Overwhelmed at the Uffizi

Tuesday, was our first full day in Florence. It, like the entire first week passed in a veritable oceanic universe of art, sleepiness, excitement, and general bouncing off the walls with giddiness.

Our apartment is called “Ugone,” and is located in the Piazza di Santo Spirito (a really pretty little church, that just happens to contain an altar piece by Fra Fillipino Lippi.  No biggie. It’s just Italy.) I share a room with two other girls named Liz, and Charis. Our bathroom is gigantic, it has a shower, jetted tub, toilet, bedet, sink, and a washing machine that also happens to be a dryer. There are three other bedrooms and bathrooms, all filled, a living/dining room and most importantly a kitchen.

My roommate Liz and I started the day out the right way by going grocery shopping in a produce store that had the most delicious strawberries, eggplants, zucchini, pasta and tomato sauce, the butcher had fresh made pork sausage, and a bakery where we got (what else?) fresh bread. By the time we got back to our apartment, it was time to go get our museum passes, or lunch, depending on how starving we were. We stopped at a little panini shop near the ponte vecchio, where we got some sandwiches and were able to sit out back, looking over the bridge and the other side of the river. It was beautiful, peaceful, and felt so much like France, that I had to keep pinching myself to remind myself that we were in Italy. (The constant flow of Italian helped, but I’m still covered in bruises.)

After lunch we went to the Uffizio museum, which only enormous with art peeking out of every crack, cranny, crevice, wall, ceiling, and atom. It was gorgeous, inspiring, and utterly overwhelming. There were people everywhere, no one taking pictures tho (most museums in Italy won’t let you,) and no air conditioning to be felt either. In Europe, lack of air conditioning leads to stuffy rooms, and smelly people. Picturesque, but another thing to assault and distract one from the awe of being in a room the size of Carter Lobby filled with works from the fourteenth century.

Our assignment for the day was to study either a Botticelli painting or the Virgin Mary, and her representations. Most of our group picked Botticelli as we’d spent years studying him and are intimately familiar with “The Birth of Venus.” This painting is not only a poetic interpretation of the myth of Aphrodite, but an iconic representation of beauty that has helped define our modern day ideal of said quality. Ask yourself: where would we be without “The Birth of Venus?” Without it, what would be our understanding or view of beauty?

Interestingly, Botticelli seems to have settled onto one ideal or version of beauty and stuck with it. All of the women in each of his paintings has the exact same body. The only difference is an old woman in a painting about Midas, and the men who are all portrayed according to their saintly or godly attributes (depending on the subject of the painting.) Other wise, the only way the viewer can tell the women apart is through slight variations in the faces of women. Again, what does that say about how women were seen in the Renaissance? Let’s just say, most women of today would have major issues with Botticelli. I for one, would dearly like to travel back in time and have a heart to heart with him. It would not be pretty. (Evil grin.)

However, no one can deny Botticelli’s skill, nor can we ignore the fact that his painting’s are utterly distinctive. His ability to narrate through painting, is impressive, as is the almost poetic use of color, and the lyrical movement of his figures. “The Birth of Venus,” is undeniably beautiful. In person, one can notice that this is indeed a humanistic painting, in that the only things portrayed with any kind of realism are his figures. The trees and ocean are representational and stylized. I’d always imagined the painting to be full of bright colors, but in truth, I think it has oxidized a bit, as it has a very pastel look. I would have been able to enjoy seeing it a little more if not for the fact that the room was packed to the gills, maneuvering was practically impossible, and it was a balmy 80 degrees. Still, I’ll be going back this week.

We weren’t able to see everything in the museum, because we were so utterly image saturated after only an hour. We went back to our apartment, where I cooked up some pork spaghetti, with a quick ratatouille for veggies. After cleaning up, and agreeing to take turns cooking evening meals, we all collapsed into bed. Sleeping the sleeping of the severely jet lagged, unbothered by the nightly noises of a European city, yet anticipating the next day and the opportunity to FINALLY see Verrocchio’s, Donatello’s, and Michelangelo’s Davids. Ciao for now.