vecchio the copies of Michelangelo’s David (the real one is in the Academia) and Donatello’s Judith and Holofernes (the real one
being upstairs in the Palazzo Vecchio;
and I am mortified that in the original edition of this guide I had
suggested that it might suffice to look at this terribly inferior copy).]
Palazzo
Vecchio (“Old Palace”) {0900-2400, Thursdays 0900-1400}
- done in 1298 by Arnolfo di Cambio
(you’ll notice this guy gets around: he
was the most important architect of the Italian Gothic in Florence).
The Palazzo
Vecchio once housed the government; Cosimo di Medici lived there for a
while in the 16th century, before his wife talked him into moving to
the Palazzo Pitti. Take a good look at
it and take a quick walk around inside on the ground floor, which is
interesting Gothic architecture—often full of beautiful flowers. Upstairs in the museum (which requires an
admission fee), you can stroll through the rooms of the Palazzo and take in the
interesting decoration of the rooms (although it is not worth focusing on any
particular part of it except the map room [near the exit on the third floor],
which is extremely interesting. Just
outside the entrance to the map room is what makes it really worthwhile
going into the museum level—Donatello’s
marvelous bronze statue of Judith and
Holofernes, ca. 1456-60, a great, totally free-standing work, which
combines multiple views into a plastic unity.
The
two figures are twisted and intertwined, and yet the action is curiously
restrained, given what is actually taking place, heightening the sense of
dramatic tension within the figures. The
pose—Judith with her left leg over Holofernes’ right shoulder, stepping on his
right hand, and her right leg between the legs of the seated Holofernes,
placing his torso between her legs (cf. with the pose of Donatello’s bronze David in the Bargello [below])—captures the sexual
aspect that is one side of the story; while her upraised sword and her
wrenching his head back and sideways to expose his neck to the impending blow
captures the rest. We spent over an hour
just looking at this one masterpiece from many different angles and
distances—and we did on many subsequent visits, as well. If you feel up to a very long climb, you can
walk up to the top of the tower and be rewarded with totally magnificent views
of the city and surrounding hills The view below is in the direction of the Bargello, the building in the center of
the foreground).
Loggia del Ospedale
degli Innocenti (“Loggia
of the Foundling Hospital”—out of chronological sequence here:
it should follow Santa
Croce, but since your visit there will also expose you to one of Brunelleschi’s important, developed,
later works [the Pazzi Chapel], it’s
important to see this first) —it was a
1419 design by Brunelleschi,
completed 1424. (It is the outside loggia
that is important; the rest of the building was done by Brunelleschi’s students.)
This
single example marks the true beginning of Renaissance architecture. (q.v., Bates Lowry, Renaissance Architecture.) It all begins here! Brunelleschi
has gone back to classical forms—rounded arches with a horizontal element above
them, Corinthian capitals, pilasters, and, behind, a vault that is formed by a
series of small domes (carried on the columns of the loggia and on corbels on
the surface of the hospital wall, creating square bays that are not
cross-vaulted as they would have been in a Gothic design, but purely classical
shapes) —that had not been utilized since antiquity.
He
has integrated these classical elements with elements of the Italian Romanesque
(e.g., using dosserets over the capitals) and some of its feel (e.g.,
the horizontal emphasis). It should be remembered, however, that Brunelleschi—like other
Florentines—believed these Romanesque elements were examples of
classical antiquity.) But he comes up
with a sense of lightness, rhythm, and rational “grasp-ability” that was new
and different from anything before it.
No distracting ornamentation, no mystifying and humbling sense of
inhuman scale—but rather an understandable, mathematically proportioned space
that feels immediately comprehensible by the viewer. Grand only in its
simplicity. One can detect the
influence of this design in the work of Masaccio
and Donatello—as early as in Masaccio’s Holy Trinity and the
niche Donatello and Michelozzo designed for Or San Michele,
both done in the mid-20’s.
Santa Croce {0930-1700, Sunday & holidays 1300-1700} (there
is now an admission fee charged to enter the church, but it includes entry into
the museum and Pazzi Chapel [q.v., below]; buy tickets around the
left outside wall of the church) Santa Croce is another major example of the
Italian Gothic by Arnolfo di Cambio,
begun in 1294. This is a Franciscan church
(absolute poverty as a principle—remember?), which was built in competition
with the Dominican
Exterior: Like so many,
actually 19th century.
Interior: Again, a very
Italian Gothic feel; but note the open timber ceiling (rather than having the
weight of masonry vaulting, this form is much lighter, permitting lighter
support columns that lend an airier feel), and the different proportion between
the nave and the aisle bays (bays are longer and shallower, giving a little
less typical Italian feel—but still unmistakably Italian).
Going
down the right aisle [quickly get by Michelangelo’s tomb *XX*] and arrive at–
Annunciation by Donatello: Toward the
apse end, on the right wall of the aisle of the nave is Donatello’s amazing Annunciation, done in gilded pietra serena (that gray stone mentioned
above), ca. 1428-33. Check out the marvelous composition: the balance of the angles and forms, the
movement from the angel to Mary—and yet the emptiness of the tension-filled
space in-between them, and the reaction of her body—startled and starting to
move away, but drawn back by the angel’s gaze (note the visual connection
between their eyes and faces), the emphasis on the dramatic moment.
Look
at her face—one of the few really beautiful female representations in the art
of this period; and look at her emotions.
And
do not ignore the compositional suggestion of the force of the angel’s
“message” to Mary—the intense triangular area of radiation from his center
outward towards her. The mutedly implied
sexuality is picked up in the placement of her hands and the folds of her
drapery. The sexuality—implied, denied,
and sometimes rather blatantly expressed—of this pointedly “non-sexual” moment,
is a very curious element in all Annunciation scenes [cf. the extremely un-sexual, but incredibly beautiful version by Fra Angelica in San Marco). Remember, this
is the moment that the Virgin is being “told” by the angel that she is pregnant
with Jesus; but is actually the moment of her immaculately being impregnated by
the Holy Spirit. Sexual
or non-sexual? You decide.
[Cappella Castellani: In right (west) side of the right transept;
frescoes by Agnolo Gaddi and his
pupils depicting the lives of the Saints.]
Cappella
Baroncelli: At the end of the right transept; frescoes by
Taddeo Gaddi (Agnolo’s father, and
Giotto’s pupil) of the life of the virgin.
The father’s work is much better than the son’s.
Cappella
Bardi and Cappella
Peruzzi: These two chapels are immediately to the
right of the altar.
The Cappella
Bardi, the closer to the altar, contains frescoes by Giotto
of The
Life of St. Francis; and the one farther from the altar, the Cappella
Peruzzi, contains The Life of Saint John the Evangelist—the best of Giotto’s work in Florence, although
they were badly damaged at one point, and their restoration was not altogether
well-done. (The only better Giotto frescoes—and they are much
better—are in the Cappella Scrovegni in Padova.) Although clearly a medieval
painter, Giotto represents a major
move forward towards the Renaissance; and, while not actually a part of the
Renaissance, his work has elements and implications that formed the major
influence in the tradition of Florentine painting that led eventually to Masaccio. Figures begin to have much more material existence
and corporeal presence in the painting of Giotto. He employed contour line, modeling, and
shading to create a sculptural presence in his figures. His people have far more personality than
those of any prior medieval artist, or any subsequent one for almost 100
years. He also demonstrates a masterful
grasp of composition: the arrangements of the elements to each other (and to the plane of the
fresco wall) is carefully integrated into the overall design. Each grouping within each fresco has its own
compositional integrity, and together they form a powerful and expressive
rhythmic whole. While apparently in better condition, the
frescoes in the Cappella
Bardi (e.g., The Stigmatization of St. Francis
below)
are
actually far inferior to those of the Cappella
Peruzzi—I suspect due to poor restoration work on those in the
former. In my opinion, the best of these
frescoes is The Apotheosis of St. John the Evangelist
(the lower panel on the right wall of the Cappella
Peruzzi, the chapel on the right).
The
action is framed and balanced by the two groups of figures, one on either side
of the main action, and each contained within its own architectural space. In contrast to this grounded and static base,
the center of the space opens to allow the movement of Saint John ascending
heavenward—rising through the opening architecture toward the angel coming
forward to receive him from above. Note
the personalities in the faces, the sculptural feel of the drapery, and the
beautiful use of color. The detail below
of
St. John from St. John on Patmos is a quite wonderful.
These two works, alone, merit spending significant time standing and
absorbing, as do some of the lesser works of these two chapels.
Crucifix
by Donatello: In the left transept. Ca. 1412, and thought
to have been done as part of a friendly competition with Brunelleschi. Wonderful, but difficult to
see well.
Cappella
Pazzi and Museo dell’ Opera di Santa Croce: (these are
now entered through the right side of the nave in the church itself, without
any separate admission fee)
Crucifix
by Cimabue: Although
tragically damaged in the flood of 1966 (the image below shows on the right a
pre-1966 photograph; the image on the left is in its current state), this
magnificent painting by Giotto’s
predecessor (and probable teacher) is quite moving. Cimabue
has far more Byzantine influences in his style (this Byzantine influence is characteristic of
the Sienese tradition of painting, by the way) than Giotto ever was
affected by, but his painterly quality and interest in the human form was
extremely important in Giotto’s
development.
St.
Louis of Toulouse by Donatello: (this statue—without its niche—is currently
at the Palazzo Strozzi in the Springtime of the Renaissance exhibition.) Niche and statue were done for the Parte
Guelfa to be placed on Or San Michele.
Donatello did them between 1422-1425;
and Brunelleschi’s influence seems
evident in the classicism of the elements of the niche (cf. the very Gothic niche Ghiberti made at the same time for Or
San Michele). Statue itself is done in fire-gilt bronze,
which, because of its size, required that it be constructed out of several
separate plates, assembled on a framework of metal bars—a totally novel
approach. Note the extraordinary drapery
of the clothing, hinting at the structure of the body underneath, and the
personality expressed in the face.
This
figure is radically different from most of Donatello’s
other works: it is calm and
contemplative, with an almost mystical air.
But this presentation fits the character of the subject: St.
Louis was a contemplative, holy man who renounced his kingdom to become a
friar.
Last
Supper by Taddeo Gaddi: Wonderful
fresco at far end of the room.
Pazzi
Chapel by Brunelleschi: This marvelous little building was planned in
the mid 1430’s by Brunelleschi (and thus is out of
chronological sequence here. If
possible, it is far preferable to see the Sagrestia
Vecchia at San Lorenzo before
seeing this later work—but, hey, you’re there now. ). It is a more complicated and
elaborate version of his plan in the earlier Sagrestia Vecchia (q.v., below), which consisted of a main
square area covered by a hemispheric dome, with a small choir with a similar
square shape covered by a dome.
Taking the radius of the dome over the central square here to be one unit, “r,” the sides of the central square are 2r in length. On the wall opposite the entrance, there is an opening for the scarsella (the altar), which is a square 1r on each side, and covered by a dome, the diameter of which is r. On either side of
the central square Brunelleschi added small ‘transepts’ which extend the width of the interior space ½r on either side of the central main square under the dome–effectively resulting in lateral areas equal to the opening of the scarsella (1r) on either side of the scarsella, and creating a total width of 3r. In elevation, the chapel is divided into two zones of equal height (2r each): the lower consisting of the flat side walls up to the top of the main entablature; the upper half being sub-divided by a smaller entablature into two equal zones of 1r each—the upper of these being the hemispheric dome, and the lower containing in the four corners pendentives, spherical triangles which transform the square into a circle to accommodate the circumference of the dome. The square scarsella space is balanced by a square entry vestibule outside the doorway, which is extended on the exterior by 1r square areas on each side—creating an overall width that is 3r (three of these units), and covered by a very classical, heavy barrel vault with a central, defining dome shape over the entry vestibule.
The thing that struck me on our most recent visit was that there is a tension in the rhythm of Brunelleschi’s building between twos and threes (and between threes and fours). Using the same unit “r” from the previous analysis, one could conceive of the building having a central area (or, for those who can handle all three dimensions, one could think of this in terms of volumes) 2r deep and 3r wide (this relationship being obscured by the way the floor is patterned—the three transverse units are there, although the outer ones are obscured by being subdivided in half, and the longitudinal ones are totally obscured by the centering of a 1r square under the dome, which results in two ½r rectangles on either end of that central square); and the longitudinal dimension increase to 3r if one includes the depth of the scarsella—creating an implied square, 3r on a side. There is also a 3r square if we envision the 1r x 3r area of the portico as part of the floor area—but that leads to a 4r x 3r total implied floor area if we then include the scarsella.
What
results is a space that exists in a mathematical relationship to its
constituent parts. This form results in
an almost musically harmonious feeling:
one is within a spatial harmony, with various overtones. The rhythms and harmonies are emphasized—and,
perhaps, over-emphasized—by the pilasters and trim on the walls and the
patterns on the floors–which are created by and therefore echo the underlying
mathematical relationships.
This
is a space that the human mind can grasp and be at peace with. It is stately and grand, but in a quiet,
stable, and tranquil way. Spend some
time just sitting in this space to get the feel of it. It’ll do you good! But the amount of decorative detail results
in its being not nearly as calming or successful as the less adorned, subtler
space of the Sagrestia Vecchia of San Lorenzo; and the decorative
patterning also serves to amplify the problems of the design. (If you are interested in the
problems of his design, look at the corners: he still hasn’t figured out how to deal with
the converging pilasters in a satisfactory mathematical way. [He doesn’t figure this out until Santo Spirito.] Also notice that there
are some minor discrepancies in the actual mathematical integrity of the
horizontal plan of the width of the chapel: he was forced to compromise the
exactness of some of these mathematical relationships in order to preserve the
continuity in the appearance of the decorative trim [essentially he had to
extend the vertical dimension to allow for the full width of the pilasters on
either side of the choir and the archivolt they support]—which, as Nancy
pointed out, was a good artistic decision.) The exterior, which was completed later by Brunelleschi’s students, is less
completely effective; but his basic plan is still in evidence and wonderful.
Special Note: Anytime you
are in the area of Santa Croce, don’t miss the opportunity to stop in at Vivoli
(via Isola delle Stinche 7r, between via Burella and via della Vigna Vecchia) to have the best gelato
in
Il
Bargello: (“The Captain
of Justice”) {open 0815-1650; Closed: 2nd & 4th
Sundays and 1st, 3rd, and 5th Monday of every
month} This trecento palace was the
first town hall, and the site of numerous public hangings. It also contains some of the world’s greatest
sculpture. Take in the look and feel of
the main courtyard.
Ground
Floor: Some lovely Michelangelo works: Brutus, Bacchus, the Pitti Tondo
(i.e., round medallion), and a David
(that isn’t so good); [also, lots of Giambologna,
if you are so inclined (actually, the Hermes
is quite wonderful); and Cellini, if you must.]
First
Floor: (go up outside staircase from central
courtyard, if it’s open [otherwise, use the stairs inside, across the
courtyard]; and take in architecture at the top of stairs. Then turn to your right to enter Sala di Donatello.) On your way out of the Sala di Donatello, it is well worth looking at
the bronze birds by Giambologna in the open balcony—they are truly
wonderful in a humorous, almost modern way, that always puts me in mind of Picasso’s ceramic birds, and especially
his owls. [There are
some other interesting things on this floor and the one above, but nothing
important.]
Competition
Panels: (On the back wall, to the right of S. Giorgio; but currently these panels
are at the Palazzo Strozzi in the Springtime of the Renaissance exhibition.) These are Ghiberti’s winning submission and Brunelleschi’s runner-up entry in the 1401 competition held to
award the commission for the north doors of the Baptistery. (There were many
other entries, all lost to posterity.)
The general form of the panels, and of the ones eventually on the doors,
is a Gothic motif—a quatrefoil; the theme was The Sacrifice of Isaac. The two finalist works are both incredible,
although Ghiberti’s is more the
ultimate culmination of what has been while
Brunelleschi’s is a somewhat rougher hint of what is to come. Spend some time taking in the two of them.
Ghiberti: The winner,
and deservedly so. This panel works
better: it is beautiful and powerful and
has a more polished style. His
composition uses the Gothic form of the quatrefoil to maximum advantage. There is more depth to the space he
creates. The strongly modeled figures
twist gracefully in a in rhythmic overlay that
represents the ultimate refinement of an International Gothic feeling. The angel sweeps forward out of the pictorial
depth. The mood is actually gentle,
given the subject matter: it represents
a pause in the action, reflected in the balance of the composition.
Brunelleschi: Also
magnificent, if not nearly as elegant. A
shallower, more rigid composition, with the figures and landscape elements more
sharply separated—in a way that lends an almost abstract quality to the
space. Note the focus on the intensity
of the human emotion (e.g., the expression of horror on Abraham’s face
as he moves into the action, and the fear in Isaac’s face) and on the crucial
moment of the action: the powerful
thrust of Abraham’s arm as he forces Isaac’s head back to expose his neck; the
knife poised at the moment of being thrust into Isaac’s throat; the force of
the angel coming in from the left, his outstretched arm countering the thrust
of the knife. The tension of the drama
is caught at its highest point. The
conception of human life with which this relief is imbued has far more to do
with what is to come in the Renaissance—and with the work of Donatello, in particular.
Donatello:
Marble David: (1408-9) Perhaps his first
major work. The idea of presenting David as the youthful victor over
Goliath may have originated here with Donatello. This is a work poised between the
International Gothic and the Renaissance:
its style is quite linked to the works of Ghiberti, and yet there are, particularly in the face, hints of individuality,
humanity, and classical beauty. Also,
more effeminate than one would have imagined David as being (note the similarity to the face of the Virgin in the Annunciation in Santa Croce).
St. George Tabernacle: (1415-17) Done for the Armorers’ Guild for Or San Michele.
Niche: The depth of
the architectural setting for San Giorgio was restricted because
the site it was designed for had a staircase in the wall behind which didn’t
allow for the same depth as the normal niches.
Donatello has used this
situation to marked advantage here, however:
he allows the shallowness of the space to project the figure out into
the space of the real world. (It has been suggested that
the statue originally held a sword in its right hand, which would have even
more dramatically projected the figure out into the space in front of the niche.) This figure
dynamically emerges out into the world in a way no other statue on Or San Michele even approaches.
San Giorgio: Strikingly
posed with his weight unevenly distributed towards his left foot while his body
turns toward the right, the statue conveys the sense of fear, doubt, and inward
struggle for decision to take action. And inward struggle, decision, and interior
crisis are what Donatello is most
wonderfully about. (My undergraduate
dissertation was about Donatello as
a creator of art imbued with a tragic sense of life—which, I believe, is all
about such inner struggle and taking action in a world in which rationality can
be sought, but in which not everything succumbs to the desire for rationality.) This young
warrior-saint is heroic, yet not without anxiety; his complex human emotion is
clearly evident in the dramatic moment of inner tension captured by Donatello. San Giorgio sees the task before him
and is summoning up his courage to confront it—but he is in no way certain that
he will prevail. The only certainty is
that he will undertake the task. Below I
offer two images of this fabulous sculpture, one from the left and the other
form the right, because on our most recent visit Nancy advanced the theory that
in the former there is a bit more resolve in his countenance, whereas in the
latter there is more doubt (and youthfulness); in any event, the effect is to
convey the combination.
The
Relief Sculpture: (Currently this relief is at the Palazzo Strozzi in the Springtime of the Renaissance exhibition; the
relief under the statue here is currently a plaster copy.) Don’t overlook the
incredible marble schiacciato (“flattened-out”) relief under the statue
itself: it is the representation of St.
George slaying the dragon. Here is a different dramatic moment, at the
height of the action.
Note
the incredible space and depth Donatello
has created in this very shallow, schiacciato relief (this panel is the first real
example of this form which was to become an important Florentine style): both through
the use of linear perspective in the building on the right (it is worth noting that
this example of linear perspective predates its appearance in any painting—let
alone any other sculpture—by a minimum of five or six years!) and through the use of chiaroscuro (light and shade)
and atmosphere (check out the wonderful trees in the background between St.
George and the maiden).
Notice
the horse, and especially how well he is able to sculpt its head using
virtually no actual depth at all on the relief plane. This schiacciato technique respects the integrity
of the surface of the relief in a way that creates a tension between actual
surface and pictorial depth that becomes increasingly important in Donatello’s later reliefs. Even the dragon’s cave is wonderful.
A
new speculation: On our 2003 visit to S. Giorgio, a radical
possibility occurred to us. We were
discussing the way Donatello has
used this sculpture actively to move out into the space in front of the niche
and to control and shape it. Having been
introduced to the Japanese architectural idea of the “stolen garden,” the way
an architectural construction can actually make use of the pre-existing
buildings and other features around it (a great example of this in Western
architecture is the way Mies van der
Rohe captured the surrounding space in his Federal Center complex in
Chicago—something which had been pointed out to us by Alex Garvin, who was accompanying us on this visit to Italy), I
raised the question whether it was perhaps possible that Donatello had done something similar here. We all agreed that he certainly was
commanding the space of the street—particularly with the powerful and riveting
gaze of S. Giorgio outward, obviously in the direction of the
dragon. We then went off to look at the
copy of the statue and its niche, in place on the exterior wall of Orsanmichele. Believe or not, at the exact point (both in
terms of angle and focal length) of S. Giorgio’s gaze, there is
round-arched doorway, articulated in rough-hewn stone, in a quattrocento house
at via Orsanmichele, 6!! Could it be
that Donatello was actually using
the architectural elements of the street as an implicit part of the sculpture
construction he was creating? Stand in
that doorway and look S. Giorgio in the eye, and then you
decide. But if he actually was using
that doorway to represent the dragon’s cave, it would be an unbelievably
radical example of the “stolen garden.”
Il
Marzocco: (“The Lion of Florence” - 1418-20) Distinguished by the
way the animal visage is suffused with the expressiveness and nobility of Donatello’s human forms—this is one
hell of a lion!
Bronze
David: (1430-32) This is the first
totally free-standing sculpture (intended to be viewed in the round as opposed to in a niche) and the first nude sculpture since classical
antiquity! While what is most
immediately striking about this David is that he is presented as a
highly erotic, extremely effeminate, beautiful young boy, note also the
tremendous classicism of the form and pose.
Also, the specific proportions of the figure exactly replicate those of
the norm in classical
Niccolò
da Uzzano: (ca. 1460-80) Very moving human depth in this
bust.
Crucifixion: This very
late (ca. 1470-80) bronze relief was probably designed by Donatello, as it has some of his feel; but it was almost certainly
executed by his students, as it just isn’t quite up to his standards in certain
important ways.
San Lorenzo: {1000-1650;
Closed: 2nd & 4th Sundays and 1st, 3rd,
and 5th Monday of every month} Brunelleschi
did his design for this church starting about 1419, although much of the work
on it did not get done until the ‘40s, and it was not completed until long
after his death in 1446.
The
basic type of the church is quite closely related to that of the Italian
Romanesque: the flat roof of the nave
rising above the aisles, the aisle bays are topped with simple domes, the use
of dosserets above the capitals.
The
details, on the other hand, are elements straight out of classical
antiquity: the pilasters, the elegant
columns, the capitals, the coffered ceiling.
The precise mathematical harmonies of the space are pure Brunelleschi, however: the domed crossing of the church is a square
unit that is repeated on each side to form the transept,
and
repeated behind the crossing for the choir; the nave consists of four of these
units, flanked by 8 square aisle bays on each side—each one half the side of
the major square, and, naturally, one fourth the area.
(For
those who like the problems: the fact
that the side chapels were so high off the floor meant that, in order to have
the columns be the same height as the pilasters on the side walls, he had to
utilize very large dosserets over the capitals to make up for the difference in
elevation; he solves this problem at
Santo Spirito.) Here, once again, we are in one of the spaces he
created that is both light and grand, understandable
yet impressive, rhythmic yet stable; and the trim and architectural decorations
all combine to enhance these effects.
Twin
Bronze Pulpits by Donatello: ca. 1460-66 (on both sides of nave at front)
South
Pulpit: (on right; at the moment this pulpit is being
restored [interestingly, on site, where it normally stands in San Lorenzo, but not in public view.)
This is an incredible masterpiece. The
side facing in towards the nave is a Resurrection,
in which Jesus harrows Hell and then rises.
The picture of Jesus is unique in all of the art of this period: one can see the human dimension of his
struggle and suffering.
He
does not rise from his time in the underworld triumphant and untouched (as in
the typical iconography): rather he is
haggard, weary, and tattered from what he has endured. Jesus drags himself out of Limbo, his face
drawn and his eyes squinting from the strain.
It is a vision that is unique even for the Renaissance: it is not a picture of the triumph of reason,
or of the victory of human (or divine) striving over all obstacles; it is a
picture of the most intense striving against forces that do not so easily yield
to these efforts. Again, it is a tragic
view of life.
North
Pulpit: (on left) Crucifixion
stories. Note particularly the marvelous
architecture spaces created in the reliefs and the way they frame, emphasize,
and enhance the action. One of the most
wonderfully unusual reliefs on this pulpit, Christ Before Pilate, Donatello treats the psychology of the theme of Pilate in a totally
anomalous way: Pilate is usually
represented as evil (and often portrayed as in league with the devil), and
sometimes represented as a saint (as in the Ethiopian Church); but Donatello, always attuned to the nuance
of moral dilemma in the human situation, treats him as an individual facing an
impossible decision.
His
“alternation” and indecision is represented by the extraordinarily unusual
symbol of the servant who is bringing Pilate the water with which he will
eventually ‘wash his hands’ of the situation:
this servant, immediately behind him, is presented as a two-faced Janus
figure.
In
this unprecedented iconographic departure, Donatello
is clearly emphasizing the indecision and moral dilemma Pilate faced in making
his judgment: he found no evil in Jesus,
yet he was unable to dispute the charges of his accusers.
Sagrestia
Vecchia: {now open whenever the
main church is} Brunelleschi’s Old Sacristy (entered from the left
side of the transept) If you are like us, you will want to be able to
be inside this architectural masterpiece for the better part of an hour or more. The plan was
done in 1419, and the actual building was done 1421-1428, well before the rest
of the church, and therefore really a building in its own right. It is the first centrally planned
building of the Renaissance—and it is a true marvel.
The main area is a square with a hemispheric dome over it. Assigning “r” as the radius of the dome, the
sides of the square are 2r in length. The one side is divided into thirds (each
section therefore being 2r/3 in width), the central one being opened up to form
the entrance to a small altar, which itself is then a square (2r/3 on a side)
with a hemispheric dome (radius=r/3). The main space is horizontally divided
into three elevations: the lowest level consists of the side walls, which rise
flat up to the entablature; the middle level consists of the continuation of
the side walls up to the level of the springing of the dome—the four corners of
which are formed into pendentives, spherical triangles which transform the
square into a circle to accommodate the circumference of the dome [It has been
speculated that this particular section of Brunelleschi’s
design may have been influenced by his friend, Donatello, who also did the round reliefs that decorate the four
pendentives.]; the third is the hemispheric dome itself. The dome is, of course, 1r in elevation, as is
the middle level with its pendentives.
There are many claims made as to the elevation of the lowest level and
its relationship to the whole—all of them erroneous! [The people at the church
itself claim that the building consists of two cubes (of 2r on a side) on top
of one another: the top one consisting of the upper two sections, and the
bottom one consisting of a cube in its own right, therefore claiming the
elevation of the lowest level to be 2r. One scholarly work by Peter Murray
claims (and has a diagram to demonstrate it) that the lower two levels
form a cube—with the elevation of the whole being divided into three equal
heights of 1r each.] On extremely careful observation, Nancy and I are
completely convinced that the height of the lowest level of the space is, in
fact either 2r/3 or 3r/4 (it being impossible to estimate any more closely than
that); but that it is definitely not either 1r or 2r. The pilasters
which carry the entablature are modified Roman forms, much like those Brunelleschi used in the Loggia of the Foundling Hospital. Springing from the tops of the pilasters on
each of the four flat surfaces of the middle elevation are pairs of
semicircular archivolts, with radii of 1r and r/3.
But
what is going on in this building goes far beyond the mathematics of the
underlying relationships: just as the
mathematics underlying musical composition are only implicit in the actual
experience of the music when heard, it is the magnificent feel and experience
of this space that matters. The space Brunelleschi creates is truly
encompassing in a way that is not at all overwhelming. This is a space designed to be grasped
by the people in it: it is
understandable, comfortable, yet inspiring.
Once again, I return to a musical metaphor: the mathematical interrelationships are
experienced as harmonious, even without one’s direct consciousness of their existence. (In his latter version, the Pazzi Chapel, Brunelleschi’s use of ornament makes these relationships more
insistently present in the experience, in a way that makes it not nearly as
effective or successful as it is here.)
It is a space that has been created by man’s rationality, and it feels
understandable to those in it. Here is
truly a place to spend some time in order to absorb the feel of what the
Renaissance is all about
.
Donatello’s
Pendentive Sculptures: These scenes from the life of St. John the
Evangelist (Vision on the Isle of Patmos, Raising of Drusiana, Liberation
from the Cauldron of Oil, and Apotheosis) are done in painted
stucco, and were probably executed in the mid-1430s. They are great examples of Donatello’s ability to create space both architecturally and
through subtle shading and painterly suggestion, and have it function in real,
impressionistic, and symbolic ways. (It is of great importance to note that Donatello very early on had mastered the principles of linear
perspective, but that he often purposely violated their rules to achieve
particular effects—often for thematic or dramatic reasons.) While all
four reliefs are magnificent, the Apotheosis
is by far my favorite.
The
strong horizontal base (which projects forward in the foreground of the space
across the bottom of the relief) creates a solid grounding upon which the
action occurs. In the next level, the
figures are contained within the highly symbolic architecture. But this very containing architecture itself,
through the exaggeration of perspectival effect, leans inwards to emphasize the
movement of the main action, which is that of
Other
Sculpture by Donatello: The bronze
doors of the martyrs and of the apostles; the reliefs in painted stucco over
the doors of Saints Stephen and Lawrence and Saints Cosmas and Damian; Four Evangelists
(about which there is much question as to the artist); there is also an
absolutely beautiful bust of San Lorenzo on a counter on the entry wall
(despite the magnificence of this piece, its attribution to Donatello has been
severely questioned.)
Cappelle
Medici: *XX* One enters through the back of
Sagrestia
Nuova: Begun by Michelangelo in 1521 and completed
by Vasari in 1555, it is architecturally restful after the Cappella Principi,
but not in comparison the Sagrestia Vecchia of Brunelleschi. Some good Michelangelo sculptures: Dawn and Dusk (on Lorenzo’s tomb) and Night
and Day (on Giuliano’s tomb, opposite).
If you check out the female anatomy, you realize the big M wasn’t
terribly into the female form. There is
also a Madonna and Child by him.
Museo di San Marco:
{Monday-Friday 0815-1350; Saturday & Sunday 0815-16:50; closed 1st, 3rd, 5th
Sundays of each mo., and 2nd, 4th Mondays} The (eventually Dominican)
church and monastery of San Marco, built in 1299, were the home base of Fra
Angelico (and Savanarola, too). As
such, it houses the best, most loving, beautiful paintings he ever did. While Fra Angelico (cited as “Beato [Blessed]
Angelico” in this museum) is not part of the same humanistic spirit that lay at
the heart of the Renaissance, his paintings, particularly here in his own
monastery, are so wonderful and sensitive that they bear special attention
(look particularly closely at the faces: not the monumental humanity of
Masaccio and Donatello, but a spiritual beauty, instead). On the ground floor, immediately to the right
as you enter is an area that houses twenty of his magnificent works. There is also a wing that houses architectural
fragments from various sites in
Also upstairs are the monks’
cells—many with frescoes done all or in part by the master (see cells numbers
1, 3, 6, 7, and 9, using Access: Florence to guide you).
Museo dell’ Opera del Duomo:
{0900-1930, Sunday 0900-1345} This may be my favorite place in Florence, and it
is definitely not on the tourist itinerary, which is a great plus. It contains all of the great sculpture that
had originally been on the Duomo, Baptistery, and Campanile–much of which was
done by Donatello. It has been recently
been completely renovated, most successfully.
It is now beautiful even as a modern exhibition space.
Ground
Floor:
Brunelleschi Memorabilia: Fascinating
collection of things made, designed, and used by Brunelleschi in constructing the dome, including a model for the
dome itself.
Sala
dell’Antica Facciato del Duomo: (Room of the Old Façade of the Duomo) Various sculptures
and architectural details from the old façade, including works by Arnolfo di
Cambio (architect for the Duomo and many other Italian Gothic buildings in
Florence), and
Nanni
di Banco: Marble statue of a seated St.
Luke (1408-15) by this contemporary of Donatello. He was an important reviver of
ancient Roman forms, and therefore valued the effects of weight and mass in
sculpture. This work is quite wonderful–note especially
the tilt of the head, the face, and the way the lowered eyes create a look that
meets and holds your gaze.
Donatello: Seated St. John the Evangelist
(1408-15). This work was clearly
designed to be seen from below, in a way that the Nanni di Banco’s was not.
The placement of the niches for these works was to be slightly over the
head of the observer (here they are at least placed at a relatively elevated
position which, while not high enough to recreate the original effect, is much
better than the low placement of Donatello’s
Campanile prophets upstairs), and to see the full effect of Donatello’s composition you have to
bend down, or kneel. Looked at head on, the
composition does not even make sense (the torso is too long, the drapery too
complicated, and the position and expression of the face isn’t comprehensible),
while viewed from below it resolves into a powerful and stable triangular
composition in which the torso shortens and assumes a meaningful structure and
the folds of the drapery over the knees take on shape and direction, and the
head begins to show energy and nobility and the glance becomes purposeful. It clear that Donatello’s entire composition was adjusted to the viewpoint the
observer was meant to have in relation to the sculpture in situ. (This is particularly
important to note, not only because it demonstrates his elegant grasp of
perspective and optical effect, but because it makes an irrefutable case for
viewing his Campanile prophets from the acutely low angle they require. Upstairs I’m going to insist you actually
need at least to sit on the floor—if not actually lie down!—
in order to view the works properly.) The result is a figure whose dignity and
sense of purpose is clear: as
Mezzanine: Half way up
to the second floor is Michelangelo’s Pietà
(ca. 1550), originally designed for his own tomb. The story goes that Michelangelo smashed the
work, which was later reassembled by a pupil, who completed the figure of Mary
Magdalene.
Second
Floor:
Main
Room - Donatello:
IMPORTANT: The four statues of prophets (and the Abraham and Isaac) made for the façade of the Campanile (the first
five in the following list) must be viewed from sharply below in order
to see them as Donatello meant them to look! As you saw from the placement
of the copies on the Campanile itself, they were positioned very high up
(~10 meters), and, as discussed in describing the St. John the Evangelist (q.v.,
above), Donatello clearly
took the angle of viewing into account in his plan of these figures. They simply do not compose properly viewed
head on. You actually need to sit
down on the floor to view them.
This is not an exaggeration—if anything, it is an understatement: it’s probably best to lie on the floor
to view them (although a bit awkward)!
(Try for yourself the comparison of looking at them head-on with viewing
them from below.) Sitting actually
allows you to spend the time to take them in more fully, too. Do not neglect to move to a position 30-40º to
either side of each statue, as well as head on in order to see the full
richness of what he has created. If you have hesitation about
spending that much time on the floor, do it at very least for the two most extraordinary
of these work, Lo Zuccone
and Il Popolano (q.v., below). To make the point, in the section below I
juxtaposed two similar photographs of Il
Popolano, the one taken from below, and the other head-on—and if
that doesn’t convince you to get down on the floor, nothing will!
Beardless Prophet: (1416-18) The earliest of the
prophets. The head is particularly
interesting: it clearly is based on
classical Roman portrait types, but it also has an extraordinary level of
individuality and of realism in the portrayal of age and suffering—yet not
without firmness and resolve. Donatello at this early stage in his
career is beginning to explore the realism of physical and psychological
experience, in a way that is to reach fruition in Lo Zuccone and Il
Popolano (q.v., below). The hands are also marvelously
strong—particularly the right hand, with which the prophet insistently points
to the scroll containing the message he has been
charged to deliver. It has been
speculated that the weaker drapery of this figure is attributable to its having
been executed by Donatello’s
assistant Nanni di Bartolo, known as Il Rosso.
Bearded Prophet: (1418-20) This figure is far
more pensive than its slightly earlier companion, yet it lacks none of its
power. There is the suggestion that this
prophet is someone who has faced adversity; yet the monumentality and a
nobility of the form, reflected in the power of the drapery, reassures us that
he has not been shaken in his resolve.
There is an unmistakable individuality and vivid personality in the
face.
Abraham and Isaac (done with Il Rosso): (1421) While the design of this piece was
certainly Donatello’s, the execution
was done in part by his assistant. The complex,
intertwined composition must be Donatello’s. In this piece, the height of the dramatic
moment has passed. Unlike Brunelleschi’s competition panel of
this scene, which captures the very highest point of the tension and drama,
here the tension is beginning to relax:
Abraham’s right arm is starting to slacken, and the knife is slipping
away from Isaac’s throat; Isaac is in a state of passive acceptance; the angel
has come and gone. Nevertheless, what
remains is the close, human contact of this father and son, with nothing to
mitigate the immediate implications of what Abraham had been about to do. Abraham’s pained expression gives the
impression that he is well aware of the horror of the deed he had been about to
commit.
These next two, Lo Zuccone and Il Popolano, are perhaps my
two favorite sculptures in the world! Again,
I remind you that they must be viewed from sharply below in order to see
them as Donatello meant them to appear.
Lo Zuccone (?Jeremiah?): (1423-26) The reason for the question
marks in the title of this and the next prophet relates to the fact that there
is a controversy as to which is which.
The descriptive names, Lo Zuccone (“The Pumpkin-head”) and Il
Popolano (“The Man of the People”), are not in dispute, but the names of the
prophets they represent are, as are the dates which apply to each. (The Habakkuk [as referred to in the
records of the time] is the later of the two works, but it is not clear to
which of the actual statues this name—and therefore this dating—applies. I have chosen to list and date them as Janson
and Seymour do; but this is not conclusive.
Traditionally, the opposite view is held to be true—and that is how they
are labeled in the Museo del Duomo.) So
I’ll stick to using the descriptive names for practical purposes. Here, then,
is a photo of Lo Zuccone:
Il Popolano (?Habakkuk): (1427-35) To make the point that these statues must be
viewed from below, I have here juxtaposed two similar photographs of Il Popolano, the one on the
left taken from below, and the one on the right head-on:
You will note that when viewed head-on, the body of
the prophet dissolves and loses its strength and three-dimensional presence;
the drapery becomes shallow and loses its power; and the intensity of the left
hand and the statement it makes clutching the scroll of the prophet’s message
all but disappears. Having made this
point, though, I encourage you to focus only on the photograph on the left.
By
your leave, I am here going to quote from my undergraduate dissertation, Donatello
and the Tragic Sense of Life.
(Please pardon my 21 year-old prose, which itself
is now more than four and a half decades old!):
Donatello most fully realizes the tragic potential of the prophetic theme in his last two prophets, Il Popolano and Lo Zuccone. In these two figures Donatello embodies all the powerful human drama of tragedy.
Il Popolano is a strong-willed, determined man who faces
his task with unswerving directness. Donatello has depicted him in the very
act of delivering his message: in his
left hand he clutches the scroll which contains that message. This is not a scroll which he displays, as
did the Beardless Prophet. That
earlier prophet was cast as a Roman orator, and his scroll was a formal device
of rhetoric, used by him as a prop. The
scroll of Il Popolano is not something he uses visually to inspire his
audience; on the contrary, it is something from which he draws his personal
inspiration. This scroll is his own little fragment:
it is a humble document, crumpled from long use. It draws its significance not from its
physical characteristics, but from the moral importance of its contents; and it
becomes an important part of the statue not through optically asserting itself
on the viewer’s senses, but through psychologically asserting itself on the
viewer’s overall comprehension of the work.
It is important to the statue because it is so greatly important to the
prophet. The scroll symbolizes the
message to which he has chosen to devote his life. He faces his people to propound that message,
holding his scroll before him almost as if for moral support.
It must be remembered that the message of the
prophet was never an easy one for his audience to accept. The Old Testament prophet had a message that
was primarily moral and a role that was essentially that of social reform. His was the difficult task of convincing his
fellow men of their injustice and iniquity.
Moreover, he had to get them to change their ways. People are never readily convinced that they
should change. Thus the work of the
prophet was always met with much resistance.
Il Popolano would appear to react angrily to the
resistance he meets in propounding his message. The intense furrow of his brow, his tight
frown, the tensed muscles of his face, the strained sinews which stand out on
his neck—his expression reveals an angry disapproval, not only of his people’s
iniquity, but also of their blindness.
He has tried to warn them, and they have not accepted his message.
Il Popolano looks angrily away from his people. His gaze is off to the left and up—above the
heads of his audience. He averts his
gaze not to ignore his people and become introspective, nor to turn to an
ascetic mysticism by withdrawing from the demands of the situation, but rather
to gather his energy for another volley.
He is disgusted with his people and his entire figure reflects the
tension of his anger: the muscles of his
right arm are tense and strained, causing the veins to stand out sharply; his
right hand is angrily pressed so hard against his thigh that it gives energy to
the powerful undulations of drapery that seem to spread away from this gesture
as ripples spread from a disturbance on water.
Nevertheless,
he will not abandon those who have caused this anger. The determination in his gaze is as obvious as
the anger, and in his entire figure one feels a solidity that reflects his
resolve. His strong conviction obviously
will triumph over those feelings which try to shake it. He looks away to regain his composure, but he
will again return to his task. He faces
great adversity, but he will never yield to that adversity.
There is in Il Popolano a powerful realization
of the tragic implications of the role of the prophet. In it one can see what it means, in human
terms, to devote one’s life to propounding a message that people do not wish to
hear. One feels with the prophet the
anger and frustration of being rejected by the very people to whom he has
dedicated his life. One feels the
suffering of a man who is willing to step outside the system and question
accepted norms. In the fiery spirit of Il
Popolano, Donatello seems to
have recaptured something of the Old Testament, tragic concept of the prophetic
life.
Il Popolano—as Lo Zuccone— is a work of art that is imbued with psychological complexity,
intense emotion, human nobility, and a view of the world—and of human action
within it—that is radically different from everything which has gone before
it. Allow yourself to stand (or, more
correctly, sit) it awe of it.
Mary
Magdalene: (1454-55)
This wooden statue once stood in Il Battistero; but, after having been
terribly damaged in the flood of 1966, it was moved to the Museo del Duomo. It has been
extensively restored and painted–and finally it again looks like I originally
remember it. It is still a striking
work, however: the harshness and extreme
suffering so clear in this haggard creature was a major departure for Donatello, and was said to have evoked
a large degree of religious fervor in those viewing it. It has even been suggested by Janson that it
foreshadows the shift towards such fervor that ultimately culminates in the
ascendancy of Savanarola, whose turning away from the rationality of the
Renaissance towards older religious fundamentalism marked the later years of
the quattrocento in
Cantoria: (1433-39,
over the statue of Mary Magdalene) This was probably really an organ
loft. It is by Donatello, and it is a brilliant work, although it is not the part
of his talent I am most interested in.
Main
Room - Work of others:
Cantoria
by Luca della Robia: (opposite one by Donatello)
Even less interesting than Donatello’s.
Sala
delle Formelle: (“Room
of the Panels”)
Eight
Panels from Ghiberti’s “Gates of Paradise”:
(1424-52) All ten of the recently
restored, magnificent gilt bronze reliefs Ghiberti
did for the East Doors of Il Battistero are now assembled in a
climate-controlled display on the first floor of the museum.
(For over 30 years, there
were four on display and the rest were “undergoing restoration”; and another
four reappeared 8 years ago; now, finally, the project has been completed!) Each panel is
a square, in contrast to the Gothic quatrefoil form used for the other doors of
Il Battistero. The original plan called for 28 panels, as in the two other sets
of Baptistery doors, each with an Old Testament story; but Ghiberti reduced the number of panels to 10, combining multiple
segments of these stories on each panel.
In the Cain and Abel
relief, he combined five separate elements:
Cain at Work, Abel at Work, the First Parents at Work, Cain
Killing Abel, and God Cursing Cain. In the beautiful Adam and Eve relief, he combines what was
to have been three separate reliefs: The
Creation of Adam, the Creation of Eve, and The Expulsion from Paradise.
All
ten of these reliefs are truly beautiful sculptures, although Ghiberti never quite makes the transition into the
Renaissance—and his attempt at these more Renaissance forms lacks the power and
success of his earlier competition panel, done in a more Gothic style. Ghiberti
included a self-portrait among the other details in the border surrounding the
reliefs:
The
room off the other side of the Main Room: This room is full of very interesting
architectural details, mostly from the façade of Il Campanile.
Orsanmichele: In the center
of
Cappella
Brancacci (Brancacci Chapel) in Santa Maria
del Carmine: {Monday-
Saturday 1000-1700; Sunday 1300-1700; closed Tuesday} (the entrance is through
a door to the right of the façade of the church; there had been a fascistic and
ridiculous system imposed on visitors, which, at least for this visit in May
2013, was no longer being enforced: you waited for ~15 minutes until you were
allowed to go in through the cloister to the ticket office, where you bought
your ticket and then had to wait another 15 minutes until you were allowed into
the chapel, where you were allowed exactly 15 minutes to view these magnificent
frescoes. It was truly absurd, and, had
it not been for the importance and beauty of the art, I’d have refuse to consider doing it.
Thankfully, this was not the case on this visit, and we were able to
spend unlimited amounts of time luxuriating in the presence of these incredible
frescoes. Nevertheless, I am unhappy to
report that the signage still suggested that this regime may be imposed when
there is a higher volume of visitors to the Chapel.) This chapel is in the “Oltrarno” (“other side
[of the Arno]”—i.e., the ‘left bank’), in the otherwise entirely uninteresting church of Santa Maria del Carmine.
The Cappella Brancacci contains some of the greatest paintings of the
Renaissance. The fresco cycle,
essentially about the Life of Saint Peter,
was begun in 1424 by Masaccio
working together with Masolino. There was an obvious collaboration on the theme and
plan of the cycle—and they divided the space up so there was to be a pattern of
interspersal of their individual works. Masaccio left the project unfinished to
go to Rome in 1427 or 28; and some of his frescoes were completed later by Filipino Lippi.
The Expulsion from the Garden of Eden: The first of
the great contributions of Masaccio,
on the top left of the chapel as you enter.
This fresco captures the essence of the Renaissance spirit: man, even as sinner, has unlimited dignity
and stature. There is a strength and
monumental presence in the form of these figures—not to mention a classical
beauty. They,
and Eve in particular, capture the full extent of pain and suffering in the
human condition.
Masaccio captures emotion and dramatic intensity to an extent
unparalleled by other painters of his day—but very akin to the spirit captured
by Donatello. Note also the composition: the fiery red angel above pressuring them out
of the Garden with the weight of his powerful gesture and creating the movement
at the heart of the theme. (cf., the
Temptation of Adam and Eve [below] by Masolino,
opposite: a wonderful work, but with
none of this humanistic emphasis.)
The Tribute Money: (immediately
to the right of the Expulsion) Here Masaccio presents three separate moments in the story: in the central space, the tax collector makes
his request and Jesus replies with directions to St. Peter; to the left, Peter catches the fish and takes
the coins out of its mouth; on the
right, Peter hands the money over to the tax collector. (It has been suggested that the theme was chosen and
presented this way to help elicit support for the collection of a new tax in
Note
carefully: the classicism of pose and
the sculptural monumentality of the figures; the individuality and emotion in
the faces (look especially carefully at these [the head of Jesus in the center
of this work is shown below]);
the
perfect use of linear perspective in the architectural elements, combined with
the painterly creation of space in the landscape in the background (cf., the similar
combination in the relief panel Donatello
did for the St. George now in Il
Bargello); and the beauty of that
landscape, itself.
The
Raising of the Son of Theophilus and Enthronement
of St. Peter: (directly below the Tribute Money) This fresco was
most probably designed by Masaccio, although
there are many hands involved in the execution.
In
the Enthronement scene
(at the right of the work), it is clearly mostly Masaccio—particularly the magnificent St. Peter (below)
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|
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and the
four figures at the far right (which are actually portraits of [from left to right] Masolino, Masaccio, Alberti, and Brunelleschi, with the self-portrait
of Masaccio facing out at the
viewer).
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Other
stuff by Masaccio: Most
authorities believe The Baptism of the Neophytes (above, to the right of the
window; shown below) is by Masaccio;
Similarly, the one of St. Peter Healing the Sick with his Shadow (to the left of the
window, below).
Most
of the rest is by Masolino, with
some later work by Filipino Lippi (e.g.,
St. Peter in Prison—under the Expulsion, on left); all far less
interesting than the astounding works of Masaccio.
Santo Spirito: {8:30-12, 4-6; closed Wed. afternoons} This church is the culmination of Brunelleschi’s development. It was commissioned in 1434
and begun in 1436, and it therefore represents his latest and most mature
style. Also, in this church he was not
encumbered by an existing building program—so he could plan it exactly as he
wished it to be. It was not completed
until 1482, 36 years after his death, however, and there were many
controversies that resulted in alterations to his plan: the main ones involve the front of the
church, which was supposed to have a continuation of the domed square aisle
bays that he carefully continued around the entirety of the rest of the design
(and, therefore, there should have been four doors on the west end of the
church); and the exterior was to have
reflected on its surface the semicircular shape of the chapels, instead of
being filled in flat as it is (this, more than any other detail, reveals Brunelleschi’s connection to Romanesque
architecture; in this regard, notice also the strong horizontal
emphasis.). The basic plan is not unlike
that of San Lorenzo, but here the
mathematical harmonies are perfect and complete.
Brunelleschi has also added a rounded feel—both in the semicircular niches of the chapels (they
were flat in San Lorenzo) and in the
counter curves of the half-columns at the entrances to the chapels (they were
flat pilasters in the earlier church).
This use of round half-columns also solved the ‘corner problem’ Brunelleschi had experienced elsewhere
(where two pilasters joining in the corner had to be cut in half, diminishing
the perfect feel of the proportions).
The square of the crossing is repeated in each arm of the transept, and
four times down the nave. On every
outside surface of these main square units, there are two half-sized square
domed bays, with semicircular niches on the outside wall.
This
system follows uninterrupted around the entirety of the church—except for the
entrance, where there is a half unit extension of nave which obviously was intended in
the original plan to contain the two missing chapels to complete the perfection
of the design. The proportions of the
elevation have also been perfected: the
aisle bays are exactly half the height of the nave bays. The incredible
effect of the great ring of columns that extends around the entire space of the
church, and the systems of bays and semicircular niches behind, can only fully
be appreciated by walking around the space and stopping at many points to take
it in. (Try out all the central spots [e.g.,
the entrance—inside what should have been the first set of aisle bays, the
crossing] as well as all the extremes [e.g., the corners of the
transepts and choir, and their bays].) Notice also the Roman feeling of grandeur,
not as much present in his earlier buildings.
Even the detail is perfection:
the coffered ceiling, the trim.
Soak up the feel of the place: it
is the magnificent culmination of an incredible artist’s career!
San Miniato al Monte: This little
treasure is perched on a hill with the best view of
There’s
another way down (q.v., below); or you can take a cab or the number 13
bus. The
church is a great example of Italian Romanesque. The façade, which dates from ca. 1090, is reminiscent
of classical architecture (and, remember, the Florentines thought these
buildings were much older than actually was the case), with rounded
arches carried on columns and a triangular pediment. The presence of these markedly classical
elements is far more typical of the Italian Romanesque than of its counterparts
elsewhere in
Interior: Note the
rounded arches carried on columns that separate the nave from the aisles. These forms are reminiscent of those later
used by Brunelleschi, although they
are much heavier and more squat.
Clearly,
he drew on this model, although he used a very different sense of
proportion—and employed mathematical relationships to create spatial harmonies
simply not present here. Nevertheless,
this is a beautifully compelling space.
If
you have time, observe a mass being said to get the real feel of the
place. In the crypt (behind and below
the altar), are some frescoes by Taddeo
Gaddi.
When
finished here, walk down the stairs and turn right until you come to the-
Piazzale Michelangelo: This place has
a great view (and still yet another copy of David), but is a major
tourist stop! *XX*
I’d carefully (so as
not to get trampled or run over by a tour bus) hurry through it. Off to the right begins a path (not
the road) that cuts back and forth through lovely gardens until you reach Porta
San Niccolò, a three story medieval tower near the river. A great walk.
Uffizi: *XX* {Open Tuesday to Sunday 0815–1850; Closed Monday} The
collection of painting here is vast, but the tourist density can present serious problems. My main piece of advice here—and it is a very
valuable one—is to warn you that getting into the Uffizi is usually a
nightmare—even if you have bought a ticket online or you are using the FirenzeCard (this
pass, which provides free priority admission [one cuts some of the lines] for a
72 hour period to many of the museums and sites in Florence [including the
Uffizi; click
for complete list], costs €50, and, while it can be purchased
online, basically needs to be picked up at some of the same designated
spots where you would purchase one there [unless you have over a month for
them to mail it to you]): one still has
an enormous line to wait on to get in
(often in excess of 1 hour). And without
either a ticket or the FirenzeCard,
just forget about the whole thing! It’s usually more than a three hour wait! The best
way to get into the Uffizi is to purchase a membership in the Association
Amici degli Uffizi (it costs €60 for an adult, €100 for a family [two
adults + two children under 18], and is good for 1 calendar year [Jan-Dec];
membership can be purchased
online, or by mailing, faxing, or bringing in person the downloadable
form; the huge advantage is that you
enter through door No. 2 [where one also can buy the membership, if doing it in
person], where there is no line
[except a tiny section where you join near the front of the queue for
security]; there is a list of
other museums and sites it also gives you free admission to in
Florence.) Whether to buy a FirenzeCard or a
membership in the Association
Amici degli Uffizi is a complex question: neither is a great saving in terms of money;
and most museums in Florence (other than the Uffizi and Santa Croce [and the Academia, where we do not go]) do not have
long lines; from our point of view, the only real issue is getting ourselves into the Uffizi. Then there is the question of which to get,
if one is going to purchase one, and here it is something of a toss-up:
membership in the Association
Amici degli Uffizi wins hands down for getting into the Uffizi—it is
without any question worlds superior on this count [which, I guess, is why I
have placed this discussion here]; but the FirenzeCard provides
a way to cut the lines at Santa Croce
[which, while in no way as formidable as those at the Uffizi, can be annoying
long]. There are far more museums that
the FirenzeCard gets you
into (the Museo
dell’ Opera del Duomo, Santa Maria Novella,
Palazzo
Vecchio, Palazzo Strozzi, and the Cappella Brancacci being the mains ones—none of these presenting
problems getting in, but the profusion of them providing some financial advantage),
but it only allows one visit to each museum (whereas visits as a member of the Association
Amici degli Uffizi are unlimited), and it last for only three days,
while the other lasts for an entire year.
Anyway, we’ll choose to go with the membership in the Association
Amici degli Uffizi; but it is something of a toss-up. This may be the
most practical advice in the entire guide, however!
As for the museum itself, I
basically entrust you to Access:
Florence and your own preferences to guide you through the treasures
here. While there is a vast trove of
riches at the Uffizi, most if it is in directions we do not like: if you’re a fan of Leonardo or Botticelli,
the Uffizi is a place you can spend days.
The only reason we always go to the Uffizi, however, is to see the unbelievable
Battle of San Romano
by Uccello in Room VII
[click on the link or the image for a much higher resolution photograph].
This
magnificent painting, almost abstract in its rhythmic patterning, is the best
of the three versions done by Uccello—the
others (click on the names of the museums for images of the version there)
being in the Louvre and the National Gallery in London
(which provide the major reason we visit those museums when in Paris and
London!). While we go for the Uccello, while there I suggest you also
take notice of the
following: the Cimabue and Giotto in
Room II; and the fabulous work by Durer (if you’re interested in a
non-Italian suggestion) in Room XX.
Galleria dell’ Academia: The home of
the real David, copies of
which are almost as numerous as tourists in
[Palazzo Pitti: If you like
Titian and Raphael, you’ll love this Oltrarno museum—it has many wonderful
examples of both. (see
Access:
Giardino di Boboli: This is a low
priority, but, if you have lots of time, the climb through these expansive
gardens next to the
Restaurants IN
Il Cibrèo: Splendid restaurant, the pinnacle of Tuscan
‘home style’ cooking (but don’t be fooled by that description: it’s a sophisticated operation, and they even
have a branch in Tokyo)—it’s a must! If you
take only one of my restaurant suggestions, make it this one. Long ago we decided that we should have gone to
it at least twice the prior trip, as it is so much superior to any of the other
restaurants in Florence—the only other contender is Enotecca Pinchiorri (q.v.,
below), which is a place of an entirely different sort (more French than
Italian), and, compared to that one, Cibrèo
is actually a bargain, although not cheap.
This trip we ended up eating there three out of our four nights in
Florence—and we were totally pleased
that we chose to do so! The unexpected
treat of this visit was to discover that Ristorante
Cibréo had just decided to open on
Sundays! This is a rarity in
Florence, where most restaurants are closed on Sundays—and virtually all good
restaurants are also closed on Mondays.
(Please do not, in an
ill-advised attempt to economize, go instead to the trattoria or caffe which
Cibrèo has opened around the corner.
They are not the same thing as
the ristorante—in terms of the
quality either of the food or of the general experience. Go to
the main restaurant!) There is no
menu, but one of the senior staff (often Christina,
who has been there for all the decades we’ve been going, or Guilio, the manager, and the son of Fabio Picchi, the owner and chef) sits
down with you and explains in detail your dinner options. On the website,
Signor Picchi describes there
offerings in the following way:
Going along with the Chef’s fantasy, our menus
basically follow the rhythm of the seasons. While apparently still, they move
throughout Winter, Springtime, Summer and Fall and
slightly change each month, each week, each day.
We avail ourselves of fishermen from the Tuscan sea, of farmers nearby Florence
and their tender green ''radicchini'', of hundreds of other suppliers that are
constantly in touch with us.
The adverse weather conditions may influence the fish menu, hot Septembers can
lead to an early ripening of the green fig, warm
Novembers can extend the porcini mushrooms availability.
It is since September 8th 1978 that we embrace our shepherds and their cheeses,
the butchers and their meats, the pasta makers from Puglia region, Florentine
olive pressers, producers of Sicilian lemons, “Clementini” tangerines growers
from Calabria and truffle diggers from San Miniato and Piedmont.
The oregano provided by Francesca from Pantelleria reminds us that she is our
“most ancient” supplier together with many wine producers that follow and
constantly inspire us with their work.
We take good care of our pickled and under-oil products as well as of the honey
from Elba island. We could never use vacuum-packed or
deep-frozen foods, we reduce the use of the fridge to a minimum and we are
absolutely fond of our pantry, a philosophy that enlightens our steps. We may
not have mentioned everything in this few lines, not for forgetfulness but for
due discretion, as we are quite jealous of our contacts, which are obviously
within everybody’s reach.
At the beginning of the meal
they serve a series of wonderful “antipastini”
(what I now know amuses gueule are
called in Italiano) to welcome you to
the table: the old standards are still
there—trippa alla fiorentina, spicy tomato mousse, chicken liver crostini—along
with several new ones; for i primi,
there was the most intense, spicy fish soup I’ve ever tasted, there was their
signature yellow bell pepper soup (unbelievable!), there was a gorgonzola
soufflé with a meat sauce—there were all sorts of delights, except there never is pasta—it is just not
traditional in Florence (although most restaurants there serve it); and for i secondi, there was veal in a spicy
tomato sauce, ox tail stew, a fabulous whole local fish I had never heard of, a
delicious roast pigeon, just to name a few; and for desert, a chocolate tart, a
coffee Bavarian cream, a flourless chocolate tart—along with some other
marvelous confections they brought us, “just for the hell of it.” They have a fabulous wine list, and the
entire staff is quite knowledgeable and helpful about it—although Hugo, the sommelier, is far more
knowledgeable. And they also have
extraordinary bread, something not so generally available in
Enotecca Pinchiorri: This
restaurant had been closed for renovations during our 2003 visit, but it has
since re-opened. It is a magnificent
restaurant: beautiful decor, superb
food, unbelievable wine, and perfect service.
It is one of the only restaurants in Italy (and one of only a few
outside of France, actually) to have two Michelin stars—and I suspect it is on
its way to a third . Unfortunately, it is almost
obscenely expensive; when we went in 2006, it was twice as expensive as it was
nine years ago—and more than four times the cost of a lovely meal at Cibrèo.
If you do it (and can bear the sticker shock), though, do a degustazione of food and of
wine! Click here
for a link to the food and wine we consumed on this (2006) visit. The first time we were there, I had the gran menù degustazione: dorad in balsamic vinegar, foie gras with
salad, lobster in a bisque with spring vegetables, a
fresh tomato and vegetable soup, an intermezzo of necce (sp?)—a chestnut
and ricotta confection, medallions of veal, talleggio in mille feuille, and an
apple tart. Our wine degustazione included a delicious
Rothschild white I didn’t know, an all-Sangiovese red, a terrific Bonnes Mares
(although, what Bonnes Mares isn’t terrific?), and an Ornelia (a marvelous
Tuscan wine). Dress is quite formal
(jackets required, tie appropriate); reservations a must. Tel.
+39 (55) 242777. Via Ghibellina, 87.
Buca Lapi: “Buca” means
“hole,” but this basement restaurant is a pleasant place for a casual meal. Great for bistecca alla
fiorentina. They do their
meat cutting as well as their cooking in a kitchen that it is possible to see
into from many parts of the restaurant.
Good crostini and pastas; reasonably priced Tignanello ’98 on the wine
list. Moderately priced. Informal.
Tel. 213768. Via del Trebbio
(right next to Palazzo Antinori)
Don Chisciotte: A bit more
formal than most places in
Trattoria Cammillo: Rather touristy, this place
still has quite delicious food—including some very tasty pasta dishes, and
quite respectable bistecca alla
fiorentina—in a comfortable, very informal setting. What makes it truly exceptional, however, is
that it is open both Sundays and Mondays—which makes it virtually
unique in Florence. Borgo San Jacopo,
57R; +39-(55) 212-427. Closed Tuesday and Wednesday.
Il Latini: A fun place to eat—very informal, very
inexpensive, long tables where you sit with other people, and OK food (tasty,
nut nothing special—which has been there forever. The house wine (a chianti
in large bottles on each table) is drinkable.
The mixed appetizer (which includes bruschetta, crostini, prosciutto,
and salami) is great; the ribollita or ravioli makes a great first course, and
the bistecca alla fiorentina is reasonable
here. The problem is that there are no reservations (no matter what they
may tell you): the door opens at 7:30 exactly, and the mob that has formed
outside simply pushes in. Get there by
7:15 or 7:20 at the latest, and push on in with them! (The place is much
bigger than it appears from the outside, by the way.) Via dei Palchetti, 6r (between v.
della Vigna Nuova and v. dei Federighi)
PADOVA
Padova is worth a trip for
two reasons: La Cappella Scrovegni, site of the best Giotto
frescoes in the world (and a lot of them!); and the Donatello sculpture (our man spent 10 years in Padova,
1443-53) in the Basilica of S. Anthony, or Il
Santo, as it is known. It’s also
a pretty interesting town, as it turns out—and the home of one of the world’s
oldest universities, known as Il Bo. One
can stay very inexpensively (LIT. 217.000; and comfortably, if in a manner that
is in no way charming) at the Hotel Donatello (yes, that’s right…)
immediately across from Il Santo. (Our
room actually looked out on Il Santo,
and Donatello’s equestrian statue, Gattamelata.) Walking around the area of the University is
fascinating (it’s about half-way between La
Cappella Scrovegni and Il Santo). Dinner at La Vecchia Enotecca
(near Il Bo) was an unexpected treat:
great food, moderately priced, and a wonderful Barolo, all in a lovely
setting.
La Cappella Scrovegni: (or, Arena Chapel, as it is sometimes
called) 1305-6. Three
dozen of the most beautiful, well-preserved works of Giotto. Although clearly a medieval painter, Giotto represents a major move forward towards the Renaissance;
and, while not actually a part of the Renaissance, his work has elements and
implications that formed the major influence in the tradition of Florentine
painting that led eventually to Masaccio. Figures begin to have much more material
existence and corporeal presence in the painting of Giotto. He employed contour
line, modeling, and shading to create a sculptural presence in his
figures. His people have far more personality
than those of any prior medieval artist, or any subsequent one for almost 100
years. He also demonstrates a masterful
grasp of composition: the arrangements
of the elements to each other (and to the plane of the fresco wall) is carefully integrated
into the overall design. Each grouping
within a fresco has its own compositional integrity, and together they form a
powerful and expressive rhythmic whole. In all of these frescoes, try to notice the powerful
composition Giotto uses, and look closely at the marvelous faces—note the
tremendous individuality and feeling, even in the animals, by the way. Plan to spend at least a couple of hours
here: these are works that merit
concentration and lingering appreciation.
I’d suggest you slowly go through the entire cycle, looking at each
carefully; then go back and really study the ones you loved the first time
through; and, finally, do the entire cycle one final time to see if you notice
anything different. If it’s not too crowded, sit
down on the side benches in the front while looking at the lower ones in that
part of the chapel (to conserve energy!).
The Story of
Joachim and Anna: The sequence of six panels begins on the top right (facing the front)
of the chapel and reads from front to back:
Driving Joachim out of the
Temple, Withdrawal of
Joachim among the Shepherds (look at the face of the shepherd on
the right—he looks almost like he was painted by Millet!), Annunciation to Anne, Sacrifice of Joachim, Dream
of Joachim, Meeting of Joachim and Anne.
The Story of the Virgin: It continues on the top left with another six scenes
going from back to front: Birth of Mary, Presentation of Mary at the Temple,
Consignment of the Virgin, Entreaty for the Flowering of
the Virgin, Marriage of Mary and Joseph, Marriage
Procession.
The Story of Jesus: (The general
pattern on each level begins on the right front and goes completely around
until it concludes at the left front.
Unlike the top course of frescoes, this level begins with one panel on
the front wall, however.) The scenes, in
order are: Visitation, Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, Presentation at the Temple,
Escape into Egypt (an
especially beautiful work in terms of its composition and use of landscape to
reinforce it), Slaughter of the
Innocents (pretty gory), Jesus
among the Doctors, Baptism
of Jesus (wonderful), Wedding
of Cana, Raising of
Lazarus, Entry into
Jerusalem (the donkey steals the show), Driving the Merchants out of the Temple (note the power
of Jesus’ angry gesture: the diagonal
thrust of his fist is reflected in the reaction in the merchant’s body and
clothing, and it is echoed in the triply repeated downward angle of the
triangular pediment form in the architecture above).
The Story of the Passion: (The first of
these panels is the last one on the middle level, on the front wall on the left
side. The sequence then continues around
on the lower level, beginning at the right front.) Treason
of Judas, Last Supper (note
the tenderness in Jesus and the grouping directly around him), Washing of the Feet (look at
the face of the figure at the far left—Peter, I guess), Kiss of Judas (look carefully at the kiss itself, and
the faces of Jesus and Judas—and those of the immediate onlookers; note also the wonderful, almost abstract
patterns created by the staffs and torches held aloft—almost a distant
precursor of the Battle of San Romano by Uccello in the Uffizi), Christ before Caifa, Flagellation of Christ (notice
how classically Roman Pilate looks at the far right), Ascent of Calvary (note the expression of
maternal anguish in the face of Mary, at the left, and Jesus’ expression as he
looks back over his shoulder towards her), Crucifixion, Mourning
over the Dead Christ, Resurrection,
Ascension, Pentecost.
The Universal Judgment: This massive
fresco that covers the rear wall of the chapel is awesome—and a lot of
fun. In it, Jesus sits, enthroned,
presiding over the judgment of humanity.
Flanked by the twelve apostles, with the saints and angels in
attendance, there is a division into the blessed (on the left side—and
therefore to his right) and the damned (on the right). Notice that things are much more ordered and
structured in heaven above and among the righteous on the left; a swirling
chaotic disorder characterizes the situation among the damned, with Satan in
the center (with one of the damned in his mouth, and one in another
orifice). (The arrangement is not
unrelated to that of Dante’s Inferno.)
Things are actually much more interesting over there, however: the fantasies of the torments of Hell range
from the horrifying (Nancy entertained the idea that maybe in view of what we
were looking at we should be careful…maybe even go to confession!) to the
wildly kinky (à la Hieronymus Bosch).
Gattamelata: (1447-1453) Donatello’
equestrian statue of Erasmo da Narni,
a local military leader nicknamed Gattamelata,
or “the Cunning Cat,” stands in the
piazza in front of Il Santo. This was the first equestrian statue of a
current hero in classical dress ever done since antiquity. It is a powerful, noble piece which certainly
succeeded in its attempt to honor the man it portrays
Basilica di Sant’Antonio -
Il Santo: This 13th century church is a
beautiful combination of Romanesque and Gothic styles, with a markedly Eastern
flavor. Its eight huge domes lend a
marvelous and unearthly quality to the interior.
High Altar of Il Santo: (The Basilica
of Sant’
Antonio) - 1446- 50 - This is perhaps the most complex of Donatello’s projects. It contains seven bronze statues of almost
life size, four bronze reliefs, and one limestone relief. (The origin altar itself was removed and destroyed in
the 16th century. It is a
source of considerable speculation what the actual form of the altar was and
what the arrangement of these sculptures on it was. While the experts do not agree on what the
original altar looked like, they are in agreement that it had little to do with
the current configuration.) Unfortunately, it is hard to get a close-up
view of these works, installed as they are on the high altar itself. This is especially true of the reliefs. If you go when no mass is being said and
there are not too many people around, you can usually persuade a guard into
turning on the extra lighting and allowing you access into the altar area—which
allows excellent viewing of the reliefs on the back of the altar, and
reasonable viewing of the sculptures (from the sides in front; but they will
not, of course, allow you to approach the front of the altar itself (which
means the reliefs on the front are almost impossible to view closely). (The comments in square brackets [] refer to the
sculpture’s position on the current altar.)
Bronze
Statues:
St. Francis: [near left] Has crucifix on his shoulder and holds
a book.
St. Anthony:
[near right] Holds
a book and a plant.
St. Louis of Toulouse: [lower level,
far left]
St. Prosdocimus: [lower level, far right] Patron saint of Padova, holds a ewer.
St. Daniel: [far right] holds a basin
St. Guistina: [far left] holds a palm frond
in her left hand.
The Virgin and Child Enthroned: [center]
Bronze
Reliefs: These four miracles of Saint Anthony are
miracles in an artistic sense, as well.
In them, Donatello uses symbolically the space he creates to emphasize
and enhance the stories he is portraying and the emotions those stories embody.
The Speaking Babe: [back, right] Note the stage-like setting he creates
for the action.
The Ass of Rimini: [back, left] Note the tripartite division of the
space using three classical arches, with the central section containing
the main action: the ass who genuflects at the altar, attracted to the host in
the priest’s hand while ignoring the oats it is offered.
The Irascible Son: [front, left] This is perhaps the most interesting
of the reliefs. Donatello, who, as we
have seen, was a master of linear perspective, here utilizes an obviously
purposeful combination of perfectly accurate and totally contrary perspectival
devices to create a shockingly disjointed space. It has been suggested (particularly by
The Heart of the Miser: [front, right] Once dead, his heart is nowhere to be
found. Here note the architectural depth
of the space Donatello has created.
Limestone
relief: The Entombment of Christ:
[back, center] Here Donatello has presented us with the power of
the grief of those lowering Jesus into his tomb.
VENEZIA
Aside from the Peggy Guggenheim Museum (q.v.,
below), there is no art in
But soaking up the feel of the
place is the thing to do in
Some suggestions:
Take a vaporetto
ride the length of the Canal Grande (Vaporetto #1 is
a good choice). Do it again another
time, getting off here and there. Walk
over the three bridges that cross the Canal Grande.
Do what the Access
guide notes as one of Marcella Hazan’s
favorite things: go to Ciprianni’s
(there’s a
free, private launch to get there [which is also fun], that leaves from Piazza
S. Marco: just use the free phone to
call if the launch isn’t already there),
and have a chocolate gelato in the bar next to the pool. It’s heavenly! Use the opportunity to look around the hotel
and grounds, which are pretty spectacular.
Take a vaporetto
to Murano
(which is a nice place to walk around).
On the way back, get off at Fondamenta Nuove and take a walk through Il Cannaregio to Il Campo del Ghetto Nuovo—the Jewish Ghetto (read Access on
this one). (There’s a restaurant near
here that is supposed to be wonderful, although we didn’t get to go: Osteria al Bacco (Fondamenta delle Cappuccine, 3054; tel.
717493).
Walk around Il Castello,
and maybe take a look at Il Arsenale. Il Castello is a lovely residential neighborhood. Don’t miss Via Garibaldi—it’s a real neighborhood, and has a communal life
apart from the normal tourist hubbub of
For a rather delicious, very inexpensive, very informal meal, go to Trattoria Alla Madonna, Calle della
Madonna 594 (between Fondamenta del Vin and Ruga Vecchia San Giovanni), in San
Paolo, near the Rialto Bridge. The
food is surprisingly good--and VERY cheap. I just kept ordering
things—spaghetti in black sauce [squid ink]; risotto in the same; fried fresh
sardines; etc., etc.—and the seafood is fresh and wonderful. The house wine is drinkable...and the 15 euro
cabernet is actually delicious. It’s a funky place, where you end up
talking to the people sitting right next to you—and they are sitting right next to
you. It’s a bit hard to find, but,
coming off the Rialto Bridge, you’ll
manage if you remember the following:
1) it is the third
"street" west (to the left off the bridge) of Ruga
dei Orefici (which is
the street directly off the bridge);
2) these "streets"
sometimes just look like doorways from the Fondamenta
(if you get to Calle Paradiso,
you've gone two of them too far); and,
3) there is no sign for it, nor does the numbering
seem correct; but when you get to a place on the right where there is light and
a lot of life and activity you can see inside, you’ve arrived at Trattoria alla
Madonna (the "street" itself seems like a dark, narrow, back alley in
which you won't expect to find anything—and won’t find anything else).
Eat dinner outside on the
terrace restaurant of the Hotel Gritti Palace—or at least have a Bellini on their bar
terrace. The food at the restaurant is
quite good, and not all that ridiculously expensive. And the setting is divine: we ate looking out across the Grand Canal, with an illuminated La Salute across the Canal, and a gorgeous
full moon overhead. We stayed at the Gritti Palace on or 2006 trip (for the Architecture Biennale, q.v., my write-up) , and it is an incredible treat: wonderful rooms, perfect service, and just
generally a totally elegant experience. (It’s on Campo San Giglio,
although its main entrance is by water taxi on the canal side—there is not
fondamenta along the canal at that point.
The street entrance on the side is almost unmarked, which serves to
effectively keep the throngs of tourists from meandering through.) On our 2013 trip (to the Art Biennale,
q.v., my write-up), we stayed
at the Bauer Il Palazzo, another
totally elegant place, rather similarly situated (except that the end of it
facing away from the canal is the newer, far more modern Bauer L’Hotel).
Eat dinner at Al Covo, it’s wonderful! Virtually all seafood (usually one
non-seafood alternative for each course), and no menu—they serve a selection of
the best things that were caught that day; and, boy, do they pick and prepare
it well! The place is owned and run by a
couple: the husband, who is Italian (naturalmente!), is the chef, and the wife runs the dining
room—and she came from
Perhaps the best place in Venice to eat is Ristorante Da Fiore. This
Michelin-starred temple of Venetian cuisine is run by Maurizio and Mara Martin,
the latter being the chef. San Polo 2002 +39 (041) 721308
Instead of spending a lot of
money on a gondola, ride one of the traghetti (oversize gondolas, rowed by two standing gondolieri) that
go back and forth across the Canal Grande at 8 spots (stations are at the end
of streets named Calle del Traghetto indicated by a yellow sign with the black
gondola symbol). Instead of €80 for a
40-minute ride in a gondola (€100, after 7 PM), these traghetti cost about €.50 per
person. One pays the gondolier when
boarding. (Most Venetians cross standing up, by the way.) One interesting place to take a traghetto is the
Santa Sofia crossing that connects
the Ca' d'Oro and
the Pescheria di Rialto fish market, opposite each
other on the Grand Canal just north of the Rialto
Bridge (a particularly busy spot on the Grand Canal, where the you can be impressed by the gondolieri’s
skill dodging the heavy traffic on the canal). There’s also a convenient traghetto that leaves
from the west end of Piazza San Marco
(towards the Hotel Monaco) and goes across to La Salute. While you may not
have any pressing need to go to La
Salute, it is in Il Dorsoduro, which is another very interesting
place to walk around. It is also the site of—
Collezione Peggy Guggenheim: This place is
unbelievable! It has some of the
most beautiful, unusual examples of the work of many very important modern
artists that you will see anywhere. The truth
is, I do not like most of the art to be found in Venice: you will know from my
Florence section, my real love is the very beginning of the Renaissance, the
first decades of the quattrocento (the 15th century), and most of whatr is found in Venice is considerably later than
that. Once things become mannered—or,
heaven forefend, Baroque—I run screaming; so
There’s a wonderful Rothko, Sacrifice, (Watercolor, gouache, and india
ink on paper, 100.2 x 65.8 cm)
from 1946, just before he started doing his characteristic
thing: you can imagine him looking at
this painting and saying to himself, “I wonder what would happen if I did a
whole painting based on what I’ve done in this area of this one…” There is also a great 1968 painting from his
mature style, Untitled (Red), (Acrylic on paper, mounted on canvas, 83.8 x 65.4
cm):
According to their website (and I
have inserted images of some of the works the site describes),
The
core mission of the museum is to present the personal collection of Peggy Guggenheim
herself. The collection holds major works of Cubism, Futurism, Metaphysical
painting, European abstraction, avant-garde sculpture, Surrealism, and American
Abstract Expressionism, by some of the greatest artists of the 20th century.
These include Picasso (The Poet,
On the Beach), Braque (The
Clarinet),
Duchamp (Sad Young Man on a Train),
Léger,
Brancusi (Maiastra,
Bird in Space), Severini
(Sea=Dancer), Picabia
(Very Rare Picture on Earth), de
Chirico (The Red Tower, The Nostalgia of the Poet), Mondrian (Composition No. 1 with Grey
and Red 1938
and
Composition with Red 1939), Kandinsky
(Landscape with Red Spots, No. 2
and White Cross), Miró (Seated Woman II), Giacometti (Woman with Her Throat Cut
and Woman
Walking), Klee (Magic Garden),
Ernst (The Kiss, Attirement of the Bride), Magritte (Empire of Light), Dalí (Birth of
Liquid Desires), Pollock (The
Moon Woman, Alchemy), Gorky
(Untitled), Calder (Arc of Petals)
and Marini (Angel of the City).
There is another great more
unusual painting by Braque, The
Bowl of Grapes (Le Compotier de raisins),
1926 (Oil with pebbles and sand on canvas, 100 x 80.8 cm):
A terrific example of an
early Jackson Pollock, The
Moon Woman, 1942 (Oil on canvas, 175.2 x 109.3 cm)
and one of the earliest examples of Pollock’s “poured paintings, his 1947 Alchemy, (Oil, aluminum
(and enamel?) paint, and string on canvas, 114.6 x
221.3 cm)
There are great paintings by DeKooning,
including his 1958 Untitled (Oil on paper, 58.5 x 74 cm)
There are marvelous paintings
by Mondrian—some very early, like Ocean
5, 1915 (Charcoal and gouache on paper [glued on homasote
panel in 1941 by Mondrian], paper 87.6 x 120.3 cm; panel 90.2 x 123 x 1.3 cm)
and fully developed ones like the 1938 Composition
No. 1 with Grey and Red, shown above in the section from the Peggy’s
website. The collection has great sculpture: lots of Giacometti,
including Woman Walking (Femme qui marche),
1932 (Bronze, 144.6 cm high), a very unusual and sensually beautiful
torso in the garden.:
many by Henry Moore,
like his Family Group, ca. 1944 (cast 1956; Bronze, 14.2 x 13.8 x 7.5
cm)
And several
terrific pieces by Calder. There are good
Picassos, ones magnificent by Duchamp, and some great works by Schwitters,
including his 1920 collage, Merz
Drawing 75 (Merzzeichnung 75), (Paper and
fabric collage, tempera, ink and graphite on paper, 14.6 x 10 cm)
and his 1930 assemblage, Maraak,
Variation I (Merzbild), (Oil and assemblage
of objects on board, 46 x 37 cm)
There are lots of works by Max Ernst (who was one of her
husbands—apparently she also slept with a bunch of the other artists whom she
didn’t bother to marry). The Peggy has aamazing
treasures! The first time we visited, it
was an incredible—and for me, unexpected—treat (although Nancy had known all
along what to expect, and was the one who insisted we go in the first place!).
The Peggy no
has the additional splendors of the Hannelore B.and Rudolph B. Schulhof Collection, which I have described in my write-up of the 2013
Venice Biennale. (One can access the descriptions and images I put online
about the Schulhof
Collection directly by clicking here.)
Another adventure: ake a vaporetto to Giudecca, which
is another nice place to walk around.
(Right there on the Canal Grande is another supposedly great place to
have a light dinner or dessert: Harry’s Dolci
[Fondamenta Sant’Eufemia,
773; tel. 5208337]; but we couldn’t get in when we had time available to
go.) Near Harry’s Dolci, which is related to
Harry’s Bar, by the way, is a nice
little grocery store where you can get panini made to
order and eat them sitting on benches (as opposed to eating at the tables in
front of the store, which costs more) looking at the Grand Canal.
A last idea: the lobby of the Danieli is a fabulous
place—especially the three story tall entrance atrium. Go in and check it out. They serve drinks (they serve a very nice 20
year old tawny port) and cappuccino.
[The following are some
thoughts on some areas of Roma. They
have not yet been expanded to include my observations and other info; but they
might prove helpful as a starting place.}
One interesting area (1st three buildings are all across the
street from one another):
Temple of Vesta, Piazza Bocca della Verità (2nd Century BC—oldest
standing marble temple in Rome) cylindrical center, surrounded by 20 Corinthian
columns. Actually
misnamed: it is really dedicated to Hercules the Conqueror.
Temple of Virile Fortune, Piazza Bocca della Verità (2nd
Century BC) Pre-Imperial
Roman temple, heavily influenced by Greek architecture
There's another interesting Romanesque
church nearby (but certainly not essential), San Giorgio in Velabro on the via del Velabro, at via San Teodoro. This church has a gorgeous quattrocento altar
done by the Cosmati.
Remember with all the
churches, many are closed from ~12:30-3:30.
There is a great place to eat
lunch right in this neighborhood: San Teodoro, on the via dei Fienili, it is lovely inside
and in its outside eating area, with great food. Moderately priced and informal, at least for
lunch
A second interesting
area:
Santo Stefano Rotondo (via di Sto. Stefano Rotondo), 5th
Century, centrally planned church consisting of three concentric circles,
separated by a double ring of granite columns. There is a 3rd
Century Roman temple to the Persian god Mithras which is currently being
excavated beneath the floor of the church.
(Try to ignore the gruesome 16th C. frescoes that cover the
outer walls.)
Santi Quattro Coronati (“Four Crowned Saints,” via dei S. S. Quattro, between
via Sto. Stefano Rotundo
and via dei Querceti) This
last remaining fortified abbey in Rome consists of a 4th Century
church, with a incredibly beautiful quattrocento chiostro, and a trecento oratorio
di San Silvestro (off to the right as you enter the
church itself; go up to the turntable in the wall where you will place a Euro
in, and an unseen nun will rotate it to get the money, and then re-rotate it to
give you a key to the oratory—they are taking no chances with having too
much contact with the secular world!) that has frescoes of the life of
Constantine
frescoes).
A third grouping:
The Pantheon (Piazza della Rotunda), Built by Hadrian in 125 AD
(and dedicated to
Marco Agrippa, the son-in-law of Augustus), this may be the most
spectacular building in
Palazzo Doria Pamphili (via del Corso, 304, between Piazza Venezia and via
Lata) is VERY interesting
(although
hardly 'essential')—a window into how extremely rich Roman nobility have
lived over the years. One of that family became Pope Innocent X. Best if you get there not long after they
open at 10 AM, so as to get a ticket for a tour of the private quarters as well
as the public rooms.
The only Baroque church I'd
suggest (not too over the top, and actually quite beautiful) is Sant'Ivo alla Sapienza, by Boromini, on Corso di Rinascemente (at via dei Straderar). Built in 1660, it is a marvelous,
centrally-planned building of pure white stone.
The only ‘color’ is the steel-gray of the floor tiles which alternate
with white ones.
An outstanding taste of
ancient
Foro di Traiano (Trajan’s Forum), largest and most ambitious of the
Imperial For a to have been built (2nd
century AD), there are now only traces remaining.
Foro Romano (The
Roman Forum)—a truly extraordinary place. Get a guide an
revel in the remains of ancient
Il Colosseo
Arch of
Our favorite area was Trastevere, where we spent half a day simply
wandering and exploring. It is full of
tiny, winding streets, lined with shop of various artisans. We loved Santa Maria in Trastevere, and especially its wonderful mosaics. (We also loved the cafe right next to the
church, where we had some of
the best sprumante (fresh
juice) I've ever tasted.)
We also took a lovely walks
through the Villa Borghese, and virtually in
every direction from the Piazza del Popolo
to the Spanish Steps to the
Piazza Navona il Campidoglio.
Some restaurant suggestions:
We had a delicious and fun
meal at Pierluigi, Piazza dei
Ricci, 144 at via Monserato (not far from the bridge,
Ponte Mazzini, on the main side of the river).
Moderately priced and informal, they serve wonderful seafood,
inexpensive wine, and a delicious beef stracciata. Tel. 6861302
We had a wonderful and
romantic meal at Romolo, via Porta Settemiana, 8, at the foot
of via Garibaldi. The garden is
particularly beautiful, if the weather permits.
Although the food is not gourmet, it is quite enjoyable. Tel. 5818284
We also enjoyed our espresso
at Rosati, one of Rome’s grand caffes (Piazza del Popolo,
5/A) and extraordinary gelati at Giolitti (via Uffici del Vicario, 40); and, no matter how many people
know about and how touristy a thing it is to do, the tartufo
at Tre Scalini in the Piazza Navona is an absolute must.
There is a small Neapolitan
restaurant near S. M. della
Pace, Tratoria and Pizzeria della Pace, which is very cheap and good. (Try especially their Bufalo
mozzarella and tomatoes, and their fried Neapolitan pizza.
La Cesarina. Via Piemonte, 109 (Via
Anacleto Bleve. (through a virtually unmarked [except for a small brass
plaque] big dark wood door) on via Teatro Valle. This lovely, stylish wine bar is a prefect place for lunch—or dinner, if you don’t mind the
fact that they only serve cold food.
Order a plate of involuti (rolled hors
d’oeuvres), or perhaps a plate of salamis; but don’t fail to order their
wonderful cheese plate. Ask them to
suggest a marvelous, inexpensive wine.
This small, family-run establishment it well worth a stop.
And, while on the subjects of
wine bars, two that come extremely highly recommended (although not tried by us
due to the fact that they are somewhat out of the way in San Lorenze) ones are Tram Tram
(near the tram, naturally—Via dei Reti,
44/46) and Uno e Bino
(Via degli Equi, 58) .
MILANO
Milano is mostly a modern,
industrial city, and, as such, is a completely different story from all the
others. There’s no art there I am
particularly interested in—if you exclude hearing great opera at La Scala; and yet, it’s an interesting place. Here’s a walk that you can do in 2-3 hours
(or much more, depending on how much time you want to spend in the stores) that
provides a good taste of a major piece of what’s there:
Start
at Il Duomo (take the Metro there from just about anywhere) and walk through
the Piazza to the left (facing the front of the church) to the Galleria
Vittorio Emanuelle II—a wonderful, covered space with
stores and cafes (the first mall?).
Continue straight, through the Galleria, diagonally across the Piazza La
Scala (with the deceptive uninteresting exterior of
that august place to your left) to the Via A. Manzoni, slightly off to your
right. Follow that to the Via Montenapoleone, onto which you take a right. (NB:
all of these segments are quite short.)
This
brings you to Il Qudrilatero, formed by Via Sant’Andrea, Via della Spiga, Via Borgospesso, and the
street you’re on, Via Montenapoleone—which is the
area in which are found most of the world’s biggest names in clothing and
accessory design who have made Milano the fashion
capital of the world. You can spend as
much time here as your interest and your resistance (and/or fabulous wealth)
allow. (At none of these stores will you
see a single price tag…does this suggest anything?) For the brief version, I’d suggest
continuing down Via Montenapoleone to Via Sant’Andrea, on which you go left one block to Via della Spiga, on which you go
right one block to Corso Venezia.
A
left on Corso Venezia takes
you into Porta Venezia, and the most exclusive residential district of
Milano. Take a quick right
onto Via San Damiano, and then the next left onto
Via Mozart. Look around. Here begins a neighborhood that is breath-takingly beautiful and wealthy (although apparently the best
stuff is in enclosed courtyards within the center of many of these
buildings). Go one block on Via Mozart, past Via Serbelloni, to the next left (I don’t know the name of this
little street, but it’s only one block long) and take it until it dead ends on
Via Cappuccini.
Directly ahead of you, across the street and a little to the left, is a
black metal fence with a garden behind it—look in: there are flamingos, peacocks, and other rare
birds. It’s the private garden of a
private palazzo of a very wealthy industrialist and his wife (who, in
their 80s, live there alone—except for throngs of servants)…and it is a
trip! Take a left on the Via Cappuccini to the Via Serbelloni;
take a short right, and then right again onto Corso Venezia. Follow this
to the Civico Museo di Storia Naturale (the Natural
History Museum).
Take
a left at the Museum and enter the Giardini Pubblici (the first of its kind in
I was told the Casanova
Grill (in the Palace Hotel, directly across the Piazza from Il Principe
di Savoia) is the best restaurant in Milano. It is beautiful, formal, very elegant, and we
loved it. We had (after a glass
of champagne and an amuse gueule of some sort of prosciutto and herb
thing): a shared antipasto of foie gras
with rose pepper corns and herbs; for i primi,
spaghetti with vongole and asparagi
for me, and a pasta with a sauce of tomato and crushed yellow peppers for
Nancy; for i secondi, costelletto di agnello (simply prepared, but unbelievably good) for me,
and a filetto di manza
(fillet mignon) for Nancy; with all of the above we drank a Sassacaia
’93—which was both wonderful and relatively reasonable; then a shared course of
assorted rare Piemontese cheeses (too unusual for any
name recognition, but exquisite) with a glass of port; and finished off with a
tiramisu and espresso and cappuccino.
Expensive, but heavenly! Reservations necessary; tel. 29000803.
A less rarified, but quite
delicious and sophisticated alternative is Da Giacomo. The specialties here are fish and shell fish
(although there are other wonderful alternatives): the linguini alla Giacomo is a veritable
biology lesson in crustaceans, and incredibly delicious. There is a very interesting and well-priced
wine list. All the food was exceptional, and the dessert cart was not to be
believed! Stylish dress (jacket and tie), and reservations
essential. Tel.
76023313. Via Sottocorno, 6,
at via Cellini.