so much of a trip is in the beginnings, in that secret anticipation leading up to the actual being in another land. suddenly, daily life is so much sweeter knowing that escape is coming. so even before we neared the beautiful village of san gimignano, i knew that i would love it from my daydreaming. absorbing tuscany through books and pictures before arrival, packing this or that in the always open suitcase in my bedroom, it was all part of the adventure.
the morning we left for the village, we all had our hearts set on seeing sunflowers facing our direction as we had passed countless crops with the blooms unopened or turned away throughout the trip so far. (those were just shy sunflowers.) we stopped on our way with the perfect luck and through the june haze we saw a splendid view of the ancient skyline over hundreds of blooming yellow friends. we entered through the medieval arches of san gimignano as if we were lined up at disneyland. tourists were everywhere, filling the narrow streets like a thick panini sandwich. most of the painters clumped in a heap on a nearby stairway upon arrival, but the little shops were calling us find a wooden pinocchio. or a scarf. or something! so the ever faithful shopping duo of mom and i (through wind, storm or heat!) began exploring the village together. we made note that our painting focus for the day was concentrating on the silhouettes of the billowing colorful flags. and since they were brightly hanging everywhere, we knew we may have an oppurtunity to paint them at some point in our stay.
i soon found myself lost inside a jewelry shop finding a tiny alabaster apple in the back, a little dusty and hiding in the shelves. the little lid opened…maybe to fill with secret love notes on my dresser at home? of course. i stepped out into the blazing sun to see none of our friends or my steadfast shopping buddy to be found. maybe they went ahead…
and one turn later i was at piazza alla cisterna. gorgeous streams of banners hung above and as i wandered around more i suddenly realized that i was (happily) out of the mess of people with delicious silence around me. i had no map with me, but soon realized i wouldn’t need one here. the only sound was of my leather flats clacking on the cobblestone and slowing towards two massive wooden doors, where they stopped to one already opened…inviting me in. going inside the loggia, i halfway expected that angels would start a chorus of song, because all over the walls were the most beautiful 13th century frescos. birds flew overhead and trimmed and potted boxwood were the only other company inside. can i live here? (or save that thought for a daydream?)
this was too good not to share, so i wandered back until i found friends to gush with. we came up to buy tickets for the collegiate church and were met instead with a harpist filling elegant melodies that resonated against the stone walls of the piazza. our own private serenade. coming into the church, i had no idea what i was about to see would impress me as much as it did. the entire time i was trying to memorize the paintings all in my mind, frustrated that i couldn’t take photos or that i didn’t have longer to sit and redraw all of it. and then, as fate would have it, there was a long wooden table with illustrated books and detailed descriptions about each and every part of the church. mom treated us all. i still haven’t stopped looking at it.
as soon as i walked in i noticed the ceilings matched my favorite duomo in siena…with its impossibly blue color and golden stars all lit up like the heavens. the frescos were all roped off, and as my eyes adjusted i realized that i would have to take all of it in sitting down on one of the wooden church pews. it was beyond remarkable, every single panel by bartolo di fredi was illustrating a different story from the old testament. i was so consumed with the eleborate details, we were all quiet just looking. and on the opposite wall was the new testament. at one point while walking back and forth to admire them, i noticed the surface of the saturated robes of the figures glimmered in the light. everything was just so perfect. my absolute favorite part..oh how could i choose a favorite..is it just a human thing to adore a specific moment when you’re overwhelmed with so much good art? so you can handle it? and concentrate? royal blue ceiling heavens and striped marble aside, the creation of eve just held me captivated with its clever compostion. so many versions of the beginning of man had been done in the history of art, but this literal interpretation just made me smile. scotti and i walked around tryig to recognize the various scenes. there was just so much to take in. after we felt like we had seen every detail of those precious walls, we walked by the santa fina chapel and i knew i was crossing into that part of the day where i wouldn’t possibly retain it all. i was so glad for that special book that i could reread and glance at when i want to remember it all again.
the day was nearing an end, but there was one thing i knew i wanted to do when being in san gimignano, and that was to climb one of the remaining fourteen towers that had stood the test of time. two hundred and eighteen steps up to the top, with only about half an hour to spare i decided to run it. all the way to the top. in my sundress on those see through steps. just don’t look down. i wanted to be sure i had time to gaze when i reached sky level. and only a few minutes later i made it. the perfect view, enchanting, so perfect. i finally saw what the sparrows were darting over. private gardens, parks, the surrounding countryside, i wanted to just stay up there till sunset. the colors fading into the distance, the landscape…I LOVE TODAY, in my mind, like a broken record repeating over and over again.
coming down the tower had to be a little slower, but i made it back to mom who was waiting, surprised at how quickly i had returned. we started to walk back to meet up with everyone else (i loved walking everywhere) stopping for a gelato on the way and bursting with laughter because we thought we could eat it before it melted all over us. on the way home, more sunflower fields befriended us and smiled in our direction, we stopped and noticed that some even had some ladybugs resting on them. we retired to our rooms to paint a little more before cena where more laughter and good times were shared. in my heart i felt a big build up and the need to go to bed to rest for the next day would be a visit to siena…
touche amanda…nobody move, nobody gets hurt.
the pretty war begins: this is amanda’s first bullet of this dreamscape.
ok, ok, i’m so excited. since i’ve been sharing my pictures of italy over at flickr, my friend amanda has been teasing me to no end that it was all a dream. i’m starting to believe her! and then she suggests we have a painting contest. i think she already won, don’t you? (wink) i love this amanda!
and since i know you will too, don’t miss her tonight* over at tiny showcase! 7:30 sharp, eastern time! (but i’m first in line, no shoving, cutting, bribing or moving me from getting that first print!)
(sunset over mount amiata)
so now, the dreamy filter over my eyes is beginning to settle back into real life focus. i just don’t want it to end! so if you’ll endure with me for a wee bit longer, i’ll continue grasping onto the coattails of delicious memories before they disappear.
(the famous soup- culinary masterpiece by enrico casini)
and speaking of delicious…the real reason of my budging in between posts here is that i’ve found a delicious flavor dedicated to la dolce vita. our dear rorie, foodie blogger extraordinaire, has written up her recipe for the best soup of all time. i suppose i don’t have an enrico here to create it for me but i sure won’t forget his love for being a chef while the soup is being eaten, piano piano, one savored slurp at a time.
(the maestro and me, after our ritualistic high-five sign of meal success every evening)
*thank you rorie!
after a slightly hilarious misunderstanding about the bus being destroyed, we started off our day just a few minutes late. (explanation? *giggles, okay-another one of the cars needed repairs, but pedro must have heard differently and went politely knocked on doors till lindy opened hers, hearing from him that “the bus! it is destroyed!” she later related to us that she instantly pictured our bus driver antonio going up in flames! she cordially slipped a note under our door shortly after to let us know that we would start out the day a little later…good thing those birds are so loud and woke us up early anyway…the bus was fine, it was all just probably a bad translation mishap, hee hee)
so before arriving to the village, we paused at a beautiful restaurant terrace to paint under the shade of giant yellow umbrellas. roses grew in a giant massive lined pattern below at the entrance, & as soon as we made it up to the balcony we saw had the most incredible view of the hilltop village in the distance. all our incessant chatter grew quiet as cindy and theresa showed us their techniques and we all followed, created weeping montepulcianos, dripping our paint from our sketches. we paused in between paint layers, stepping out from underneath our safe shade to let them dry on the rooftop. they really only needed a few moments to dry completely since the heat was already pretty intense. when we were satisfied with getting some painting done, we went into town. an ice cream sandwhich, guide map and a few postcards later, we walked up to a winery that paolo was anxious to show us. soon we saw why he wanted to show it to us, there inside the ice cool walls rested an etruscan tomb that was over 2,000 years old. i was amazed that someone had ability to sell wine and cheese right next to such a slice of time! it was so dark and the drop in temperature was an incredible relief.
montepulciano, like most of the villages in tuscany, is set on a hill. but the difference from the rest of the towns we visited was that this one didn’t seem as over run with tourists. and steep! we hesitated a little too long for catching the town’s bus, but that didn’t stop paolo from walking out in front of it just in time for mom and i to jump on. after we sat down, we were met with some other americans and held on as the bus slowly climbed up, up UP. we arrived at piazza grande and just stood there, taking in the setting around us. the heat was threatening us, so after a few pictures to remember the moment by and a brief hello to some scottish travelers, we sought refuge inside the catherdral of santa maria assunta. candles were lit and only a few were inside, walking around admiring the quiet ambience and motionless art.
the rest of the afternoon we took a slow pace, running into our fellow painters along the way. gradually we backtracked from piazza grande, walking down down down and looking into all the shops all along the descent. in between shopping and talking together, we saw the most dramatic views of the valley! inside one little boutique, my eye kept going back to a royal blue leather bag…mom convinced me, “you have to get that.” i felt like i had no choice, it was so supple and beautiful, italian made. done. since being home, each time i’ve thrown it over my shoulder i hear mom’s voice telling me, it can be your signature look. i have to admit she’s right, i’ve never seen anything like it, bright and bold and classic. done.
as we were meandering through the narrow decline, we slowly passed by a little girl and a low table filled with a tiny collection of her handmade jewelry. we almost kept walking, but mom understood when i said that i had to go back and buy something from her, it was just too sweet! if she were selling lemonade i may have kept going, but we were the only passerbyers and i just knew that i would regret not going back to see her. i wished that i could talk to her in italian about her techniques and say more than i did. i could see that her legs were all dusty from sitting on the ground, where maybe she had been making some new things while waiting for someone to stop by. it was too precious, i found the perfect ring for only €3.00. another easy decision. and, being the woman full of great wisdom that she is, *grin, mom even took a picture of the highlight of my day, meeting a fellow jewelry designer.
nearing the bottom of our walk back to our meeting spot, we realized that we were practically famished and stopped at a delightful pizzeria. we finally avoided eating our famous last words “next time we’ll share a meal…” and ordered a molto grande! margherita pizza, to split this time. perfection with a cold icey fanta. we were all lethargic without the guilt of being lazy. i reveled in the feeling that had finally settled on me of having no obligations, nowhere to be and nothing to nag at me somewhere in the back of my mind.
finally we meandered back to our meeting place (to snag a few more ice cream sandwiches, of course) but before we did, i had to see if a church we passed by on the way up to the village was open. not only was it open, but it was gorgeous inside. another cool break from the sun and then we were back to casacce. paolo had invited me to come and see his farmhouse in castel del piano, and since he mentioned that they had two baby lambs only a day old there, i had to go! so mom and i put our shopping bags inside our room and we headed back out to the heat with him. he showed us the walls that he and his brother restored, told us how they polished antique armories for the bedrooms and fashioned chandeliers out of fishing baskets. an old tractor saw cleverly became a wall clock. worn farm tools and baskets adorned a wall near the kitchen. we touched the chestnut wood counter tops that he recently made and easily decided that the rustic beauty was perfect, the view incredible! simple pottery and a precious watercolor of the farmhouse painted by his wife hung on the wall. outside we were even more impressed with the outdoor pizza oven and again…the view!
that night at dinner, we celebrated another day of sweet bliss as the ever adorable monroe paxman rang his wine glass with his fork, ding! ding! ding! each and every single night, he wrote an ode (or two!) to someone in the group. even the first night, he had begun the sweet tradition, the gesture became better and better as we got to know each other more. always engaging, rhyming and quick-witted, he used his magnifying glass to study the words that he scrawled on his dinner napkin. each dinner i looked forward to hearing from him, and we all broke out in a roaring applause as soon as his enduring voice was through reciting. there was always something magical to look forward to in tuscany.
i’ve just briefly added some new designs to my etsy shop, i hesitated to put them on necklace strands because i felt that they might have different purposes, even as something to set on a coffee table next to some favorite books, i dunno. the colors of the countryside were my inspiration and the feeling of stepping into an old land where people just carry on life like its supposed to be. i hope they unlock a bit of that old world for you!
my romance with italy began in a dark college classroom, with the sound of the slide projector click clicking and the narration of my art history professor’s voice described the masters. she addressed the whole classroom, but really it felt like an intimate conversation between us with my unrelenting eye contact. i was in love. no silly. not with her, but with the idea of a country so filled with treasures that it didn’t seem possible to all be in one place.
she was the one who lead me from city to city with fellow classmates to the country that you approach with all your senses, where beauty is all. though that trip is another story, i mention it because i clearly remember deciding that the next time i returned, i would make it to the coast. that was almost eight years ago, a teenage me looking out the plane window, thinking of the sea i would want to swim in as we flew out of milan and back to real life.
well pitter patter with the bass drum heart thumps, for today was the next time. we were all so giddy with excitement as we neared the edge of tuscany, just across from the island of elba. our expert watercolor artists sat side by side in the front seat of the bus, smiles wide, knowing that they had arranged the perfect itenerary. “everybody always loves the beach days, ” cindy said. she was right. we met the gorgeous deep blue sea at the small harbour called porto san stefano that was covered with all sorts of colored yachts. we stayed just moments enough to get a 360 view, surrounded by the scenic village houses that covered the hills. we took a few precious pictures and got back on the bus with a preview taste of our real stop for that day.
our bus came to the parking spot at the base of the hills of porto ercole. what’s this? a mercado! (everything just seemed to be in our favor, everything) we walked through leaving no table or display unseen. dresses, blouses, tableclothes, leather purses, fruit and vegetables, colors everywhere. i found the perfect bag, only speaking in italian to buy it until i was asked if i wanted a platic sack to carry it in and i was found out. (giggle) almost passed as a local, almost.
we headed up the hill, ready to see the rest of town, i was eating a delicous peach and enjoying everyones conversation when midbite a voice in my head interuppted the conversation with a matter-of-fact tone, “check for your camera.” iimmediatly stopped and dug through my bag, and what do you know? its gone. handing my half-eaten peach to marianne, i raced back down the hill leaving everyone behind to find it. i went right into the first tent i had been in, where i had set down my things to try on a dress…and the vendors had not only found it, but had set it aside for me! when you think of the hospitality of the italian people, think of this story. these people bring their market goods to different stops everywhere, i didn’t speak fluent italian, and it was nearly time for them to pack up and leave. they could have pretended not to have understood me and gotten away with it. but instead, they were relieved that i came back! i had angels watching out for me that day. so far, the trip was worth it alone just for the photographs, the evidence, of being in paradise. i learn over and over again too: always listen to that voice, because it’s telling you something important!
we found the rest of our friends near the seaside, already gathered together. i turned to look at the view that they were studying, the reflections of the boats in the water were already paintings before we came in. the scents of the mediterranean cooled us with a few gentle winds. across the street, giant purple bougainvillea streamed on the sides of buildings. vespas passed in different colors. i LOVE TODAY i thought again and again.
mom and i weren’t done seeing ercole, so we walked around near the harbor for a while together. we were ready for cold drinks so we settled under a canopy covered cafe, ordered lunch so we could stay and paint there too. but it was another day that i couldn’t concentrate with painting, we had about forty minutes left. it didn’t take much to convince marianne to come with me and we went inside to change into swimsuits.
we climbed out on the jagged volcanic rocks to the clear azure water, carefully balancing the weight of our bodies above the rocky bottom till we kicked out far enough not to touch. i couldn’t stop laughing and was soon out of breath with all the paddling, yet somehow marianne was effortlessly talking to me easily bouyed up and i realized if i just let go i practically floated on the surface of the water. we neared hidden coves and a few minutes further swim we noticed the multi-hued glimmering mediterranean waters were changing right below us. our skin looked like it was beaming under the crystalline light, it was like we had never seen water before. “look at this!” “look!” and we moved our arms back and forth around us, watching the light sparkle and bend on our skin. we were in heaven. the village houses that hugged the hills around us, the yachts napping in their aquatic parking lots. how do people just LIVE here? what did italians do in heaven to be destined to such a place? i tried to memorize it all, to save for a sad winter day when i would need it. we swam past a couple watching us, smoking with fishing rods hanging off the rocks they sat on. marianne wanted to make it out to old statue monument, but we realized that it was further than we estimated. i’ll never forget that excitement of swimming out far enough to see beyond the edge of the rocky shore to be greeted with never ending sea and what looked like an entire fleet of white sailboats.
making it back took a little longer swim since we were moving against the current, but we made it, laughing all the way. why were we laughing? because everything was beautiful! we couldn’t stop! it didn’t feel real. we tried our floating above the shallow water trick so we wouldn’t cut up our feet on the rocks, but my laughing fits left me bottom down on the ground. my fingers have already healed from the cuts, but my suit i wore that day still has traces of the bottom of the sealife on it. i noticed sealife all around me, little crabs and fishes darting to and fro. i put on paolo’s giant sandals he leant me and we climbed back to where the beach was, so happy to walk on the sand and wrap ourselves up in towels again.
we had one more stop on the way back to casacce, we headed out to talamone, an ancient town rising above the coast complete with a beautiful old castle. after getting some coconut and chocolate gelato (and dancing while we waited in line) we all wandered upwards, following paolo who knew the way to the best view. i had mastered the art of consuming gelato fast enough so my hands didn’t get covered in stickiness. we passed by charming doors that no doubt belonged to some lucky vacationers, and through piazza garibaldi. standing on the castle walls and ruins, we looked down from on top of the world and saw the most beautiful array of bright teal umbrellas and swimmers. it was the postcard of the mediterranean, right there in front of us. mom and i both agreed that this resort town was a place to return to as we came back down the streets lined with potted flowers and wild growing queen anne’s lace. we bid the boats in the port a ciao ciao and began the bus ride home.
back at casacce, we get (mom taped it on the sly) an incredibly long italian style explanation to my simple request for enrico’s bread soup recipe. hand gestures flying, it was hands down the funniest and most passionate way of saying he has it all memorized and no cookbook is coming out soon. his tuscan bread soup is just phenomenal! he definitely put his heart into cooking course after course. and after we had viewed everyone’s paintings that night over cena, someone noticed the sun setting and we all came out to see the amber reds blazing over the hills. another perfect day had been lived to the fullest.
sunday in seggiano was a perfect following from the busy day before. we were given a free day at casacce, but some of us decided at breakfast to ride to town and attend mass in the closest village. we had a hilarious ride there with pedro, one of the very outgoing men on staff, who offered us a ride in his little car. we zoomed up and over the hills, and at one point he pulled out his stick shift all the way to show us that it was an old car, WHILE he was driving!! we laughed the entire way there. “isssokay” he assured us while we ran out of breath from giggles.
when we arrived, our pace slowed and we walked casually around the streets near the chapel. it was a beautiful sleepy town, the streets were empty but the voices of mothers bathing their children came out the windows and freshly cleaned laundry was being hung on the lines. doorways were opened and we could peek inside spying elegant old ceilings inside. the charm and beauty was so peaceful. sad abandoned cats pleaded with their eyes for a new home as we passed slowly by them.
mass was about to begin, so we slowly came inside the chapel, bidding some women a “buon giorno” and finding our seats on the wooden pews. we tried our best to follow along in italian, even with the text in front of us, i would lose my place a few times. i watched as some little children, the only ones we saw that day, wiggled away from their spots on the pews. when the service was over, we all shook hands with those next to us and smiled for the hospitality of letting us come visit. a beautiful lady blew out the candles in front of the chapel and we went out to the nearby piazza maggio to sit a while. we sketched and sat quietly overlooking the mountains from a picnic table, the heavenly scent of the sweet chesnut trees in bloom added a fragrance to remember the day by.
pedro appeared to pick us up in his trusty car and we wheeled through the narrow streets with a short stop to see enrico’s osteria and pizzeria in town. we tried bright red campari soda and i couldn’t manage to finish it all, even though the drinks were on pedro. (pedro, in case your’e reading this, we all think you’re *swell* and adore your gesture to buy our aperti grin) soon we were back at casacce, eating the best pizza and bruschetta ever created. simple and perfect. when the last bite was consumed and we didn’t think we could eat another bite, out came the most beautiful juicy pink watermelon. we were getting spoiled!
some of us migrated to the pool in our suits to read, sketch and relax. somehow this slower day was making me drowsy, or maybe it was the lunch we just enjoyed every bite of…but i couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to concentrate on my sketchbook or the novel i bought at the airport. so i rolled over on my tummy and dozed off…we woke to the rushing waves of the pool crashing towards us in giant romanian sized splashes, pedro was aiming right at marianne and i. by the time i got up, it was too late and novel and sketchbooks were swimming too. (pedro, in case you’re reading this, we think you’re really really reeeally *swell* hee hee)
all the rest of the artists were gathering under a nearby tree in the backyard for a short demo on fields of red poppies from our experts. we already had all of our gear in our arms, protecting them from the pool storm, so we migrated to some wicker chairs and i painted in my suit till dinner that evening. another day in paradise slowly fading into the villages and the hills, the sun setting with the promise of another.
we knew that this day was going to be overwhelmed with crowds so we left our art supplies back at casacce. a three hour bus ride later, we parked along the arno and set out towards piazza santa croce, where the sunlight was just coming over the top of the church. some hesitated to go inside because we only had a day to see everything and we had to weigh out our options. our little group thinned with others wanting to go see the david, there was just so much to see! but i knew i had to go inside since i had seen david before. we became three. scott, mom and i spent the rest of the day together cramming in as much as our feet could bear.
the highlights of santa croce were many. one was standing in front of burial monuments where michelangelo and galileo rested just under the naves of the church, one decorated by the devoted art biographer, vasari. a sculpture standing tall and proud suddenly surprised me, i knew right away that she was the predecessor of the statue of liberty. she had the same arm reaching to the heavens and the pointed crowns, even the noble features matched lady liberty. she was called the “liberty of poetry” holding a lyre and laurel crown, feminine and gentle. we paused off and on through the rest of the cross shaped church, bright and beautiful frescos coming alive from art history books. realizing that it had only been about twenty minutes, i smiled thinking of all we had left to see and we headed towards the duomo.
getting there was a quite a sight through all the crowds down the famed via dei calzaiuoli. we weaved through all the hot mass of bodies covering the steps and area between the baptristry and the duomo to get a closer look at the golden doors. seeing the gates of paradise in person was just as wonderful the second time, but even more exciting was seeing the original versions in the nearly empty museo dell’opera. the panels were so bright in color and we were almost the only ones there to see them in all their glory. all the originals created by so many great artists were preserved inside the museum, including donatello’s unnerving magdalene.
michelangelo’s second pieta was lit from above and behind in a small arched room on the upstairs landing, it took your breath away as you came up the stairs. i still can’t believe that he formed it from a single block of marble and began work on it when he was in his seventies. though it remains unfinished, the pyramid of tangled bodies was meant for his funerary alter. and he left his mark in nicodemus, who has the features of the artist himself. i loved seeing the cheerful della robbias and all the gorgeous detailed stonework.
we continued (with cameras turned off) inside the basilicia of san lorenzo and the medici chapels. beautiful angelic songs burst from choirs lined outside in the piazzas for the holiday of st. john and st. peter. their voices drifted through the cloisters where the birds flew above us and we caught another view of the duomo in the distance. nothing could be added to the setting to make it more magical. michelangelo also seemed to be everywhere that day, and we walked up his grand marble staircase shaped like open arms that led up to the reading room of the library. the vestibule windows had a height scaled for the heavens, and even the woman accepting tickets at the biblioteca door had a beautiful carved wooden chair to sit in. the reading hall was so stunning! i could have stood under the remarkable ceiling all day, the inlaid floor underneath our feet was just so elegant. we realized that we were whispering and laughed how the place just automatically generated that kind of reverence. we wandered towards the chapels and just had to sit down and take it all in, by this time it was midday and our feet were slowing into a shuffle. but we really had to sit down because all of the inlaid stonework was just unbelievable. each segment of each color had to be cut and laid in, from where we stood in front of the alter it looked like a painting. we were dizzy trying to focus on one area alone, the grand scale of the room made me feel so small.
we ate some thick slices of margherita pizza while walking through an amazing mercado for lunch. mom and i briefly glanced at the gorgoues leather jackets and sweaters, but it was just way too hot to give them any serious thought. we swooned over all sorts of pretty belts and bags and…oops…pause the mercado for a second while i run back to the pizzeria toilette to wash off tomato sauce dribbles on my blouse. ahh yes, where were we? oh! the cashmere and silk pashminas! all of them stacked and displayed in multicolors, mom described it as a candy store. yum yum. i can’t wait to wear mine this fall when the weather cools and i have a little memento of florence around my neck in gold and green. the colors of the city.
time was up too quickly and we had to move on to see the uffizi before we could do anymore shopping. we were so hot we dripped our water bottles down our shirts and found some shade on the entry steps. the piazza nearby was a carnival of people and sculptures, even two wedding couples were part of the scene. we went down the neverending line of people waiting to get tickets and found a young family that would come with us so that we could have the right number in our group and walk right in without waiting. the doors opened and after passing through security, i ran up the stairs to find the botticelli room. part of me was desperate to be able to have just one close up picture, though none were allowed. that seemed to heighten my awareness while inside, since you have to rely on your memory in a day filled with visual overload.
did you know there is an incredible painted texture in the red robe of venus? the detail, the realism of even the tiniest blades of grass and almost invisible flowers in the foreground of la primavera…the sheer white gauzey veils on the dresses were so light and filmy and transparent they looked like they were floating underwater! no print in any book, no matter how nicely its printed, can truly show the details i didnt even know existed. i loved all the little gold patterns in the halos and folded in the decorative sleeves, the giant shining eyes. and all of this, in grand size, painted in tempera. the luminious expressions in the madonnas were so royal. i love how a secretive grin is always gazing away from the rest. they have always been a source of inspiration to me.
the very next room housed the adoration of the magi by da vinci which had been in the museum since the 1600s…unfinished, so you could see how he worked a painting. the landscape in background of da vinci’s annunciation was particularly gorgeous to me after seeing so much of the countryside already. i stood there wondering outloud how was he capable of mastering so many things in his lifetime? when just one of his paintings could have been one artist’s sole masterpiece…it seemed like they were almost just a hobby with the rest of his accomplishments.
we descended down the stairs to find a special exhibit of his notebooks and replicas of his models was almost too much after what we had already seen. with one foot in front of the other we looked through the claustraphobic hot rooms, knowing that we wouldn’t be able to really remember it all. i do remember that standing only a few inches away from his glass protected self portrait was amazing. but time was nearly gone and we saw the caravaggios in a blur on the way out.
we were back to three again, marianne mom and i and barely navigated back to where the bus was parked. one. foot. in front. of the other. marianne renamed her feet as “burning stumps of fire” and we giggled all the way along the arno towards the bus while gelato (of course we stopped on the way) dripped all over our arms and legs before we could really eat it.
back at cassace, we had quite the hilarious night that began with foot massages and slowly evolved into yogurt massages and finished up with all of our feet soaking in the bidets. i guess you could say it was one of those laughing fits that didn’t end and you just had to be there? (grin)
even at the height of tourist season, the sleepy smaller towns were less dense with people and proved to be my favorite. forget the mappa and just walk in any place your heart is calling since all leads to geranium flanked windows, cafes and hidden passageways. walking around in the dream trip i only wish that i spoke better italian. (next time, next time) from what i remember paolo saying, pienza was built by pope pius II desire to create the most ideal town during renaissance urbanization. even now, it feels like utopia. i think he accomplished his design, the skyline is one of my favorite from the places we visited. charming stylistic harmony, colors complimenting the landscape around it, what more could an aspiring painter crave?
just before our arrival into pienza, we happened upon a beautiful view of la foce. the curving “s” shape of the cypress trees on this famed road were planted by iris origo to make a nice view from her home and gardens. she risked her life in secret defiance of mussolini to provide solace to many devastated during world war II. even taking in prisoners to work on her land to prevent them from torture. her diary is already on my reading list since i admire her sense of responsibility during a time in history that i will never understand, but don’t want to forget.
as we enter into the town through a fresco painted archway, i meet some friendly kittens feeding on a porch. mom and i drove in bill’s vw, to save me some carsickness from the bus. we can’t wait for everyone and journey into a wonderland of flower potted terraces, beautiful expanses in the distance and meandering streets. i feel like i’ve never seen a more overwhelming witness to a thousand years of history. it’s so still and so very calm here. instantly i mark this town as a favorite. we soon run into a few from our group and after asking some women for directions (thank you phrase book) we find the mercado. two beautiful shirts are bought without trying them on. i hesitate over some spools of silk thread. we move on to the shops and make out like a bandit with a vespa, leather book, and a unique beaded necklace.
we seek out somewhere to eat lunch and as we are peering into a cafe window, a man suddenly heads purposely toward us from across the street bidding us good morning. he opens the cafe door and with a wide arm gesture and a “prego” he welcomes us in. “sandwiches?” si. thick crusty bread with fresh mozerella, tomatoes and basil, drizzled with flavorful olive oil. he is persistant that we dine in the garden (the front of his cafe) and we oblige, he moves the umbrellas to shade our table. we polish off with gelato and walk around some more before meeting up with our fellow artists to paint.
i’ve almost got a sketch of some awnings and some of the many serious bicyclers we’ve seen on devouting peddling on the steep roads. (i love to draw bicycles!) but the sun moves so quickly and not even my sunhat is helping. the shade disappears from behind the church and it takes a while to find another spot. i end up with barely enough sitting room on the edge of a building that overlooks the edge of town. people walk by and some comment on what i have so far, but i chose this spot because i was the only one around. at one point a teenage boy stands behind my shoulder and watches for what feels like an eternity, acting cool with his cigarette waiting for me to say something. (i smile to myself, tempted to use the verbal arsenal mom and i practiced in case we were met with pick pocketers, but i just fake “moody artist” and ignore him instead. what if he’s in the mafia?) just as i’m getting some paint on, its time to meet up for the ride back to casacce.
while we wait for antonio, we have the chance to see some of veronica‘s watercolors that she has hanging in a local tobacco shop. we’re all very impressed and some are lucky to come away with her originals. as an art history teacher, she really does have the best place to call home. i’m so satisfied about this day, i could leave and go home and it would be enough. but there is more. the bus makes one more stop. i run out to see the most beautiful lone chapel on a hill in the vast tuscan countryside. i take more pictures than i need and im the last back on the bus, beaming.
