Italy Day 7 – The Michelangelo and the Strada Masters

 Mandy got us early tickets to the Accademia Gallery, so we’re in as small a crowd as possible in this busy museum.  Of course, the star of the show is the original statue of David, Michelangelo’s crowing masterpiece.  Whenever I go to see such an exhibit, I wonder why the particular blockbuster piece has become so famous, eclipsing the other masters that fill the halls.  In this case, the sheer size of the piece certainly contributes to the stature of the statue.  But the informative sign next to it really captures why.  Michelangelo found a block of abandoned granite in a courtyard in Florence and asked if he could use it, so the whole thing starts with a redemption story.  He carved David, the original underdog in his fight against Goliath.  Besieged on all sides, the tiny city of Firenze loves an underdog story every bit as much as Philadelphia.  Then he executed the piece better than anyone ever had, capturing motion and moment, just like the Philly Special on fourth down.

As much we enjoyed David, I may have enjoyed the Gipsoteca Bartolini gallery even more.  This space features plaster casts, the working models, from hundreds of sculptures.  It’s a real look behind the curtain as to how these pieces came into existence and just fascinating to me.  Now that we know everything there is possibly to know about art, we leave the museum, through the gift shop of course.

It’s hard, maybe impossible to be in Florence for the first time and not get excited about the leather goods.  It’s a chicken and egg thing - Bistecca alla Florentina and leather goods – but they both permeate the city.  We’ve seen everything from the street huckster stalls (begging you to come in) to the ultra-high-end brands (with locked doors so you have to beg to come in.)  We find an owner run shop open early with very nice quality and design.  Mandy feels comfortable right away, as the owner suggests a few pieces that perfectly compliment her petite frame.  We both settle on our selections then have them shipped home so we don’t have to struggle with the additional baggage at the airport.

In the shopping mood, we take another look at the street artists.  Yesterday’s winds have died down and it’s warmer, so there are double or triple the number of painters lining the squares.  Fortunately, the crowds are quite a bit smaller, too.  We look at works by a dozen artists or so, all Masters in their own right, but connect with one woman’s work in particular.  Mandy picks out a monochrome nude, and the artist says “Oh, of course you like her.  You are American, she was a strong woman”, referring to the model. 
“Is she a strong woman?” The artist asks me, pointing to Mandy.  I need only to smile.

Within minutes, she and Mandy are deep in conversation.  As an artist in one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world, she has become a kind of sociologist, and discusses her impressions of women from various countries.  At the end she throws in an additional piece “for you, from me, so you’ll always remember me good.”

Lunch in a sidewalk café, front row gives great people watching.  It’s like the UN with shopping bags.  We take coffee like a local standing at the bar, strong espresso, Mandy an old pro at this by now.  Back to our very civilized retreat on the square for naps, refreshes and generally being in the lovely space.

Exploring the streets early evening, we end up along the river towards the setting sun.  Well kind of setting sun.  The sun dips behind a building as a faux sunset, but if you missed it, just take a few more steps and watch it happen again.  It’s an on-demand option offered by this town, very convenient for us turistas indeed.  Dinner is at Rooster, a well-reviewed restaurant in the swank shopping district.  If Trattoria Marione last night represents what dining has been, Rooster represents what dining is becoming.  Well appointed, smartly decorated, the menu heavily influenced by the traditional but with some modern tweaks.  Culinary evolution hasn’t stopped here, it just goes at an Italian pace.