Archives for posts with tag: Michelangelo

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August holidays: and we went backpacking with the children to Italy, taking only what we could carry in our rucksacks we headed off for Rome, the Bay of Naples and Florence.

I’ve a kaleidoscope of impressions of age, grandness and decay. The English romantics went to see Rome’s glorious decay in the eighteenth century and 300 years later, it has progressed further. It was a shock to wander out of our apartment and look down our street to see mammoth pillars that are 2000 years old at The Forum and to marvel at how enormous they actually are. We rushed off to see the Sistine Chapel suitably attired as men, women and children have to cover their knees and shoulders. It was very sweet to see Isabel, aged 8, in one of my skirts. As we stood in the queue being harassed by touts, the realisation hit us that it really was a four-hour wait in the baking sun. It was a bitter pill to accept but I had to admit defeat and that I wouldn’t be able to see Michelangelo’s paintings. Water fountains are situated through the city and run with fresh water, courtesy of the Romans, so we cooled down and found a street cafe to eat delicious pizza which brought back the sense of contentment. I gloried in the colours and drama, graffiti and mess of this crazy city although Isabel took one look at the Colosseum and dismissed it, “It’s broken.”

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I walked into Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence and was admiring Michelangelo’s slaves when there he was. I was caught unaware and there was the incredible sculpture of David larger than life and towering over the crowds. After seeing so many reproductions and crass interpretations, the real thing took my breath away – it was a ‘wow’ moment. Many images of David have been depicted of when he is victorious and has slain Goliath – this one is different, it is the moment before. David’s hands are clenched and the tension is there in his body, in his watchful eyes, in his neck and in his veins. This is his moment and he can take it, he is at the cusp of the decision which would change him and he could choose to grab that moment, throw that sling and kill Goliath or let the opportunity pass him by. The man is not yet victorious, not yet sure of the outcome, he doesn’t know the end of the story even if we do. He can only choose to trust his God and the meagre tools that he has been given. He has been anointed a king but it is still a promise and not yet a reality. What will he do?

About this post: My 2014 resolution is to visit a creative place every month.
January – The Ashmolean: Malcolm Morley
February – Oxford School of Photography
March – The Ashmolean: Cézanne and the modern

April – The Jam Factory
May – Art in Ardington
June – On Form exhibition
July – Crossing Borders