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We had barely just arrived in Florence and were already off to the Galleria dell’Accademia (Do not pass “Go”; Do not collect $200) to feast our eyes on David’s aesthetically pleasing, classically small penis. Michelangelo’s David is the world’s most famous sculpture and, as we stood in line for the gallery – full of many priceless works of art – the David was all we could talk about. Once inside, I half-expected a Louvre-like experience where everyone makes a mad dash for the Mona Lisa, passing long halls of brilliant masterpieces at a speedwalker’s pace, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover a reasonable level of restraint among my fellow art lovers. This collective civilized behavior resulted in a relaxed ambience which allowed everyone to enjoy the art-filled rooms leading to the David.
David, standing 5.16 meters tall in pearly white marble, bathed in perfect soft light, muscles tensed, with a mane like Adonis, is a vision of jaw-dropping perfection of the male form. I had seen countless photos of him and still he was more beautiful than I imagined. He is so striking that you cannot take your eyes off him; you can only stare at him in total awe. There were rooms of oil paintings surrounding him but I could not concentrate on them – I kept coming back to David. Soon I gave up on the idea of seeing anything else and took a seat, letting my mind envelope David completely. He was so magnificent that it almost hurt to look at him because you knew that eventually you would have to leave him. I realize that it sounds silly, this instantaneous obsession with an exquisitely carved piece of marble, but it wasn’t just me and it wasn’t just the women who fell in love at first sight. The men were equally smitten with David’s beauty and unabashed in expressing their admiration, which is likely due to his nonthreatening, aesthetically pleasing, classically small penis. In any case, we were all heartbroken when the time came for our inevitable departure and, even as I write this now, I feel the pain of loss and the hope that I will see him again.
After the David, our next days in Florence were packed with beautiful churches, museums and palaces, divided by walks through the beguiling streets of Florence. The Uffizi Gallery, containing the private art collection of Florence’s famous Medici family, exhibited ancient Greek statues, gorgeous iconography, dazzling masterpieces by Raphael, Caravaggio and an entire room devoted to Botticelli paintings. The Bargello, an art museum housed in a medieval prison, displayed Renaissance sculptures by Donatello, Michelangelo and Luca della Robbia as well as an impressive special exhibition of iconography. We never tire of seeing galleries like these, overflowing with priceless works of art that you read about in books and never imagine standing in front of the real thing.
We attended a decidedly uninspiring Catholic mass at the Duomo, mostly because it happened to be starting when we arrived and because we thought the service would be beautiful. It was the Duomo after all! Disappointingly, there was no music and the sermon was so dry and monotone that we struggled to stay awake. We said our prayers and silently missed our wonderful church in Fort Worth, where our dear Father Michael Stearns delivered moving and memorable sermons that made us eagerly anticipate Sunday services.
The 19th century façade of the Duomo was a stunning work of pink, green and white marble but the interior was surprisingly sparsely decorated save for the magnificent frescoed dome. Most of the cathedrals that have had such ornate faces have had equally ornate interiors, often to the point of overkill. Inside the Duomo, the absence of religious art makes the cavernous interior seem strangely incomplete. We preferred the interior of the Basilica di Santa Croce, which contained the tombs of three famous Florentines: Machiavelli, Galileo and Michelangelo. The tombs were marked by beautifully sculpted and painted monuments.
The best thing about Florence however, besides David, is just being in Florence. The neighborhoods are beautiful to walk through with their colorful weathered buildings and pretty café-lined piazzas. A walk along the Arno River that runs through the city affords some of the best views, especially around the Ponte Vecchio – a picturesque bridge with small jewelry shops lining both sides all the way across. But you haven’t seen Florence until you’ve seen it from Piazzale Michelangelo on one of the many hills that surround the city. Only from an elevated position can you take in the sea of red rooftops punctuated by the Duomo and the dreamy Arno, its small bridges reflecting on the lazy river’s glassy surface. We spent over an hour just looking across the cityscape.
Florence is a magical city, a Romantic city, a city rightly obsessed with its own colorful, artistic history. Florence is a place to get lost and a place to be found. The spirit of Michelangelo lives on in every piazza, on every street corner, and in the heart of every visitor who beholds the David.
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