Saint Ursula

 While enjoying the collection at the Museo d'Arte Medievale, I came upon this gorgeous triptych of the legend of Saint Ursula.  Moments of the story are so poignantly captured here that I thought I would share this story of martyrdom.  Spoiler alert ~ it doesn't end well, as martyrdoms are wont. 

There exists no actual documentation of who she was, where she was born, etc.  There is only legend.  She was from Britain, and a princess, because her father was King Dionotus of Dumnonia in southwest Britain.  She was betrothed to a guy named Conan (in what is now France) who was a pagan.  So she set sail with 11,000 virginal handmaidens (again the obsession with virginity) to go and meet this guy.  There was a terrible storm at sea, but they made it to the coast miraculously.  There, she declared that before marrying Conan she would go on a pilgrimage across Europe and ultimately to Rome, to see the Pope.  Near Cologne, they were besieged by Huns (nomadic warriors known for their naughtiness and tendency to 'sack' places) and massacred.  

Here they are, traveling in their boat:

And the massacre... Ursula takes an arrow in the neck, which ends it for her:

And, of course, the whole notion of purity and faith, loyalty and courage, goes a long way in Christian dogma.  So much so, that commissioning yourself in a moment of martyrdom became somewhat fashionable.  See this painting of a wife and child as martyrs.  Arrow through the neck time:

It's pretty interesting.

Dark Ages? What are you talking about, Petrarch?

 Apparently, Petrarch never visited a large collection of medieval art.  Because if he had, he would know very well that there was nothing literally and/or figuratively "dark' about the 1100 years that mark the middle ages.  Come on, buddy.  Check out these colors and fabrics:

And in terms of the figurative 'darkness,' being that of some middle time that was not the Classical period of ancient Greece and Rome.  Like everyone in Europe was living under mushrooms with their thumbs stuck in their bellybuttons, eating their own poop.  Really.  The truth is that the medieval world was full of all things fab: education, theology, art, literature, poetry, architectural wonders!  Yeah, yeah, yeah... they go on and on about the glories of linear perspective and how it brought realism and naturalism to visual art.  But how can you resist the super-naturalism of medieval art?  With rotund faces, weird animals, groovy Jesus's just hanging there, peacocks, unicorns, angels....

All these wonders, plus zillions more, can be enjoyed at the Museo d'Arte Medievale in Arezzo!

Francesco Petrarch

 Petrarch was an Arretine, apparently.  And so was Giorgio Vasari.  Goodness.  The more I learn about Arezzo, the more impressed I am.  Petrarch was a very important early Renaissance scholar and poet.  He was highly educated, studying law at the University of Montpelier and the University of Bologna.  Boccaccio was a friend.  He was a writer, a Classicist, and his work Africa, a huge Latin poem that told the story of the Roman general Scipio Africanus, made him a star in Europe.  He traveled and lectured.  Being madly in love with the Classical world, and notable the work of Cicero, it was Petrarch who coined the term "the Dark Ages" as a moniker for the medieval era.  I guess we can forgive him for that because he did initiate humanist ideas and he was an awesome poet.

In Arezzo, you can visit his house (just close your eyes and imagine.... this building is built upon the spot where they think his house was, of course):

This exhibit is largely made up of a library of editions of Petrarch's work over the centuries.  Rooms and rooms of glorious old books.  When I was there, it was only me and a fellow geek who looked a lot like some worn-out academic.  Of course, I was fresh as a daisy :)

In April of 1327, Petrarch was following a calling to become a priest but this came to an abrupt end when he caught sight of a woman named "Laura," who was married.  Very much like the Dante/Beatrice story, he spends the rest of his life obsessed with her, writes many lyrical poems, and becomes the master of the sonnet.  The sonnet is a very cool poetic form in which a question, a situation, a problem, etc. is posed at the beginning and then worked out through the poem in very clever ways.  There may not be a definitive answer at the end, but there is movement... movement of thought, feeling, understanding.  Via poetry, or any other art, the individual employs intellect and emotion to ponder a dilemma.  It's humanism, darlings.

For example, here is Sonnet 227, which is about Laura:

Breeze, blowing that blonde curling hair,
stirring it, and being softly stirred in turn,
scattering that sweet gold about, then
gathering it, in a lovely knot of curls again,

you linger around bright eyes whose loving sting
pierces me so, till I feel it and weep,
and I wander searching for my treasure,
like a creature that often shies and kicks:

now I seem to find her, now I realise
she’s far away, now I’m comforted, now despair,
now longing for her, now truly seeing her.

Happy air, remain here with your
living rays: and you, clear running stream,
why can’t I exchange my path for yours?

In this, he addresses the wind, something from nature, of which he is very envious because it can get so intimately close to his love, Laura.  It can tousle her hair, touch her skin, and he cannot.  It is felt by eyes that don't see him, though he is in agony for just a glance.  Nothing he does can get him close to her.  But then he realizes that in his imagination, in his heart, he can get close... and that is his comfort.  Actually, in his art (poetry) he can get close.  So, in the end he tells the air, that has been captured in his poetry, that image for all eternity, stay here.  And then he addresses another thing from nature, a stream.  A CLEAR running stream.  Carefree, clear, moving on.  Again, envious.  Why can't I get over her?

And then there's Dante.  Even in HIS house, Petrarch can't move away from the comparison to Dante.  There are some marvelous Dante goodies here as well:

And after a lifetime of scholarship, unrequited love, endless poetry and horrible Latin lessons, apparently Petrarch just dropped dead at his desk:

Ugh.

Pieve di Santa Maria

 The Pieve (Parish) of Santa Maria is a fascinating church to visit!  It dates back to the 3rd century AD when it was actually outside the city walls.  Now it's well inside and it encapsulates many historical and aesthetic periods.  

Dating back to the Etruscan age is this well that was incorporated into the church and used as a baptismal fount.  

It's Etruscan, it's Romanesque, it's Gothic, it's totally my thing:

It houses a relic of San Donato.  He was born in Arezzo, was a Roman bishop during the 4th century and was martyred via decapitation under the Emperor Julian?  Chi sa?  His body is in a tomb in the Duomo, which I'll show you later.  But apparently his head is here.... that's some crazy good stuff:

Also wonderful is this triptych by Pietro Lorenzetti:

And this statue of Santa Lucia.  She is the patron saint of the blind and her martyrdom story is like many others: confused, varied, allegorical, and brutal.  There are several versions.  She was born in circa 283 in Syracuse, in the Roman empire.  Her father died when she was young which left she and her mother a bit vulnerable.  Somehow she gets wind of this Christian god idea and decides to devote her virginity (it's always that) to God.  Her mother, being pragmatic, arranges for Lucy to marry a wealthy Roman (re: pagan).  She refuses!  Her betrothed is tight with the governor of Syracuse, Paschasius, who decides to torture her by selling her to a brothel where she was apparently defiled repeatedly.  Quelle scumbag!  The Lucy has this vision that tells her Paschasius is going to be punished, humiliated and killed.  THIS inspires him to have her eyes gouged out so that she will never have any vision whatsoever.  

Here she is, with her eyes on a platter:

History is FULL of boys behaving badly....

Arezzo ~ Davvera bella!! (Truly beautiful)

 I must say, I'm quite stunned by the beauty and richness of this city.  But the more I learn about it, the more it makes sense.  Ah... that IS what learning is all about, no?  Arezzo was blessed at the beginning because it is situated at the junction of four fertile valleys, the Valdarno, Valdichiana, Valtiberina and Casentino.  It has been inhabited since the prehistoric age.  But the seriousness of GLORY begins when the city itself is founded by the Etruscans in the 6th century BC.  Its wealth was acquired through trade in luxury goods and agricultural produce, as well as the mineral deposits found in the hills.  

At the start of the 3rd century AD, like many cities in the interior of what was called Etrusca (now called Tuscany), Arezzo was forced to submit to Roman rule.  And you know, that is not all that bad because it enabled the city to become even more wealthy and important.  There are Etruscan and Roman ruins, there is the glory of the middle ages and the following centuries.  Che bella questa citta!!

Here is my street.  This is a 16th century palace of Earl Nocciolo (of hazelnut fame...just kidding).

My apartment is just to the right in that pale yellow tower.  It abuts the chapel of the palace.

 

Arezzo!

 Today my sister headed back to Rome and home tomorrow.  And thus, I move forward in my quest for fluency in italiano, starting with returning to Tuscany and the wee hill town of Arezzo.  It was a day of irritating issues, I must say.  My train, which I waited for for 2 hours, out of Bologna was late.  So late that I missed my connecting train in Florence.  Then I had to figure out how to get to Arezzo as a tag along on some other line.  Ugh.  Quelle wretchedness.  But my landlord was so cool about it all and met me at the station in Arezzo in her blue Fiat 500.   She drove me to the apartment through endless, winding alleys ... up up up the hill.  Churches, cats, piazzas, ancientness.  And then dropped me off at the 17th century building that is my apartment.  Up three flights of stairs.  No air con.  But really, so lovely:

And then I went for a stroll into the town.  Stopped at a fruit and vegetable shop, then a cheese and pasta guy.  It's not much, but it was just what I needed:

Sono stanca!  But tomorrow I begin the exploration!  Ciao, ragazzi!

A calm Sunday in Bologna

 Buona Domenica!  Sunday was a day of wandering around and enjoying the calm groove of the city.  It is a day for a long passegiatta, followed by a long pranzo, followed by a nap.  We decided to visit MAMba, the modern art museum.  Like the other museums we visited, it focuses on Bologna artists of the late 19th century to today.  I would actually call most of it contemporary art...and I would even go so far as to say there is some merde that somehow found favor in the curator's eye, but there was a wing dedicated to Bologna's own, Giogio Morandi, who did some interesting impressionist and post-impressionist stuff:

Notice how we tried to break down an image into simple forms.  His palette was mostly rich neutrals.  It's cool.  It reminds me of Cezanne's groove.

There was a room dedicated to revolution in art/society.  It included this huge painting featuring all the famous socialists of history.  The red is nice.  

And if you know your history, you can pick out some of the more well-known commies... like Lenin:

I'm a cake-eater, I must admit, so off to a ristorante for this girl:

A lunch of tortellini in brodo, prosciuto with melon, veal, and a cottoletta, all Bolognese specialties:

And then a long stroll back to the apartamento.  Enjoying the sights and sounds of the street happenings.  Perhaps only in Italia do you get this:

A presto!

Saturday market

 Italians refer to Bologna by three nicknames, as I stated in an earlier blog.  One of those names is "the fat one."  That refers to the cuisine of Bologna.  Being rather high in fats and demonstrating a real love of pork, Bolognese cuisine includes sauces that are thick and made creamy by the addition of milk and sometimes liver.  The cured meat of choice here is by far mortadella.  It is made with pork and fat, then mixed with things like pistachios or olives or just big pieces of lard.  The Americanized version of this is, of course, baloney.... that icky pink Oscar Meyer stuff.  The real thing looks like this:

Saturday means that long stretches of the old part of the city are pedestrian only and a wonderful open-air market happens, bringing in all sorts of goodies, like.... pig heads:

Cheeses and fishes:

Hunks of prosciutto and exquisite produce: 

And street food is tempting and so satisfying.  How about a mortadella sandwich with pistachio salsa and pecorino cheese?  With a Select Spritz, of course.  Hey, it's 10:30 am.... lunch time!

We walked over to the museum that had a large collection of Egyptian and Etruscan art.  Such beautiful things.  So much evidence of splendor and sophistication.  I mean, if these mummified cats are any indication.....

I can really dig the impulse!

Anyway, then on to the civic museum of the medieval world, namely Bologna in the middle ages.  Gorgeousness.  

They were having this provocative exhibit in the cloister.  So fab:

At the end of the day.... I was feeling very: