Finding Florence – Page 19 – FUA-AUF Student Blog

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.

Documenting Strangers

By Chrystalla Christodoulou

Have you ever pondered on how you navigate the cities you inhabit or visit? In this piece I discuss a change in mediums I made in order to find my place in Florence’s streets.

Everything I love about art came from my introduction to photography. It made me appreciate the human body as poetry, with secrets being exchanged between subject and audience. My own camera has helped me turn moments of joy, doubt, and vulnerability into art.

However, when travelling, photography becomes a game for me; it gives me adrenaline and pushes me around. I didn’t want to remember my time in Florence as a rushed hunt.

So I bought a sketchbook.

Drawing pulls me to the ground. It slows me down, and makes me choose one single atom of this vivid city to analyse.

When someone realises I’m drawing them, they are usually amused. Vastly different from the angered looks I get as a photographer; I am seen as harmless when sketching. They sometimes accentuate their pose, or even ask to see themselves.

I sit on the steps of Palazzo Vecchio and observe a couple presumably travelling together. They are discussing the David, as tourists and residents alike rush by them. In that moment, they are still unaware of me so I take my time in documenting her hat and his ponytail.

When I look back at the drawing I remember waiting for my friend, knowing she’ll be mad because of my dead phone. I remember the man trying to make his companion laugh, and her looking away. I know exactly what song I was listening to, playing from a stranger’s phone. A new favourite.

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

Renaissance Reminiscing: Arte della Lana

Coat of Arms of the Arte Della Lana, the guild of wool merchants during medieval and Renaissance Florence. Produced by Andrea della Robbia. Photo by Jastrow.

By Bailey Hubacher

If I could travel back in time through this history of Firenze, my first stop would be the Renaissance due to strength and importance of the textile industry.

As both a Fashion Merchandising and Journalism major, I’ve always been interested in the beauty of Italian history. Now, this may sound cliché, but I wish I could have experienced Italian life during the Renaissance period and not just because it was one of the first cities in Europe to experience the beauty of the era. So let me break it down:

During the Renaissance, there were merchants, bankers, and an entrepreneurship tradition that worked together to make some of my personal all-time favorite fabrics: wool and silk. I am obsessed with the textiles in today’s fashion industry, but I can only imagine the beauty and craftsmanship that went into the early wool and silk industries. The whole process of carding, spinning, dyeing, and weaving wool into beautiful garments is amazing, and back in the day artisans made wool that you can only dream of today.

The textile industry in Firenze during the Renaissance made up a lot of the wealth and the city was dependent on the textile workers who specialized in the manufacturing and trading of wool. In fact, one third of the Florentine population was involved in the wool industry. Firenze during this time had guilds and for those of you who don’t know them, guilds were corporations established in the Middle Ages that basically governed the arts and professions.

The guild of the wool merchants was one of the most powerful in Firenze, and alongside the guild of bankers – who, in turn had their own financial networks – they were the powerhouses of wealth during this time. It was an era of prosperity and growth as well as the creation of beautiful art and literature. Who wouldn’t want to experience everything the Renaissance had to offer? It was during this time that some of my favorite fabrics of silk were introduced: lampas, brocades, and velvets. The silk industry experienced an expansion during the 15th century, which was much later than wool, but still a prominent part of this time period.

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

A Morning Walk in Florence

Texts and Photo Essay By Logan Hillen

One wouldn’t think to get up before the sunrises, but it is an experience that no tour guide can show you in the middle of the day. At 5am the streets are bare and free of any crowds, street vendors, or locals. All there are is you, and the street cleaners. This leaves a person free to enjoy every inch of the sights around them, uninterrupted and worry free. To see the Duomo, usually flocked by hundreds of people, completely empty is an overwhelming image and going at 5am gives you the opportunity to walk around it and take in the sight from bottom to top in its entirety. You can admire it in complete and utter peace.

Then after you have finally taken in the beautiful sight, you can head to a pedestrian-free Ponte Vecchio. Here, around 6am now, you have an entire bridge to yourself to scan the horizon uninterrupted from both sides of the bridge. If you face East, you can see the sky painted with a rising sun and the beautiful colors that follow. Getting up and taking a walk around the city before it wakes up is one of the best ways to explore Florence.

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