The rolodex of random thoughts

What with all of the travels and adventures of the trip, in many ways I would have to say that my favorite overall day had to be our last day in Florence.

As the final activity for me from the Janet Arnold conference, we had a special tour through the Palazzo Vecchio, which was the central Florentine palace of Cosimo de Medici and Eleanore of Toledo.  Despite all of the opulence of the palace, I honestly cannot say that any of it sticks in my memory.  Why?  Because I had just had it.  Over the course of the days, I saw and experienced so much stuff that I just hit a wall in terms of opulent exhibition.  Hand-painted frescoes, lapis lazuli encrusted ceilings, finely carved and gilded wooden sculptures…. OVERLOAD, OVERLOAD, OVERLOAD!!!!

By the time I left the Palazzo, it was just a little bit after noon, and I felt drained.  By this point, I was supposed to meet Paul and then join some other friends to cross over the Ponte Vecchio, take a bus to a nearby hillside, crawl all over Roman ruins, and view the highest vantage-point overlooking Florence.  But I just couldn’t.  No more!  No more!!!!  Mentally, I was waving a white flag.

When I met up with Paul, I think the look on my face must have said it all.  I just… couldn’t.  I couldn’t keep running a mile a minute.  I couldn’t go and see any more elaborate displays just yet.  So in utter sympathy, he lovingly agreed to blow off our previous plans in favor of wandering around.  WooHOO!  We strolled through the Florentine street market, where I picked up a to-die-for leather Armani jacket, and had an exquisite lunch at a local hole-in-the-wall restaurant.  Eventually, by mid-afternoon, we found ourselves ready for a new journey.  Looking at the map, I found that we were not far from where the statue of David was supposed to be.  “Let’s go there!” I said.

Ending up at where I *thought* David would be, I proved once again my inability to interpret maps.  But low and behold, we were at the Museu di San Marco.  “What the heck?” we figured.  “We’re at an old church museum.  Why not?”

But when we entered San Marco, it didn’t strike me as a typical church.  It had a lovely cloistered garden, but no centrally enclosed area for a mass.  Turns out, San Marco was not a church, but a Renaissance monestary.  The upper floor was completely intact with individual monks cells, each with its own perfectly preserved Renaissance fresco.  SWEEET!

The final cells that we viewed belonged to none other than Cosimo de Medici and Savanarola, the freakboy of the Inquisition.  But wait, it gets better.  In one large central room, a full scriptorium with no less than 30 intact antiphonals, and a display of the tools and techniques used to create the illuminated pages.  SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!  Yes, the illuminator in me geeked out at the unexpected find.  And in the gift shop, the best selection of illumination books I had yet seen on the trip. 

CANDYLAND!!!!!!!

With so many wonderful memories and so many great laughs, you’d think it would be hard to identify the single best moment of our trip. But ultimately, there is no question in my mind. Having already spent a good deal of time on the road to visit Montalcino earlier in the day, we hopped back into the car for part two of our merry adventure. Montalcino was certainly charming in its own way – nice cobblestone streets, a fun museum (oh look… another altarpiece!), and wine tasting in a Medici stronghold. And as we left, we passed grape orchards and cloud-covered valley towns that have stood the test of time. Ah… t’is good to be a tourist on a sunny day in the off-season!

Arriving in what seemed like a small and charming town, we found a public parking lot (a VERY welcome site), and began our journey through Pienza. Pienza was the childhood home of the future Pope Pius II. When Pius became pope, he had the town leveled – quite literally. The hilly landmass was leveled to create a piazza and other civic buildings. Today, in this tiny little Renaissance town, one can stand in the center of the piazza, and turn 360 to witness a scene from the Renaissance – untouched, and unblemished. Standing with a civic building to my back, I stood before the church built by Pope Pius. Lovely and sublime, this building did not reflect the grand over-the-top stylings of the duomos of Florence or Sienna, but reflected the local culture, along with much homage to the Piccolomini family, from which Pius was descended. To the right of the church, Pius’s palace stood in all of its glory. And the best part, because it was off-season, we had the run of the town. In fact, Paul, Kerri, and I found ourselves alone with an English-speaking tour guide to take us through the palace. DROOL! Renaissance furnishings! Renaissance landscapes! Renaissance EVERYTHING! Yes, we are geeks. But to see, smell, and touch the things that our SCA personas may have experienced was just amazing. But not as amazing as the view.

The balcony on the back of the palace overlooked a tranquil and beautiful countryside. Protected by national trust, the landscape can never be developed or modified – only restored. So the view, as far as the eye could see, looked as it did centuries ago. Could it GET any better? The answer – yes.

More on a silly whim than anything else, I convinced a tired Kerri and Paul to go to the museo across the piazza. I wanted to go if for no other reason than because one of the posters on the way into town showed a lifesized statue of a martyred saint. The saint had obviously been beheaded, and in depiction, he stands rather calmly, holding his own head in his hands before him, as if offering it to someone else. 

How WEIRD! How MORBID! I just gotta see it! 

So the pursuit of the headless bishop began. Upon entering the museum, I was pleased to see that it was not just full of altarpieces (which were quickly losing their appeal in my book). It was a “stuff” museum. And even better – we pretty much had the museum to ourselves. The museum had various treasures from the renaissance – everything from metalwork to enamels, to ivory, to painting, etc. And fortunately, by the time I got to the second room, my quest for the headless Bishop met fruition. Stifling an inappropriate giggle attack while viewing the morbid depiction, I posed near my friend, St. Headless, amused in my own twisted way at the Catholic fascination in martyrdom in all of its glory. Those wacky Italian artists! But something else caught my eye. Just barely visible in the next room, I could see fabric. Not JUST fabric – but cut velvets and ecclesiastical garments from the Renaissance. OOOOOOOH!!!!!!! This I did not expect. This I just had to see. REAL cut velvets! REAL metal-thread trims! Who knows what else might be there? Maybe there might even be some embroidery!

Leaving Paul and Kerri behind with St. Headless, I skipped ahead to the next room to see the fabrics. They were SO cool! I loved looking at the rich colors and textures. But what else was in the room? Turning my head slightly to the left, I saw… I saw…

I saw the single most important item that I have EVER seen in an exhibit – the Cope of Pope Pius II. 

With eyes opening wide, I inhaled the gasp of surprise and let out nothing less than a scream at its magnificence (looking back, I am SOOOO glad I didn’t exclaim, “Holy SH#*%$!” as I have been known to do when facing something so unexpected). Paul and Kerri came running to see if I had tripped or impaled myself on some exhibit. And there, holding back from crying my eyes out, I stood mesmerized before one of the single greatest embroidered treasures in the entire world.

 

As many of you know, I am an embroiderer – a really pretty darned good embroiderer too, if I do say so myself. As a result of various challenges in the SCA, my latest compulsion obsession interest has been Opus Anglicanum embroidery. Briefly, this is the style of embroidery made famous in the 12^th to 15^th centuries. It is probably the finest style of embroidery ever, referred to in period as “painting with silk.” Its use of shading and fine stitching is such that it creates very realistic detail, shadowing, texture, patterning, and portrait-like effect in a previously very flat and two-dimensional media. The cope of Pius II is easily one of the biggest, most well-preserved, and finest examples of late opus anglicanum in the entire world. Here is a small section of the magnificent piece (probably 3x3 inch square):

I didn’t think I’d ever see this cope! I didn’t know it was even there! This was truly a surprise beyond my greatest expectation. I just couldn’t move, transfixed by the elegance and magnitude of the masterwork displayed before me. As I stood there, nose against the glass, looking carefully at just one little section of the huge piece, I just couldn’t get over the fine detail of the stitching. It was LEAGUES beyond what I am currently capable of doing. Frankly, it went leagues beyond what I have seen anyone today do at all. But, but, but… HOW?! As close as I stood to the cope, I couldn’t even see the stitches, they were that tiny. “Ugh,” was the first form of expression that could come to mind, “I have a long way to go. A long, long, long way to go.”

I don’t know how long I stood before the cope, flipping back and forth between coherent English and excited 2-year old speech. Kerri, who had come into the room after hearing me scream, stood there with me, and asked some questions. I would flip back and forth between explanation and excited discovery. “This style of embroidery represents…. OOH! OOH! OOH! LOOK AT THAT! FRENCH KNOTS!!!! Um… within the period, people would… YES!!!! BLACK OUTLINING!!!! In your FACE doubters!!!! Um, this style represents a school developed in England that… OOH! OOH! OOH! The SHADING! Check out the SHADING!!!! WOWMAGANAWABAWOOT!”

I lost English several times while looking at the cope, trying to take in every detail, every bit of shading, every scene, and every bit of analysis that I could. But alas, the time came to leave. For me, that was my moment – my inspiration – my muse.

Arriving home, I have not been able to pick up my own unfinished Opus project. I did take a look at it when I got home – nice…. but not the same quality as the Pope Cope. Gods, I have a long way to go.