I may not return to Florence until I am reincarnated as one of the city's sidewalk chalk artists, so while lunch was nice, my day trip was really just a surgical strike into the Uffizi Gallery.
Two things every first-time visitor should know: 1) The museum gave up its no-photography policy in 2014 and 2) If you reserved tickets online, you can pick them up directly across the street from where the "No. 1" sign is below. There you will find a booth designated as "No. 3." Hand them your email printout and proceed to the No. 1 line. I was not asked for ID.
The more I look at Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" (1486) and the more I read about it, the more mysterious it becomes. None of it makes sense. I do not possess the cognitive power or imagination to conceive how a person in the 15th century would have received this painting, and that's what I really want to know.
But I am pretty sure Botticelli would be gratified to know that teenagers 500 years later gasp with delight when they walk through Rooms 9 through 15. That counts for a lot.
There is a quiet intelligence (and sly irony) in the Uffizi's room arrangements, as if the museum's exhibit designers want to lay bare the chasm between Florentine and Northern European conceptions of early Christianity. Probably just an honest attempt to contextualize the debt each owed to the other, but the idea of a bare Florentine bosom sharing the same room as a Hugo Van Der Goes altarpiece — maybe for the next 100 years ― makes me smile.
Such an honor to finally see the octagonal Tribunal room, where the Medici Venus holds court at center.
Mark Twain called this room "the smallest gallery most visited in the world," and the Mannerist portraits hanging on the walls, by Bronzino and Perugino, among others, influenced Raphael and Michelangelo. So say the guidebooks; I am out of my depth.
Johann Zoffany, the German painter, had a bit of fun in his historically dense re-imagining of the room in 1772, below.
For La Tribuna completists among you ― and you know who you are ― I think I've captured it all.
Thomas Aquinas, right, makes a cameo in Giovanni di Paolo's "Madonna and Child" (1445).
Roman sarcophagi.
World's most heart-pounding arrow.
So I spent a good seven and a half minutes with Leonardo's "Annunciation" and have concluded that he's an atheist going with the flow. I can rest now.
The master's unfinished "Adoration of the Magi"
A great big shout-out to my fellow museum goers. They were being shushed by the attendants all day but are just interested and excited to be here.
At closing time, we are all this girl.
From right, the Galileo Museum, the Uffizi Gallery, the Vasari Corridor and the Ponte Vecchio.
Two things every first-time visitor should know: 1) The museum gave up its no-photography policy in 2014 and 2) If you reserved tickets online, you can pick them up directly across the street from where the "No. 1" sign is below. There you will find a booth designated as "No. 3." Hand them your email printout and proceed to the No. 1 line. I was not asked for ID.
The more I look at Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" (1486) and the more I read about it, the more mysterious it becomes. None of it makes sense. I do not possess the cognitive power or imagination to conceive how a person in the 15th century would have received this painting, and that's what I really want to know.
But I am pretty sure Botticelli would be gratified to know that teenagers 500 years later gasp with delight when they walk through Rooms 9 through 15. That counts for a lot.
Botticelli's "Spring" (1480). |
Detail from Van Der Goes' "Adoration of the Shepherds" (1476). |
Mark Twain called this room "the smallest gallery most visited in the world," and the Mannerist portraits hanging on the walls, by Bronzino and Perugino, among others, influenced Raphael and Michelangelo. So say the guidebooks; I am out of my depth.
Johann Zoffany, the German painter, had a bit of fun in his historically dense re-imagining of the room in 1772, below.
For La Tribuna completists among you ― and you know who you are ― I think I've captured it all.
Thomas Aquinas, right, makes a cameo in Giovanni di Paolo's "Madonna and Child" (1445).
Roman sarcophagi.
World's most heart-pounding arrow.
So I spent a good seven and a half minutes with Leonardo's "Annunciation" and have concluded that he's an atheist going with the flow. I can rest now.
The master's unfinished "Adoration of the Magi"
A great big shout-out to my fellow museum goers. They were being shushed by the attendants all day but are just interested and excited to be here.
Outstanding yo-yo game from this chap. |
At closing time, we are all this girl.
From right, the Galileo Museum, the Uffizi Gallery, the Vasari Corridor and the Ponte Vecchio.
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