Featured – Page 9 – Finding Florence

Hidden Florence: Costa San Giorgio

By Alyssa Schultz

One student’s perspective on the neighborhood of Costa San Giorgio.

When I first arrived in Florence, I was in a shuttle from the airport, dropping off other students from my program. I was becoming intrigued about where my home would be for the next few weeks. Until, I was the last student on the shuttle. We were suddenly driving over the Arno River, away from everything, or so I thought. We were driving through the winding roads, going higher up into the hills, surrounded by trees. At the time, I had no idea the amount of art and culture that lived in my backyard. That was until multiple Florentines told me how lucky I was to be living on Costa San Giorgio; how it was one of their favorite neighborhoods in the city. But all I could think about was the hill I had to climb daily to get to my apartment. After Costa San Giorgio came up multiple times, I decided to go find out why locals loved it so much.

I did a little research and the things I found were incredible. To start there was Palazzo Pitti, which contains works by Michelangelo, Titian, Raphael, Rubens, and so many more. Attached to Palazzo Pitti are the Boboli Gardens which consist of 11 acres. It is one of the largest public parks in Florence and I had no idea that it was there, hidden behind the walls that surround it. Another short walk from my apartment brings you to the Piazzale Michelangelo. This is where I believe the best views in Florence are. You can see it all; the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, and even the mountains in the distance.

These places are just a small preview of the art and history that is in this neighborhood. I cannot even begin to describe the amount of food, wine, and shopping that is available. After seeing all my neighborhood has to offer, I am grateful to be living on Costa San Giorgio for the weeks that I am here. I can now appreciate the beauty, art, culture, and especially the people. It is not just some hill I have to climb!

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

The Birds Are What Make Florence Magical

By Oceana Minthorne

A unique approach at one student’s thoughts on Florence and a twist on what others typically find as ugly.

Living in Florence has taught me to look up! There is always something going on. Whether it’s a moped about to crash into a pedestrian, a super trendy outfit or a musician creating magic for your ears, you are sure to be delighted wherever you find yourself.

I think my favorite “thing” about Florence is the birds. I find that during sundown they gather together and put on a show. I’ve come up with a theory and it goes like this: the birds spend all day on the ground going unnoticed and despised that they then decide every evening to redeem themselves. They call upon their friends and relatives and have dance offs. They practice different routines when no one is watching and put them to use when on center stage.

The stage they choose is the Duomo at sunset. The cotton candy skies are their backdrop and their helpful prop is the most beautiful thing in all of Florence. They soar, twist, turn, and flip upside down and right side up all over again. They are dancers, fliers, performers.

I was lucky to have been placed in an apartment that boasts a rooftop terrace. As often as I can, I make it up there when the sun is bidding us adieu. I sit down with my neck craned towards the sky and wait for the magic. They flock in hundreds and cloud the sky on route to their stage.

Wave upon wave of birds take hold of all that I can see. Once the progression of performers has slowed down I stop looking up and cast my sights on the show that is just beginning. One group soars in from the left while another group soars in from the right and yet another group comes in from the back. This step is repeated a few times over until a new move is introduced and the algorithm is repeated.

They do this magical dance until there is no daylight to cast rays upon them and make their act visible to all the onlookers. Tomorrow they’ll return to the streets and redeem themselves again in the evening.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

Beauty from the Deep

By Emily LaLuna

A story about a moment of positive solitude in a local garden in Florence, Giardino Delle Rose.

Normally, the word solitude is associated with a negative connotation. After four months of living in Florence and dealing with the transition of being far from home, many have discovered that it has a much deeper meaning and doesn’t always need to be an unenthusiastic concept. Solitude is good for the soul; it allows a deeper connection with yourself where you can truly discover the underlying beauty within. There are many positive moments of solitude in everyday life, here’s a short story about one.

A solitary lotus flower sits on top of a small pond in Giardino Delle Rose. With its roots planted firmly in the mud, it blooms into a beautiful site every day. Since the time the seed was planted in Florence, it has broken through the layer of mud it was placed beneath and blossomed into a fascinating part of life. It has grown in a positive manner, despite the murky place where it comes from. Upon arrival in the pond, the seed was afraid of what was to come, yet determined to face it. The goal was to break through and radiate light into the world, spiritually and physically. Not just for self-love but to help the people.

Humans admire beauty and the flower wanted to share what was inside. Its strengths have truly been shown and it has overcome the obstacles that have been thrown at it all its life. Having to navigate through the dark and around many other things in its path, it has become a flower who no longer hides in the depths of the pond or even just beneath the surface. It has emerged from the water and unfolded day after day, exposing itself to this big city and sharing everything it has to offer. Being alone in the bottom of the pond has allowed the growth and ability to flourish into the exquisite flower it has always wanted to be.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

Florence’s Marzocco Lion

By Kellie Bessette

Florence is covered with many versions of the Marzocco lion that date back to the Middle Ages. The Marzocco lion is the animal symbol of the free Republic of Florence.

While there are no real lions hunting the streets of Florence, statues of lions have been seen around the historic city center since the Middle Ages. The Marzocco lion, also known as the heraldic lion, is a symbol representing the free Republic of Florence. The Republic chose a lion not only because lions are a universal symbol for strength, but because they are able to tear apart eagles, which is the symbol of imperial power.

During the Middle Ages, it was not uncommon for nobles to present each other with exotic gifts. By the fifteenth century, as many as 24 lions were kept in cages behind Palazza Vecchio, or what is now Via dei Leoni. According to legend, one of the lions escaped and snatched a child during the reign of the Primo Popolo. The lion gave the child back to it’s mother unharmed and was dubbed a symbol of good luck for the people of Florence.

The most famous Marzocco was sculpted by Donatello in 1418 and was originally installed at Santa Maria Novella for Pope Martin V. The piece was later moved to Piazza Della Signoria in 1812. The lion is seated protecting the red fleur de lis, the coat-of-arms of Florence. The lion’s eyes are wise and the body is lifelike. Within the same piazza, two large lions guard the entrance to the Loggia dei Lanzi.

Another spotting of the Marzocco lion is located at Piazza Santa Croce at the Statue of Dante. The Statue of Dante was created in 1865 to celebrate the poet’s 600th birthday. Four heraldic lions stand at each corner of the pedestal holding shields with the names of Dante’s works. With many more statues of the Marzocco lion, it is clear that this animal has such an important historic connection.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

Apollo and Daphne

By Chrystalla Christodoulou

One of the most famous sculptures in the Borghese Gallery in Rome is Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne. The masterpiece captures the story of Daphne who after being pursued and harassed relentlessly by Apollo, asks her father – a river god – to save her by changing her body. In this piece I imagine Daphne’s last thoughts before she is turned into a tree.

God of light cannot get enough, he cannot let go of the dream bestowed on him by Cupid’s arrow.

I twist against him, my voice hoarse from hours of yelling for help.

Destroy the beauty that has injured me, although my beauty has nothing to do with Apollo’s antics

In my desperation I call out in vain for someone to shift the space in between us, alter whatever it is he wants or change the body that destroys my life

Suddenly I feel a rush, a ferocious buzz go through my body as my flesh turns into bark. I don’t know how, but as soon as it starts I know that this is what is happening. My limbs grow heavier as I attempt to keep on running, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth which now tastes like grass. And my skin is now changing, I see it on my arms shifting colors and textures. In one last moment of brilliance I catch a glimpse of my fingers as they slowly turn into branches. Their growing leaves astound me, and for a second I forget what is happening. For a second I am a fairy, I have leafy fingers that could turn into paintbrushes, or maybe wings. I let out a laugh before my eyes close forever.

My sight is gone but the rest of my senses, I can tell, are stronger now. I can hear the god-boy’s cries, but they are indeed far away. I am rooted in this land, forever perhaps.

Yes, he is free to roam and boast, but he is nothing more than a boy. Maybe one day a branch of mine will strike him down. For now I am safe, I am rooted in this land, strong.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

Rainy Afternoons

By Chrystalla Christodoulou

A student’s perspective on rainy days in Florence and learning to find something beautiful in everyday life.

Nothing is as pretty as the Duomo after it’s rained. The bright colors turn somber. Suddenly it turns from playful and boasting to wise. I drink it all in without stopping, I’m already late.

I bought gloves yesterday, the type with no fabric to cover your fingers. My friends make fun of me, asking me what their use is. It’s true, for most of the day my fingertips remain frozen. But the lack of fabric gives me freedom to write even if I’m outside or send a quick text.

Sit n’ Breakfast was the first coffeeshop we discovered in Florence, spotted by a friend who was here for only a few days. I used to come here every other day, determined to befriend all the baristas and practice Italian in what felt like a safe environment. I wrote in my journal: I am in love with coffee shops that feel like someone’s backyard; I am simply visiting a friend. I sat outside and revelled in the glorious sun, the same burning sun my friends complained about. I read my book and sketched for hours.

Then came a long pause, a time of intense budgeting and pushing myself to visit churches, museums, anything I could get in with my Uffizi card. I would quickly pass Sit n’ Breakfast, and the other hundreds of quaint coffee shops and try to ignore their call. But after I came back from Fall break I found my Florence different, moodier. Suddenly it actually rained, and I never needed my sunglasses. As someone who grew up on a Mediterranean island and has spent the last few years in Texas, it’s safe to say I don’t do well in “bad” weather.

But I surprised myself, not for the first time this semester. In the mornings I noticed the significant decline of tourists on the bridges as a result of the cold. I paused on the empty Ponte alle Grazie, my favorite bridge, looked at the almost silver sky, and enjoyed this newfound solitude. Almost in a trance, I found myself making my way into new coffeeshops. Without the promise of a long sunny day, that ridiculous guilt of not “making the most out of it” is gone and instead I can sit inside for hours. Speaking of ambiance is inherently cheesy, but I can’t help but smile thinking of the soft colors that accompany a fall evening in a coffee shop, the soft chatter and even softer music. Whether I’m reading, memorizing conjugations, or sketching, I can stay there until the music starts getting louder, and I know it’s aperitivo time.

To learn how to travel is to learn how to live, said Goethe. I learned that from my literature class I’ve been taking in Florence. I’ve learned that finding something beautiful and comforting in everyday life is easier than most of us like to think.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

Van Gogh’s Colors

By Chrystalla Christodoulou

“Loving Vincent”, and what Vincent van Gogh can teach us about color and life.

“Loving Vincent” is the first movie to ever be produced using only oil paintings. In order to make this dream a reality, the movie’s production team hired 500 artists from around the world who not only were amazing in their own right, but could paint in Van Gogh’s different styles with painstaking accuracy.

I watched the movie in the cinema, and I am convinced it is the only way to really appreciate it’s magic. It does not miss a beat and from the first scene we are introduced to its interesting nature. The paint strokes are always moving, crawling across the screen in a spiral or straight line. Every slight change in facial expression is captured, every scrunch of the eyebrow, every shoulder shrug. I remember sitting up when the young protagonist is smoking and talking to someone. After taking a drag, he looks away in order to not blow the smoke in the face of his companion. Little details like this could have theoretically been omitted, and the five year long project maybe wouldn’t have taken as long. Yet, the honesty the movie exudes would not have been present.

The movie is filled with “Easter eggs” as most of, if not all, scenes are inspired or adapted from one of Van Gogh’s paintings, including every single speaking character! While the story that is played out isn’t necessarily true, it is interesting to see how the death of one of the world’s most beloved artists might have affected the people around him.

During my Fall Break I visited London for the first time and after seeing “Loving Vincent” I made sure to not miss Van Gogh’s corner in the National Gallery. Exhibited in a room with Pissarro, Seurat, Toulouse-Lautrec and others, his pieces take up an entire wall. This was the first time I had seen his work in real life. Upon seeing “Farms near Auvers”, which was included in one of the most visually engaging scenes in the movie, I understood why the idea for “Loving Vincent” came up. Even in a still painting, Van Gogh’s brush strokes seem to be dancing.

Florence illuminates with color throughout the day, shifting through tones of a similar palette. On my walk to school I play a game. I try to see how many colors I can find in new places. Electric blue on this lady’s eyelids, yellow socks on that toddler, a rainbow caught in a puddle on the street. It is said we dream in black and white. All the more reason to live in pursuit of full, brilliant color.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

An Intimate Portrait of Pietra Serena

By Oceana Minthorne

Anyone who has visited Tuscany will appreciate pietra serena, a gray stone found in architectural and sculptural details as well as street pavement throughout cities such as Florence, Siena, and Arezzo. It has been used by the ancient Etruscans and cited since Renaissance times by the likes of Vasari. Oceana Minthorne shares an intimate and personified portrait of pietra serena.

I wish I could lay down on the floor and stare for hours. The stone is so smooth. Opposite from me, I want to be it. Perfect. Elegant. Clean. It envelopes this entire ceiling, cascades onto the walls, and delicately embraces the floors. The stone is cool but inviting, like the girl you envied in high school and wanted to be friends with but didn’t know how to talk to. Serena. Calm. She is just that.

The dome is circular. It goes round and round and does not stop. Gets back to its starting position and begins again. Never tiring. Effortlessly elegant.

I wish I could lay down on the floor and stare for hours. Melt into the ground, become the stone. I would have a view of the dome forever. I could watch visitors “oooh” and “aaah” over my aesthetic. They could step on me and it wouldn’t hurt. I’d be quarried from Fiesole. The best. They’d talk about how strong and sleek I am. I would inspire Steve Jobs and bits of me would be placed all over the world.

I am the stone. Perfect. Elegant. Clean. I fill the room, the ceiling, the walls, the floor. I am cool, inviting, Serena.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

A Glance into Florentine Tabernacles

The Florentine Tabernacle Canto di Monteloro on Via degli Alfani.

By Emelia Imperati

Tabernacles cover the streets of Florence, adding further religious, historical and aesthetic appeal and meaning to the city. Canto di Monteloro is one example of these beautiful and purposeful creations, dedicated to their patron saints.

Although it is customary to be swept away by the grandiose markers of Florence, such as the Duomo or the Santa Croce, many tourists overlook the hidden treasures that flood the city. The Florentine tabernacles cover many streets and offer additional historic and artistic significance that is often overlooked by travelers. Depictions of Pagan gods were originally displayed around the city but were later replaced by images of saints after Constantine’s conversion to Christianity. During the 14th century, Italian towns dedicated themselves to patron saints, and Florence reflected their vowed devotion to the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist through the approximate 1,200 tabernacles. These religious testaments were built to offer support for the Christian doctrine during the war against heresy, during which groups challenged Catholicism. They also were used as a source of protection during the plague in 1348, the year of the “Black Death” Residents utilized them through candle lightings, written prayers, and placed offerings to seek out defense from the patron saints against disease and death. They were commonly commissioned by middle class families, as those of greater wealth focused on assisting cathedrals, chapels, sculptures and more elegant decorations and structures.

One of these tabernacles placed on Via degli Alfani, on the corner of Borgo Pinti, was a common site for these behaviors, customs and beliefs of the past. It was named Canto di Monteloro, meaning Corner of Monteloro. It reflects an illustration of the Virgin Mary holding the child, surrounded by Saint John and Saint Peter. It was built by Compagnia della’Assunta, one of the companies of the Festive Powers, an association of regional companies that created exhibits, parties and banquets. They played an essential role in the construction of antiquities of late Renaissance Florence. The Canto di Monteloro was made with a popular and traditional stone of this era known as pietra serena, which was used for many other structural and artistic creations throughout the city. Below the image of the three saints is a portrayal of a cross on a 3-pointed mountain, which became the crest that gave name to the song the tabernacle was named after, and also to the powerful festive power, Montiloro, who gathered at this location. A wide shed resembling a small chapel originally protected the ornament, but was destroyed by traffic in the street. The fresco underwent several reconstructions overtime and was removed in 1953 for an extended period of time by the Superintendent for Artisitic and Historical Property. It was later replaced in this original location in 1991, and still remains as a beautiful additive to the street.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.

I Wish I’d Been Here When: My Home Was a Nunnery

Artwork from my apartment’s walkway depicting angels and other religious imagery. Image courtesy of apartment building.

By Isabel Pellegrino

My apartment used to be a convent dating back to the 15th century. I can’t help but wonder about the way the nuns lived here. I wish I was able to go back in time to better understand their lives and how they perceived Florence and its future.

I wish I had been in Firenze when nuns gathered in my apartment’s kitchen. In the 15th century, my apartment was a convent. It is hard to picture this space as home to a religious community. While I try to embrace the Italian culture in all of it’s beauty and class, I am not sure the way I live could ever be compared to the grace of a Renaissance nunnery. Yet, here I am. Through an old wooden door, rod iron gates and a few flights of stone stairs, you will find us cooking and practicing our Italian; sometimes we feel like it’s the best we can do to connect with those who occupied this space before us.

During the 15th century, Florentine convents were evolving from small communities to large institutions, according to historian Sharon T. Strocchia in her book “Nuns and Nunneries in Renaissance Florence.” It became common practice for highly- educated unmarried women to congregate in convents. As a result, nunneries became hubs for research, academic dialogue and political influence. As I sit at the kitchen counter of my apartment, I dream of traveling back in time to speak with these women. I can see them now gathering around tables with their noses in books and crosses around their necks. Question after question would flow from me: What is it like to be women leaders of a religion often dominated by men? What do you see your legacy as? What does Firenze mean to you and your faith? How can I honor your lives in my time?

But more than anything else, I wish I had the chance to roam the Florentine streets with them and see the city through their perspective. In the midst of the Renaissance, I wonder how they felt about the art and how it influenced their faith. I wonder if they had any idea of what the convent space would become in the centuries afterwards. While I will never have a time machine during my fleeting few months in Italy, my roommates and I have pledged to take time every day to be grateful for our apartment and our lives in Italy. When we sit around our dinner table and discuss culture, religion, politics and philosophy, it’s almost as if we have been transported back in time by the everlasting art of conversation. I like to imagine the nuns doing exactly this, just centuries ago. Our apartment bridges our times together. So maybe, we aren’t all that disconnected after all.

See more of Florence and Italy at FUA’s FB, Instagram, and Twitter.