Friday, 25 September 2009

I waited for the church bells, but never heard them, and slept past my 8:30 Uffizi reservation.  But, hey, this is Italy!  What is time here?  A quick shower will suffice, and maybe it's time to start growing a beard.  Breakfast with all the other tourists in the breakfast room and out the door.

Naturally I can't just go to the door with my on-line ticket, but have to go over to Door 3 to get a real ticket, which I do.  Then it is up, up, to the top floor where there are wonders.  I commented on FB that if Bach is good for the soul, then Giotto is equally so.  The same goes for Lippi, Vasari, and all the others.  There is an Annunciation, a Visitation, a Visit of the Magi, a Crucifixion, and at the end I can only utter credo.  The trouble with a museum such as this is the mind quickly numbs itself to all that surrounds you.  Oh, there's a..., and there's a..., (do I have to look at all of these?).  But you want to...look at all of these.

Another thing, I think that they ought to devote just certain days to groups.  Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays - Groups, all other days - just us.  One nice thing, the leaders now have microphones which allow them to broadcast sotto voce into the groups' earpieces, thus keeping the sound level down.  They do, however monopolize certain paintings.  One group went to Venus on the half shell and then skipped all the other Botticelli.  What a loss.

And another thing, I was watching several Japanese tourists trying to decipher a painting of the Magi (in which the entire story is told - foreground the Adoration of the Baby Jesus, background - sighting the star, journey to Israel, visit with Herod, and then journey to Bethlehem.  In addition, the whole painting was filled with arcane references and symbols.  (I am reminded of David Sederis' horribly funny telling of a French class in Paris, when the students were asked to describe Easter).

As I walked around later, I wondered what it was like to live in such a religiously saturated society.  Buildings, heraldry, manners, language, song, all were deeply immersed within the Christian story.  Several years ago I was at the Chiesa de la Annunciata in Florence, and realized all the different paintings of Mary:  Mary disconsolate, Mary pensive, Mary in glory, Mary pierced, Mary crowned.  Suddenly it dawned on me as I stood in front of one painting with Mary pierced with God-knows how many swords, that each of these were touchstones, points of identity for the common person who viewed them.  They were a way of not only perceiving the story, but of taking it in, accessing it in a deeply personal way.  That, I think, has been lost in our society, where protestant austerity has robbed many of such touchstones.

As I walked on the Loggia that connects the two wings of the museum, I took some time to sit down and reflect.  My Istanbulschmertz was gone.  I was overjoyed to be here, and I realized that there was some freedom from not carrying around a camera.  So thank you unknown thief who has my battery charger and other equipment.  I am always amazed, really, at how easy it is to travel.  All of a sudden you're here, and you're happy!

Lunch was on the terrace overlooking the Piazza della Signoria, Toast and Coke Light (why can't we get Coke Light in the US)?  There are a thousand tongues being spoken around me, and most of them are here for the art.  (There was one Finnish group, whose guide was desperately attempting to get the young people to look at an El Creco, while most of them were playing Solitare on their iPhones.)

I hadn't anticipated seeing a lot of Dürer and Cranach.  This was especially heartening in that last summer, while in Munich, the collection at the Alte Pinakothek was closed.  So there was Luther and Katie, and Luther and Phillip, and Adam and Eve, along with others.  Nor did I anticipate all of the Baroque holdings.  However, at this point the exit was beckoning and I was infected with what my sisters call MEGO (My Eyes Glaze Over) so I stepped out of the Renaissance and back into modern life.