Marble Statues and People Watching Sketches

Santa Croce Statue, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

This is a lovely carving that captured my imagination at the Santa Croce church in Florence.  It was located in an outside portico area, over a sarcophagus.  I didn’t get nearly as finished as I would like, because a thunderstorm erupted over the sky and the church decided to kick everyone out.  Nevertheless, I am sharing it with you in its unfinished state.

I thought I would share these rough sketches, made in front of the Uffizi Museum.  A friend and I went there to sketch the graceful and monumental statues, but after an hour or so of drawing the statues I was distracted by all the fascinating people crowding the piazza–tourists and locals.  Here are a few of the sketches I was able to do of them.  It is difficult and challenging, drawing in a crowd, because unlike statues people move often.  It becomes a game to capture their gestures.  

Florence people watching sketch 1, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

Florence people watching sketch 2, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

Completed Portrait of Julia; Last Days in Florence

Portrait of Julia, oil on canvas, 55 cm by 70cm, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

This weekend was bittersweet—the sense of satisfaction that comes with completing a painting and the prospect of returning home, but also the thought of all that I would leave here in Florence.  The European feel of the city, the sense of the great master artists who have left their mark on everything,  watching the sunsets from the cliffs of Piazza Michelangelo, the solid training of the school, the possibilities that anything really can happen, the gothic grandeur of the churches, and most of all the dear friends I will leave here. 

       The last day of class we were all putting the finishing touches on our paintings, and there was a general air of excitement and laughter as we painted.  All in all, everyone seemed happy with his or her paintings.  The method of training that the Florence Academy of Art specializes in pulls an artistry out of you that you didn’t know you had.  Truly, nearly everyone’s portraits looked soft and life-like, and beautiful to look on.

Portrait class on the last day

  My model, Julia, posed for a picture with me and the girl I shared a studio with for the month. 

Vanessa (left), Julia (center, the model we both painted), and I on the last day of class

The rest of the weekend mostly consisted of the girlfriends I made here and I sketching the sculptures and paintings, listening to the musicians on the streets in the evening, and just soaking in Florence as much as possible before our planes took us back to our various countries.   The city here is vivid; in the colors, music, people, the depth of art, and its energy.  It will remain so in my mind; and even though I may have left Florence, Florence will never leave me.

In Front of the Uffizi Museum

Florence

    Back in the USA, I am getting geared up for finishing a large mural, and also for an upcoming show at the Eden Boheme in Charleston, SC.   I will keep you informed as to projects coming up.  I am excited to be back even though I will miss the training in Florence.  But after being away for so long, there is no place like home.  I am glad to be back.

Inside the Pitti Palace, Modern Gallery

Yesterday part of our class went to see the Pitti Palace, where the Medicis made their home.  It is an incredibly huge mansion, opulently decorated with carvings and trompe l’oil (that fool the eyes because they look so real) paintings.  The ballrooms also were fantastic.  Our tour guide said they sometimes do hold parties in them—formal, of course—and that she has attended several.  They look like something that belongs in a fairy tale.

One of the many ballrooms in the Pitti Palace

This was by far my favorite gallery visit.  We visited the modern section of the Pitti Palace Museum, which only goes up to the early 1900s.  There were so many paintings that stopped you in your tracks and pulled you into them; each in their own way.  And after this trip I notice sculpture more, having seen several that are moving in a way that paintings cannot be—they have a physical presence, and if done well enough by the artist look like they could come alive at any moment.  One such sculpture was “The Dying Abel” by Giovanni Dupre, an extremely dramatic and expressive figure in deep bronze, yet beautiful even for its dark subject.

The Dying Abel, by Dupre

    There was another room just full of French and Italian Impressionist paintings, and it was like walking into a room full of light.  After so many dark and mysterious paintings these seemed to exult in the joy of life, casting aside mystery and depth in favor of simpler things.  In many of the portraits in these Impressionist rooms, the models smiled and looked right at the viewer.  One painting I liked in particular was Iridescenze Della Madreperla (Mother of Pearl Irridescences) by Filadelfo Simi.  The colors are subtle and the mood is light, and the painter explains the form of the girl with the slightest changes in paint temperature and not too much detail in the brushstrokes.

Mother of Pearl Iridescence, by Simi

         Another painter whose work I really enjoyed seeing was Franz Lenbach.  His use of shadowy darkness, glowing skin tones and smoky sfumato make you look twice at his portraits.  I like the ethereal quality of the light in every one of his paintings.

Franz Lenbach

Franz Lenbach

Franz Lenbach

 A portrait painter whose work I was drawn to was Giovanni Boldini.  His strokes look light and sure, and every piece of his possesses grace.  He painted many of the women in high society during Victorian times.  It seems no coincidence that the more you flatter your subject, the more popular you are as a commission painter…nevertheless, all of his paintings are delicate and pretty.

Giovanni Boldini

Giovanni Boldini

    The most memorable of all the pieces I saw during this visit was without a doubt Antonio Ciseri’s Ecce Homo. It fills an entire wall, with figures nearly life-size.  Ecce Homo are the Latin words used by Pontius Pilate in the Vulgate translation of John 19:25, after scourging Christ and presenting Him to the crowd—in English, is means “Behold the Man”.  Many artists have painted the same scene: Titian, Caravaggio, Bosch, and Tintoretto, to name a few, all of them with the same name.  To me, Ciseri’s version of the scene seems the most realistic.  The composition is incredibly powerful, as is the subject matter.  Anyone entering the room cannot help but stand before this painting in awe.

Ecce Homo by Antonio Ciseri

A few things to notice—how most of the action in the painting is going on in half-light, setting up a dramatic contrast to the bright sky. Also, how nearly everything in the background seems to point to Christ—the slash of light across the creamy buildings, the spirals on the column, and obviously Pilate’s arm.  I wish everyone could see this masterpiece in person—it is nearly photographic in quality, and indescribably powerful.

And tomorrow…last weekend in Florence, last day of class and a glimpse of the final version of my portrait!

Rome–Part II

The next day dawning in Rome, we girls took our breakfast on the top floor of the hotel (tip—hotels are cheaper the more people you go with!)  From there we sipped our cappuccinos and looked out the glass walls over the city waking up.

Coffee in Rome

 

       The most exciting things we did that day were to hire a student guide to take us inside the Colosseum and inside the ruins of Rome, and explain to us everything we saw.  We learned much, and most importantly we got to skip the mile-long line to get into the Colosseum.  The building of the Colosseum was apparently more of a political move than anything else; giving the people something to amuse and tire them so that they would not have the energy to think about politics.  Its construction is one of the Seven Wonders of the World, started under Vespacian and finished under his son Titus.

Inside the Colosseum

 

There is a second floor to the Colosseum that you can climb up to on steep, stone steps sloping downwards, where the masses of people hold onto the railings for dear life.  It is funny, how the Colosseum was built thousands of years ago (72 AD) yet still people flock inside to see it.  Looking inside is fascinating—you can see all the passageways where the gladiators would wait for their turn, the places where the prisoners and animals were kept. 

      I actually liked the ruins of old Rome better; there were less people and the arcitecture even more stunning than the Colosseum, I thought, if there had been more of it left.  The guide took us all through the ruins; the slave houses, the politicians houses, the Basilica of Amelia (a bank where a great fire left their coins fused to the stone floor), the Temple of the Divine Romulai (where huge, beautiful doors of green bronze still lock, with a key that still works),

Romulai Bronze doors, still in working order

 the House of the Vestal Virgins (where women 6 to 40 years of age served to keep the fire of Rome burning, the highest job a woman could hold in Roman times.  She could own land, the rulers bowed to her, and she was showed the highest respect—however, if the fire of Rome were to go out on her watch, she was buried alive), and the Basilica of Constantine.  The Basilica of Constantine was massive, although there is only half of it still standing.  It looked very much like the inside of a train station in Philadelphia to me.  The front had a niche in it large enough to house a statue of Constantine with just its head taller than a full grown man, and the rest of its body proportioned correctly.  In fact, all that is left of that statue is the head of it, and can also be seen in Italy although we did not have enough time.

 

Basilica of Constantine

 

       It was amazing walking those streets in the dazzling sunlight, trying to finish with your imagination what the ruins must have been like when they were a city.  The remains of the city dwarf you, and even though they are but ruins, it makes you feel very small.  In its heyday Rome must have been spectacular.  The people then were very intelligent, accomplished, and barbaric, it seems.  The stories, architecture, art, and culture reflect a culture that was amazingly accomplished and appreciative of high forms of beauty, but that could also be incredibly cruel.

     We saw an artist painting the Colosseum while there—I don’t know his name or what other work he does, but I was very impressed with his work.  I told him to keep going.

Artist at the Colosseum

 

   After climbing another monument to Victor Emmanuel the II, the first king of Italy, I was ready for Florence again.  

Looking over Rome

Florence has a familiarity now that I like; it is an artist’s town, unlike Rome, with people who are friendlier, streets that feel safer, and the lights on the river that glow with a soft romance.  After Rome, Florence felt like home.  It was good to be back.

 

Back in Florence

 

     As for the portrait, I will wait until the last day to post the final stage.  However, I will leave you with a twenty minute oil sketch of a girl from class.  Come back soon for final museum visits here, pictures of the portrait at last, etc.  Until next time!

Lavender Girl, oil on canvas, 8" by 6", copyright Jessica Libor 2009

Rome, Part I

 

In front of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome

 

I went to Rome this weekend.  It has a whole different feeling than Florence—it’s bigger, much older, with a sense of monumental ages resting upon the city.  It seems to have reached its zenith during the Roman times, and now rests in the glory of its past.  I say this because of the way that it seems the whole commerce there depends on tourists—and for good reason!  There is much to see, an overwhelming amount of architecture and art, and the ruins of a great civilization lay all around you.

I went with four of the girls taking summer courses who were just as curious as I was about Rome and all the sights to see there.  The train ride from Florence to Rome was immensely enjoyable; I think there is nothing so relaxing as watching the Tuscany landscape fly by while listening to good music. 

Italy's countryside from the train window

There is something so exciting about trains—the anticipation of arrival, the feeling of getting nearer and nearer to someplace exciting.  Below are a few of the sketches I did on the long ride there.

Debonaire sketch--copyright Jessica Libor 2009

Countryside sketches--copyright Jessica Libor 2009

After arriving and finding our hotel, we took a short walk to see the Trevi fountain right behind where we were staying.  It was bigger and more spectacular than the pictures do it justice—flowing, sculpturesque, with Neptune and his mermen looking like they really were moving through the water, so carefully are the clothing and hair sculpted.  They look so effortlessly real, their clothes in the right shape as if you were seeing them underwater.  The more I see and study art, the more convinced I am that the pieces that are truly effortless in their beauty are the ones that took the most time and diligence to create, in order to appear lifelike.

Trevi Fountain

      We had one awful moment–we arrived just a half an hour late to see the Sistine Chapel! I tried not to think about how disappointed I was—to fly all the way to Italy, and miss it by thirty minutes.  However, it’s of no use to ruin the day over it, and indeed we had an amazing rest of that day and night.  The Basilica of Saint Peter was truly awe-inspiring.  Words really cannot describe that building, and pictures cannot create the aura of peace and holiness you feel when you step inside.  The place is huge, and very quiet, except for the soft murmur of people marveling at the paintings, mosaics, sculptures and architecture, and of people praying to the right and left on the pews.  The most golden light streams through the stained glass at the very front, surrounded by beautifully twisting figures done over in gold all around it in a great cloud.  A choir’s voices sang soft and pure in the air as we walked through the sunlit passages.

Inside the Basilica of St. Peter

The guards outside of the Basilica of St. Peter have the most fantastic uniforms–more like costumes.  Check it out.

Guards at Basilica of St. Peter

Michelangelo’s Pieta was there, immediately to the right when you walk in.  Though it is beautifully done, it is smaller than I expected.  We did not get to see the Vatican City Museum because it was closed, though apparently it is the world’s largest storehouse of art.  If you were to stop and look at each piece of art for ten seconds, you would be there for seven and a half years. 

         On the way out, I was struck by some huge ads plastered on the sides of a huge building to the right of St. Peters.  I believe they are advertisements for an Italian wind-powered energy company, but I liked the artistry of the photography and the treatment of the kernels of wheat as glowing sources of energy.  Beauty is simply beauty, no matter it be a cheap ad on the side of a building, or the timeless sculptures of Michelangelo.

We also saw the Pantheon that day, and after a lovely alfresco dinner began our explorations of the city by night.  The ruins of Rome take on a magnificent, theatrical effect after nightfall, lit by golden and brilliant blue-violet lights.  Street musician’s voices carry plaintively over the broken temples and arches.  The whole experience of exploring the ruins by night felt very ageless and more than a bit eerie.  The arch of Constantine and the Colosseum were spectacular by night.

Ruins of Rome by night

Colosseum by night

 

 

    On the way back, picking our way through the ruins, we came across the well lit old theatre of Rome, where I believe Caesar was assassinated.  There was a play going on there that night, Julius Caesar.  We arrived just in time to see half a dozen passionate actors in togas stab Julius Caesar.

Julius Caesar--in the old Roman theatre

We were thrilled to come upon so authentic a production—the acting seemed superb, though the entire play was in Italian.  All the same, were were glad to have found that gem of a theatre that night.  We watched among the columns underneath the bright stars, and heard far away choirs and an opera singer trilling into the night.

And tomorrow, part two of a report on Rome… a guided tour of the Colosseum and Forum, walk by the river, an update on the portrait…

Michelangelo’s David

Yesterday I had the awesome experience of seeing five of Michelangelo’s works, one of which was the David.  I walked into the Academia—the museum and art school where he is kept—and saw him at the end of a long corridor, looking perfect and majestic and way better than in the pictures.  The pictures don’t do the sculpture justice—they can’t capture the feeling of immense presence and power that the sculpture conveys, the delicate modeling in  his hands, the purity of profile, the perfection and magnitude of it. 

And lining the hall that leads up to the David, four of Michelangelo’s unfinished “Slave Sculptures”, which look like giants fighting their way out of the stone blocks—but not yet fully revealed.  Michelangelo’s theory of sculpting was that when he saw a block of stone, he would see the figure inside of it, waiting to be released.  It was his job, he believed, to chip away the stone and reveal what was already inside.

Michaelangelo's unfinished Atlas Slave

 

       David has an interesting history.  He just recently turned 500 years old, and the Academia held a party in his honor with everyone important in art invited in the city of Florence.  They put a crown of flowers on his head for the occasion, as the rulers of Florence did when David was first presented to the city 500 years before. 

     Recently, art historians have done research on David, and found through careful study of the statue the kinds of stonecutter’s tools that Michelangelo used.  Turns out that Michelangelo was left-handed.

     Also fascinating is the fact that once David’s arm completely fell off.  This was towards the beginning of his history, when the Medicis were in power.  There were riots in the streets that were very violent in that time, and because of the crowds one summer his arm fell of –and killed a man beneath him!  The story is recorded by historians of that time that the crowds were so thick that they could not get at his stony arm for three days because of the riots.

       Michelangelo worked on David for four years, out of a piece of marble that was deemed “unuseable” by all the other artists in the city.  However, Michelangelo saw inside that block of marble a figure waiting to be released, and he went on to create one of  the most iconic and important sculptures in all the history of art. 

      As an artist, I can learn from this…it’s not the materials you use, it is what you do with them.

     And tomorrow…Rome!  Come back soon for a full report.

Craftsmanship in Leather

   I bought a beautiful discounted leather sketch journal last week.  It is just calling out to be written and sketched in.  Drawing in something so beautifully crafted inspires you to make what is inside of the book match the outside. 

      The craftsman who made all of the leather goods in the store had his workbench in the back of the store, and I watched him rub out the leather with dark wax and pattern it with gold leaf.  It was pretty interesting, and definitely highly specialized.  It looked a whole art unto itself.  

The possibilities of a new sketchbook...what will it hold?

Techniques, Museums, Raeburn and Ideas…

As an overview of the techniques I have learned thus far, I can only touch on the vast amount of information emptied into my mind these last few weeks here in Italy.  The teachers have been absolutely fantastic, and very encouraging.  This part I am purposefully making technical, so that the artists that follow this blog can be helped in their painting methods, as I surely was.

       This structured method of painting has order to it, so that instead of randomly applying brown and tan to make the skin appear luminous in a portrait, we were able to discover the rich pigments that make a portrait look like real skintone.  These basic colors are black (yes, black!) raw umber (for the background at first) vermillion, yellow ochre, cobalt, and white.    From mixing these pigments with each other (black and vermillion: dark red; black and yellow ochre: olive green; vermillion and yellow ochre for peach, vermillion and cobalt for violet –used around the eyes, in shadows, etc.)

    And the white to lighten the tones.  Naples Yellow, a very light yellow, for some highlights.

As for the painting method itself…it is the same essentially as was taught by Carolus-Duran, who was John Singer Sargent’s teacher.

Carolus Duran, painted by John Singer Sargeant

 

A firsthand account of the method taught at his atelier:

“We were supposed to mix to or three gradations of yellow ochre with white, two of light red with white, two of cobalt with white, and also of black and raw umber to facilitate the choice of tones.

We were not allowed any small brushes, at any rate not for a long time—many months or years.

On Tuesday Duran came to criticize and correct the drawing, or the laying in of painting if it was sufficiently advanced. We blocked in the curtain first, and then put in the figure or face in big touches like a coarse wooden head hewn with a hatchet; in fact, in a big mosaic, not bothering to soften things down, but to get the right amount of light and the proper colour, attending first to the highest light. The hair was not smoothed into the flesh at first, but just pasted on in the right tone like a coarse wig; then other touches were placed on the junctions of the big mosaic touches, to model them and make the flesh more supple.

"Lilia" by Carolus Durand, John Singer-Sargeant's teacher

Of course these touches were a gradation between the touches they modelled. All was solid, and there were no gradations by brushing the stuff off the lights gently into the darks or vice versa, because Duran wished us to actually make and match each bit of the tone of the surface. He came again on Friday to criticise and on that day we finished off.”

A basic method of painting a portrait, step by step:

1. Look for the big shapes, big proportions, major references, and inclinations.

2. Look for the shadow lines, the basic shadow shapes, and introduce light value inside shadow shapes.

3.  Introduce background value to isolate the light shapes.  Take a good look at your proportions at this point.

4.  Refine your outline contour and shadow line

Up until this point, you should just be painting lightly over your canvas with a sturdy sable brush, using a midtone value to do a drawing in paint on your canvas.  Now, comes the time to start using your palette and your paints in earnest…

1. Paint in your darkest darks as you see them, but don’t exaggerate.
2. Visualize and indicate the darkest halftones throughout the cast.
3. Map the drawing with simplified half tones—dark, middle, and light half tones.
4. Put in your lightest lights.

Lastly, comes the study of the forms, the final stages.  A knowledge of basic anatomy and proportions of the head is useful here, even if the model is sitting in front of you.

1. Key the edges—sharp and soft.  Focus sharp on your focal point.
2. Make transitions in value smooth.
3. Make sure your light is unified.
4. Sign your painting!!

These are just the basics.  I jotted down much more, which I will share with you another time—tips and tricks of the trade useful for each step.

One artist whose work was introduced to me  through a slide show yesterday was Sir Henry Raeburn (1756-1823), a Scottish painter and knight.  He painted many important people of his native country Scotland, and his portraits number over 700!  His work is distinguished by forcefulness, technical finesse, and a very direct approach without preliminary drawings (as I tend towards the direct approach myself, I like that about him!)  But his portraits are gorgeous, as you can see.  Having been to the National Gallery of Scotland last summer, I probably saw some of his work without knowing it.

 

by Sir Henry Raeburn

by Raeburn

A friend and I also visited the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibition in town—not of his paintings, but of his machines, 40 of them built just as he said to in his many notebooks.  It was an interactive exhibit, and we could see how each machine worked.  They all seemed so simple once you realized what was going on, but something I would have never thought of.  We both left feeling relatively unintelligent but enlightened by such a mind ahead of his time.  One machine was particularly fascinating—it had all the appearances of a near-perpetual motion machine, simply needing a tiny push at the start.

There is so much I am learning and seeing every day here that I could go on trying to share it all!  Suffice to say that every single day I walk down the street in amazement, each street a museum.

One word I wanted to say—this is an art blog; simply about my artistic experiences and updates about happenings involving my or my friend’s work.  This is not an all-encompassing journal of everything in my life—for art is not my life, it is but a part of the whole picture.  Life for me is for the glory of God by enjoying His presence, the helping of others, and hopefully the revealing of God’s beauty through the medium of art.  I have found friends here and an amazing church, and had many experiences unrelated to my career.  However, as this is simply an artist blog, I just share the artistic things I have learned. If I didn’t limit myself, I would love to tell you about the friends I have made, the shops, my church, the people, the coffee (amazing!! It’s cured me of Starbucks forever) the music along the Ponte Vecchio each night…

    But, alas, being professional is so limiting.  So most of the content in this artist blog will be about…art.

Speaking of which…I’ve had a few ideas for paintings to try when I return home, which I sketched today in the studio.  Looking forward to turning an idea into reality.  That’s the magic in it, isn’t it?  As my teacher here, Maureen Hyde, said today, “Painting is the balance of revelation and mystery.”  I like that.

 

Scotland Sketch, Copyright Jessica Libor 2009

 

Young Girl in Thicket Sketch, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

 

Equestrian Sketch, copyright Jessica Libor 2009

Work in Progress

In the afternoon part of the day, outside class, I am working on various painting pursuits of my own, which I will be sharing with you also.  This work in progress is a portrait I am working on under the loose guidance of a few instructors when they happen to pass by in the afternoon.  Here is the first…

 

"Leigh" (unfinished), 8" by 10", oil on canvas, copyright 2009 Jessica Libor

Soon to come: new techniques in painting, visit to the museum of Leonardo Da Vinci’s constructed machines, the work of an incredible Scottish painter, and the painting in progress of a landscape…

Until then, arrivederci!

The Uffizi

Today was an early morning visit with my classmates to the Uffizi Museum, one of the greatest museums in the world.  Usually getting up super early on Saturday is not something I do with enthusiasm, but seeing this definitely provided the motivation.

    We got to see with our own eyes the Birth of Venus and Primavera by Botticelli, who apparently studied under Verrochio at the same time as Leonardo da Vinci.  It is pretty interesting, I think, that although Verrochio is not as well-known as his pupils, he trained some of the finest artists in history thus far.  A good teacher makes all the difference.

    Some of the things I jotted down while listening to the art historian, random symbolism and bits of history I thought fascinating:

        “Sfumato” means “to go up in smoke” in Italian, and means to blend your paint so that it blurs the image or the edge.  This produces a lovely soft, ethereal effect.  Leonardo Da Vinci used this alot, a reason his paintings look so mysterious.

Sfumato effect by Leonardo

        In paintings depicting the baby Jesus, many artists depicted a bird nearby.  The bird is the symbol of the soul, and nourishes itself on thorns.  It is a symbol of the passion of the Christ to come later.

       Standing before the Primavera and Birth of Venus was pretty cool—they are much bigger works than I expected them to be.  Huge, actually, about as tall as a man, and at least double in length.  They are beautifully crafted, very cleanly executed it seems, as the edges can sometimes still be seen beneath the paint.  I remember learning about these and seeing pictures of them in textbooks.  Isn’t it beautiful?  I like the treatment of the hair here…

Detail from Birth of Venus, by Botticelli

In Primavera (or, Springtime), there was recently some research done on it, and apparently Botticelli made the springtime flowers in the grove so clear and easy to identify that botanists confirmed that each of the plants represented in the painting did indeed blossom in the Florence spring.  Also, I never noticed the little cupid at the top who is blindfolded, representing the idea that love is blind.

Primavera by Botticelli

         Another interesting fact about the Uffizi building—the Medici family, patrons of the arts in Florence, worked there and used it as a gallery.  At one time the most prominent, powerful Medici couple, newly married, had a passage called the Vasari Passage built that goes from the Uffizi museum, over the picturesque Ponte Vecchio bridge,  and over buildings through secret passageways all the way to the Boboli gardens and Pitti Palace, where they lived.

The Vasari Corridor--an ancient walkway above the water

This was so that these elegant nobles and ladies did not have to go through the streets with the commoners.  They then decreed that the merchants on the bridge below that passageway only be goldsmiths, so that they would not have to endure the smells of butcher and food shops rising up into the passageway.  And that is why, today, only fine goldsmiths sell their work on the Ponte Vecchio bridge.

      I also had the experience of seeing the original Venus of Urbino by Tiziano Vecellio, Caravaggio’s Head of Medusa (I actually gave a little shriek of surprise when I turned around and saw this one! It is painted on a convex shield, so it looks as if it is coming out at you.)

The Head of Medusa, by Caravaggio

 Many other of Carrivagio’s works were there, and I also really liked Gherardo Delle Notti’s works on display full of dramatic lighting, Supper With a Lute Player and Wedding Feast.  

 

Supper With a Lute Player

 

      The Uffizi has endless rooms full of priceless art.  I was in there a long time, and I must confess emerged into the sunlight blinking and stepping back into my own century.  I was a bit overwhelmed by it—when you see so much in just a day, each masterpiece you see begins to look like the next.  Most very detailed and beautiful.  I was struck by the odd combinations of the political struggles and religious beliefs combined in the paintings; for instance rulers in the Medici family commissioning a work of the birth of Christ and requesting to be painted in as the three wise men, etc.  Each piece seems shrouded in mystery and drama, and has some rich story behind it, lived out hundreds of years ago by real people who walked those same halls.

      I walked out exhausted by all that priceless beauty.  It seems like it is a temptation for the artist in centuries to unknowlingly fall into the worship of the creation of beauty, rather than worshipping the Creator from which all beauty comes, and is the only source of real peace and everlasting beauty.  These great works of art by man will eventually turn to dust, but until time is done God’s beauty falls on us everywhere—the stars, each sunset, the dagger of each lightening stroke in a storm, each new life. 

      But I walked out enriched, not disheartened.  Even though it seems sometimes that the best of art has already been created, each of us is here with a purpose and with something to give, art aside.