Spending the day with an astonishing old friend

The Galleria della Uffizi is one of the world's more amazing art museums.  I've visited it enough times that each trip feels like spending an afternoon with an old friend, a friend so much more knowledgeable and wiser than I am that I can only listen with rapt attention to all it has to say.

Today, I again walked through all of the galleries, and I again found myself repeatedly overwhelmed with emotion and thoughtfulness at the art I saw.  With paintings from the 13th to the 18th centuries and statuary primarily from older times, the Uffizi overwhelms you with beauty wherever you look.

One of the greatest gifts of this gallery is that it lets you see moments in the history of art when someone so obviously better than their contemporaries suddenly bursts onto the scene and throws down the gauntlet, challenging everyone to pick up their games.

One of my favorite examples of just this sort of leap forward in art is the work of Botticelli, whose work regularly makes my heart ache.  Yes, I'm enough of a traditionalist that every single time I round the corner and see his Birth of Venus, it takes away my breath.

Click an image to see a larger version.

It's not like he has only one incredible piece, either; his body of work is astounding.  Consider, for example, one you may not know:  The Columny of Apelles:

It's more amazing in person.

And then there's the Michelangelo, which fairly leaps off the canvas.

I could go on and on, but the bottom line is that if you want to study Western European art or simply love the subject, you need to visit the Uffizi.

This old friend once again filled my heart to overflowing and sent me away happy and humbled.

Brain-bombed by art: the UffiziPlus, random

An Italian construction worker in the early afternoon, as his co-workers debated where he should dig next.

As always, click on an image to see a larger version.

A wise man who knows how to manage his time.

The collection at the Uffizi is staggering, big enough that even though the non-Roman-statue collection on display now covers only about two hundred years, my brain felt like a bombed-out wreck after walking through it.  Before I realized that the Uffizi does not allow photography, I took a few pictures of some statues, notably this one of Leopold de' Medici.

He should have stuck to portraits, where they could paint him largely head-on.

Working through the Uffizi chambers, it became clear that sometimes an artist would emerge and be dramatically and obviously better than his contemporaries.  Botticelli was the most striking example.  What beautiful work.

I wish I could show you more, but I wasn't willing to break the no-photography rule once I was aware of it, so I'll have to recommend the Uffizi to you in books and, if you have the chance, in person.  Like so much of Florence, it's a must-see.

The sky over Santa Croce today looked very different indeed.

On the personal front, I'm still stress-dreaming heavily every night and having trouble sleeping, but I believe I'm making progress.  I certainly hope so.  Time will tell.  I look forward to finding out how I feel without all this accumulated stress.

Olive tree, Baptistry, Dante, Santa Croce sky

Near the Uffizi, down a road I've not taken before, stands this little memorial. 

As always, click on an image to see a larger version.

In 1993, a group, probably the Cosa Nostra, set off a car bomb here.  The explosion killed six people and injured 26 more, according to this New York Times piece. In 2004, a local association planted this tree as a memorial to the dead and injured and also as a repudiation of the goals of the attackers. (More here.)  It's a small but oddly touching presence, one that few people even walk by.  I'm glad today brought me to it. 

A bit of a stroll later, I toured the Baptistry, the smaller building in front of the Duomo.  Have I mentioned that the Italians like a good ceiling?

Another detail from the ceiling.

The Baptistry was once a Roman church and so is much plainer than the sibling that towers over it, but it is still a very cool place and worth the five euro ticket cost.  

I said "plainer," not "plain," though the altar itself is actually fairly simple. 

I love that in Florence a random turn around a very normal looking corner can land you here, near where Dante worked, on a street that now bears his name.

On the way back to the hotel, in the very late afternoon, as the day was preparing for its exit but the sky was still bright, the view of Santa Croce looked exactly like this.

Hard to complain about that.  Hard, in fact, not to love it.  I sure did.