At
the AG there were the usual long lines, coming from both directions along the
narrow sidewalk on the narrow street. As
a group we were whisked to the front of one of the lines (there are definitely
advantages to being a group!), ‘though we still had to wait a bit. Once inside we were led by our guide to the
Gallery of the Slaves, which leads to the statue of David, standing by itself
in the center of its own well-lit rotunda.
In the dimly-lit GoftheS, it’s easy to be distracted by that big, beautiful
man-child up there on his pedestal. I tried to pay attention to what the guide
was saying about the Slaves, but unfortunately I had left my headphones at the
hotel, and even standing near him didn’t help much, as the place was so noisy –
a high-ceilinged, echoing room full of other guides talking to other groups – so
I finally gave up, and just went to look at each of the slaves.
These
are not crack-the-whip slaves, but rather slaves of the marble, trying to come
out. For that was Michelangelo’s belief:
that sculptures lurked within the marble, and just needed the artist’s help to
reveal themselves. There are four of
them, and they are in various stages of being revealed (or, one might say,
finished). Two of them especially look
very crude, very unfinished. To me they
demonstrate that a “work in progress” might be intellectually interesting – and
provide guides with lots to talk about – but emotional satisfaction comes from
the finished product.
As
to David, whom I ventured to visit next, while our guide was still
pontificating on the Slaves, he is absolutely amazing. The subtle muscles, the knees, the abs, the
perfect buttocks, and that calm,
smooth, boyish face. I’ve long held that the Mona Lisa, that
millions also flock to see, is way overrated, but Michel-angelo’s David is
not. To see the real thing, not a
picture in a book, is a deep pleasure.
By
the time our guide had moved the group into the David room, I had moved on, to
the two galleries that lie on either side.
These are taken up with those overblown paintings that I’ve mentioned
I’m not crazy about: swirling robes, voluptuous women, chunky cherubim on fat
clouds, everybody looking some degree of pained. But what was interesting about these paintings
was that they had all been restored, and there were small pictures below them,
that showed what they had looked like before the restorers (or “cleaners”) went
to work. What a difference! What a fascinating, but painstaking, job that
must be.
I
found fascinating the room at the far end of one of these galleries, called the
19th Century Room. Here are
lot of busts of regular folks who (nonetheless) could afford to have busts made
of themselves. These are not the
austere, essentially interchangeable busts (and in some cases full figures) of
classical Rome and Greece, but pictures in plaster cast (from which the final marble
statues were made) that actually show what the sitter looked like, capturing
not only dress and hairstyles, but expression, suggestions of personality. It made me want to rush out and have a bust
made of myself, although I really should have had that done before the days of
a fattened face and drooping jowls were upon me.
 |
| Mary Magdalene by unknown artist, 1280-1285 |
And
while I was enjoying all of this, the rest of the group were still standing
around David, while the guide went on and on.
Pat said he eventually got to where he was telling them about other
groups he had led, which included famous sport and entertainment celebrities
who made amazingly stupid comments about the statues. Perillo Tours, I think perhaps this part of
your Marco Polo Tour could be improved upon.
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