Firenze, Italy

Perfetto

At my trip's inception, Reykjavik and Florence were my two definite destinations - I set them as bookends and starting filling the spaces between.

My route would of course change, but my expectations only increased. What little I've retained from the Academy's many Art History courses (sorry mom & dad) is vividly centered on Florence. The artistic center of Italy. Home to some of the world's greatest masterpieces. The city that birthed the Italian Renaissance, probably the single most significant point in recorded human history - perhaps even the sole reason that we have a recorded history. Suffice to say I entered the city with brimming anticipation.



Florence exceeded all those expectations. This place does not simply contain art - it is art. The entire city is a work of beauty, deserving of the same attention and reverence one would devote to any praised Renaissance masterpiece.

Every building contains something worth investigating. Every detail bears something intricately beautiful. Every space sits perfectly with its surroundings, and there are countless secrets to discover amongst the crooked cobbled streets. The very city layout can be traced with golden section measurements. I've mentioned the beauty found within geometry and mathematics - this city seems to have been constructed not simply with that concept in mind, but with that rule as a foundation. An underlying subconscious notion that wasn't as much considered as it was implied without statement.

Of course, most people care more about Prada than Pythagoras, so I probably just sound like a total nerd.

(Ha, "sound like".)



I was in Cub Scouts when I was a kid, and I remember going on one of my first camping trips ever. I was awestruck by the scenes I found - sweeping views of endless trees, breathtaking panoramas, huge cerulean skies and shimmering starlit nights. I vividly recall going through a half-dozen rolls of film with my plastic 35mm camera, clicking madly at everything that made me go "wow".

I also remember when those pictures came back from being developed. I flipped through every single one and just started crying because they didn't look anything like they had when I was out there. All the enchantment of standing in those places had been left behind, somehow entirely escaping the click of my shutter.



The most beautiful parts of Florence cannot be photographed, for similar reasons. Much of the art in photography is choosing how to frame your shot - what to include, where to utilize your frame's edge to improve the scene. But some sights, like those you find while hiking a mountain's spine, or standing in the center of a chapel composed atop perfect geometric precision, are all but destroyed by the presence of a boundary. You can't put these things in a box - and when you try, all you get is a cruel representation of that amazing place you remember.

I guess it's the difference between how a place looks and how it feels.

More importantly, I guess it's reason for me to return here someday.



I also spent one day on a trip down to Rome, spending most of that time at the Vatican. That place is awesome, in the biblical sense. I try to imagine how it felt, centuries ago, as a foreign visitor to the Vatican. How could you not believe in the power of God? Just look at all the glittery *stuff* he gave these guys!

It's really quite overwhelming. Every inch of their mile-long hallways contains some artwork or ancient object. Every object bears masterfully crafted ornamentation. Every ornament is emblazoned with... something. I felt like I was wasting money just standing there.

There is a modern art section of the Vatican Museum that isn't very good, because it contains modern art. However, I was delighted that they chose to include one of Francis Bacon's papal portraits. Naturally, they selected one of the more flattering depictions. Not this one.

It's an astounding place to visit, and there are absolutely zero limitations on photography, which was a pleasant surprise. Had it not been the most tourist-packed location of my trip so far, I would have been even more awestruck by it all.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder how many millions of people might eat dinner tonight if they sold off and donated one closet worth of stuff.



Each city I visit instills in me a unique impression. Prague left me wondering if the works of Neil Gaiman are based on fact. Reykjavik impressed upon me how beautiful and unique a culture can be when it grows up in harmony with its geography. Venice made me dizzy and hungry.

Florence leaves me with a glimpse of infinite creative energy, the notion that all things are available to be discovered.

I depart Italy more than a little amazed.