Two Nights in Florence: A Lifetime

Every angle has been explored. I feel this statement most definitely as a writer and a reader. When I sit down at my computer, or when I clasp my journal– pen in hand– it is sometimes hard to portray something in a way no one has ever seen. It is as if every angle has been explored. That is until I see myself peering into paintings, faces of statues, and strangers, hoping to find a glimpse of myself in everything around me. Maybe, even a glimpse of the woman I wish to become or the woman I am becoming. I walk the crowded streets, energy coursing through my veins, feeling compelled to stop as the people flow around me as I stare up at the vast nothing that seems to exist even here in Florence, Italy.

The stones are uneven beneath my feet as I stumble along, despite the growing blisters I now have on my feet. Tents upon tents, vibrant leather goods and precious jewels, desperation exuding from vendors all fighting for the same thing– to be seen. Toward the end of the market street, a small set up of brilliantly hued paintings sit on display for all to marvel at as they pass by. An older man, sits in the presence of his work, looking very eccentric. He wears rounded glasses, (well that is not entirely true as one side of his paint-splattered frames was actually squared). His tattered, faded orange shirt, tells stories of years of art on this street. He has one hand, and yet, endless creations surround him. Devotion to art has long since ruled much of my everyday life. I live to create, to read, to breathe in each day as if it were new because it is after all. But, as I wandered aimlessly through the bustling city of Florence I felt lost. I felt like everything was so new it was old. That I had been here and done this all. Like I was somehow remembering something new. Being lost in so much newness that humanity seemed to slip through my very fingers. I stood in front of his displays and felt tears behind my eyes. Unexpected, but not unusual of me to be this moved by art. Yet, I felt a shift in Florence. This art was created with the intention of putting lifelong experiences and perspective, onto a blank canvas meant for a stranger. How intimate? To pour yourself into something only to give it away.

My dear friend Celia who accompanied me had decided to purchase one of his works. I felt a sense of relief that she had chosen this man to support because his passion was so apparent it practically washed away all vendors we had passed by previously. His work was not commercialized, nor was it in resemblance to anything I had seen before. His canvases were piled atop each other as if tied together by family. All of them were made with the same delicate brushstrokes other stands lacked. As we chatted with the man, Stefano was his name, he told us about his process of creating each of his pieces. He smiled with youthfulness, which I often feel I sometimes lack, and gestured us to the side of the display so he could write a dedication on the back of the canvas for his new buyer Celia. As he asked several questions, I was enlisted to help hold one side of the painting as he packaged it gently with his one hand. He snapped a photo of the three of us (painting included), blissful and renewed, and we said our goodbyes. Florence had seemed to be turned on its side now.

I continued my walk, with fresh eyes, through my foreign surroundings and found myself standing in the Piazza della Signoria. The surrounding statues of the piazza seemed to envelop any distractions the hoards of tourists brought and kept my attention solely on their starkness. The marble hands that reached out and graced the air seemed to have the same effect, their emotions dripping down onto the street below them, forever peering out at those who peer at them. This energy, of either history or art, or both, left me feeling brand new. Perhaps, not every angle has been explored after all, and all it takes is a piece of something genuine to change that.

“Utilizzo colori e materiali diversi per esprimere tutto ciò che c è di bello intorno a noi”

“I use different colors and materials to express all that is beautiful around us” – Stefano Zellini

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One Response to Two Nights in Florence: A Lifetime

  1. Prof VZ June 4, 2023 at 3:33 pm #

    I really like this! The theme of old/new, and wrestling with that feeling of new-overload, the sense in which we’re exposed to so much that is new, and yet, it’s also new for everyone, and that sense of novelty seems packaged and for sale, and that experience makes it seem sort of worn out. A worn out newness, a tired newness. And then, you find a place for the genuine in a nicely rendered human interaction (you might even go into more detail on how he re-did the painting, how excited he was to sell one). The final scene is also lovely as you see things again with fresh eyes, having been given this through a more genuine interaction.

    Do your best to expand some of those particulars with your “character.” Also, work on refining and clarifying and deepening your work with the old/new at the start. Break some longer paragraphs in two, and maybe incorporate an image earlier. You might also include an image of the artist. And maybe get the name of that statue you meditate on in the end–it might take some research, but it would help!

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