A Conversation in Time

By: David Warren

February 14, 2014

As I look back on my first month in Florence, the day I spent discovering the Brancacci Chapel and the Palazzo Pitti stands out particularly brightly in my memory.

Out on a walk to explore the other side of the river, I almost passed the plain-looking exterior of another church without a second thought. But when I recognized it for the Brancacci Chapel––home to Masaccio’s revolutionary paintings heralding the beginning of the Renaissance––nothing could hold me back from excitedly entering to see for myself the works of art I had peered over in books years before.

I entered the Church of Santa Maria del Carmine from the adjacent cloisters designed by Brunelleschi and ascended a dark staircase leading up to the chapel. Assuming the scent was from Mass earlier that morning, I smelled a trace of incense redolent of earlier times. Once I entered the church, the vibrancy of Masaccio’s brightly restored colors made me wonder if I was viewing modern-day copies at first. Seeing the actual paintings in the setting they were designed for was a gratifying improvement over any renditions I had seen before from a slide. The original paintings, which could seem flat or dull on paper, reveal why they have endured for so long.

Alongside the paintings stood an older, Byzantine altarpiece with a gold-laden Madonna and the baby Jesus. Masaccio’s paintings break from an earlier time with perspective and action. The chapel itself is set amid a third period; baroque angels airily glide high up among delicately intricate clouds on the ceilings above.

Once I had taken in the numerous faces and gestures of the artworks, it was time to go. I headed out to the street and continued towards the Palazzo Pitti and the Boboli Gardens.

The massive palace, once inhabited by the Medici and various royal families throughout its history, now offers a seemingly infinite art collection to the public. The palace can only be rivaled by the enormous gardens that surround it. Modern sculptures dot aging grottoes, brilliant chandeliers hang from high ceilings, and countless oil paintings line walls from nearly top to bottom.

Some rooms retain their palatial furnishings and offer more than a glimpse into the authentic royal treatment. A tour guide mentioned that most of these rooms feature items from an array of different time periods, so it’s difficult to assert that one room belongs to a specific period. The bathroom ceiling of the queen looked like a miniature Pantheon. By the time I reached the nineteenth and twentieth century art and the costume exhibit inhabiting the upper floors, it was almost too much for my eyes to take in.

On the walk back across the Arno, a certain line from Fellini’s film 8 ½ lingered in my thoughts: “Se non si può avere il tutto, il nulla è la vera perfezione,” meaning, “If you can’t have everything, nothing is true perfection.” After trekking through the massive gardens and wandering throughout the extensive art galleries full of sculptures and paintings, I’m convinced the Medici had everything. Even if there was some sign of decay––a stone bench that looked like it had been broken for ages or an outdoor chapel covered with graffiti––so much of Florence’s history amazingly coexists within a present-day city.

Yet at the end of the day, I realized this fusion between past and present was nothing new; it was Florence itself as it has been for centuries. The city continues to witness an ever-evolving conversation among the ages. Its participants are the Byzantine, Renaissance, and Baroque paintings in the Brancacci chapel or its ancient, narrow streets and modern cars.

The times continually enrich each other. The past influences life in Florence at all levels; even Florence’s buzzing menswear event is entitled Pitti Uomo––harkening back to the wealth, power, luxury, and sophistication of its namesake. The present day has brought unprecedented levels of restoration and preservation to the arts. Passing the Duomo on my final stroll back, I marveled at how I could appreciate it at night; the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore is lit up like its creators could have never imagined.

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