Three Little Birds

 

A lovely thing happened on my first October 2024 morning in Florence, a city my love and I first visited in 1995. My small hotel was immediately adjacent to Duomo Square, and I hugged its perimeter as I followed my carefully researched route to Conad for a few grocery basics. I don't know whether I actually followed my route or just my nose, but I did come upon a higgledy piggledy well-stocked little store. 

Heading 'home' quite satisfied, I heard the sweet strains of Bob Marley's 'Three Little Birds', our 'everything's gonna be alright' song that we turned to at tough times in the last 20 years of our life together. Won't go into what made it so, but it is 'our song.'

There was my busker. A kind, open face. Sitting with his guitar on the pavement outside the forbidding rusticated wall of a palazzo. A warm smile. I shuffled through the unfamilar euros. A small gift.

                And as I turned homeward, I looked up to see if there might be a street name, to pair with this lovely travel memory.

And there was. Canto dei Pazzi. I thought it might mean Street of Peace. Silly me.

Your Palazzo or Mine?

 There are no fewer than 311 palazzos in the index of my Florence architectural walking tour guide (Richard J. Goy.) And these are palazzos of distinction, although admittedly not all get full descriptions. Many are museums, but many others still residential, housing apartments or luxury hotels to more humble bed and breakfasts I read of one (don't ask) which is still being used by the original family. Palazzo is the name for 'stately home' or grand home of an important and wealthy family. They emerged in the Renaissance, evolving from medieval tower houses to the Renaissance palace. Palazzos were often style setters, as the well-to-do families who built them would have been educated and often patrons of the arts. 

So, despite the fact that these typically four-storey stone edifices, set right at the sidewalk, turn the narrow streets of the 'centro storico' into tunnels, blocking the long view and presenting navigational problems - street signage in the old area is a challenge at best - they are one of my fascinations as I explore Florence.

It's frustrating for photo hounds; it's often difficult to get back far enough to capture the facade.as a whole. Details must suffice. 

I visited three of the most celebrated Renaissance palazzi in October. Details to follow. On an October Saturday, at 9:30 am, I began my self-guided tour of the storied Medici Palace, and it opened its doors to me.

I will not, in any of these travel posts, attempt to be the expert. Loads of sites can do this for you. This is about me. Pinching myself at being here. Being in a place that was built in the 1440s. First impressions. "Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Ontario anymore."

What struck me most was the serenity. Sure business and intrigue happened here. But that feeling of being protected from the world outside was evident. 

Other thoughts. The wealth, the privilege, the opulence of the surroundings, the masses of art treasures. This is the family (Cosimo) who commissioned Donatello to create David, for the garden. Most of  the palazzo rooms were redecorated in Baroque style (not my favourite) in the 1600s, after the Riccardi family bought and enlarged the palace (by 9 bays).

 The extant original room, the sublime Chapel of the Magi, took my breath away. And despite warnings that groups of twenty are allowed timed access to this tiny space, I had the chapel to myself. I was eye to eye with the family notables painted into Gozzoli's fresco cycle depicting the Magi. Here's a good site should you want more expert commentary.

I've read several histories of the Medici family over time. I have just put down yet another, Paul Strathern's The Medici. Can't get this visit out of my head. Heart?

It was in the public spaces that I was most aware of the refinement, serenity, simplicity, order, classical Renaissance principles on offer here. I spent several quiet morning hours in the internal courtyard and the exterior garden.

As in all of the old buildings I visited, my favourite spots are the courtyards - the cortile or internal courtyard and the outer garden space - both protected from the hoi poloi outside - for I suspect that in the fifteenth and sixteenth century things were no less chaotic 'without the walls'. A different kind of chaos, more unwashed I warrant. 

Here are some resources from the dozens out there, should my ramblings fall short: The Florentine, Wikipedia. No apologies, this blog is my collection of thoughts, not a reworking of the massive scholarship about places that move me.

 My friend Linda wondered if  photos plus e.e.cummings succinctness would be adequate. Might try that.

But... not really my style. My writer friend Larry, he of the tiny perfect essays 100 Words and sympathetic to my rambling enthusiasms suggested Ellipses and Parentheses as an alternative title to this new blog. 

Pure Bliss

 Years ago, I spotted an amazing structure as my love and I zoomed along a country road somewhere in the Cotswolds, on a family visit to the area. There wasn't time to investigate further, and I expected never to see that intriguing bit of England's history again. 

This summer I spent a delightful 10 days with dear family near Stow on the Wold; a daily routine of "drop me off in [selected village name here]" led to a number of delightful solo rambles, time to explore and photograph every gorgeous historic  home, shop, townscape. 

 On the way home from a day in Chipping Norton, I was astonished to see my mystery building, and to learn its history. With considerable effort, given traffic and the perennial tight spaces, my dear brother-in-law got us off the road and into the property.

We were on the parklike site of the historic Bliss Tweed Mill! In that wonderful way the the UK and Europe have, the building had been preserved and repurposed after its days as a woolen mill ended in the early 20th century. Today the iconic industrial structure has been spruced up and offers luxury flats. If only Ontario would do this more often! You can see hints of the ironframed brick vault construction in the featured apartment.

The aesthetic appeal of the structure! A five-storey Italian Renaissance countryhouse was evoked by its symmetry, corner towers, limestone facing and classical elements like string courses and roofline adornments. The impressive chimney stack rises like a Tuscan tower from a drum and dome above the roofline.

historic postcard

This is what historian Harold Hurrell* has to say about the reason for such display: "the use of architectural embellishment on industrial buildings was probably intended to secure the approval of socially powerful individuals and groups by display of the owner's entrepreneurial ambition to social and aesthetic concerns...social self aggrandisement..." Lest we judge Wm. Bliss too harshly for that bit of snobbery, we must also look at his creation of workers' housing on the property, in close proximity to the family home in its parklike setting. The Bliss family maintained a patriarchal relationship with their happy workers, until the early twentieth century.  

I have long been fascinated by the history of the industrial revolution in England - while appalled at the human misery it brought about. I am especially drawn to British industrial architecture  - its iron bridges, networks of canals, factories and ingenious machinery (always patiently explained by my dear engineer.)

At the fine Chipping Norton Museum of Local History on the High Street, I grabbed the few moments before closing to dash through the displays of Bliss tweeds, photos, awards and Bliss family history and acquire a couple of local histories from the charming and enthusiastic volunteer.  

My focus is on the social (and architectural) aspects of the mill. My resident engineer would have helped out with the functional aspects. Should your interests tip that way, I recommend the following: the small but mighty history volumes *The Bliss Mill - Chipping Norton by Harold Hurrell and The Wool Trade in Chipping Norton, by Janice Cliffe.

A visit to the magnificent Burford Church nearby spoke eloquently about the power and riches emanating from the area's wool trade. Characteristic woolsack tombs, with their rounded tops like sacks of wool memorialize industrialists like William Bliss and his sons.    

Here are a couple of articles, should you wish to read more. The Revolting Tweed-makers is a must. Hermione Taylor gets credit for this great observation: "Depending on who you ask, Bliss mill is considered architecturally outstanding or looking like a toilet plunger." There are some fine photos at John Shortland's entry on his Life in the English Cotswolds blog. And Wikipedia has a good article on all aspects of British industrial architecture: I shall come back to it when I tell you about my adventures at Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol.

Bleached blonde

  My favourite kinds of countryside are bare   (well, lichen-covered is okay) whale-back   rocks, dry bleached grasslands and desert   country. I don't know what that says about my   character or my soul. I believe dancing   waterfalls and verdant flower meadows are a   bit more conventional.

 Tonight I am moving beyond my small square   in Rome to a summer memory of the interior   of BC. Don't want to get into a rut. 

I spent the month of August 2024 in BC, mostly with my two dearest oldest friends on the coast. I did however, take time for me, and in this case, my memories.  

I drove the 365 miles from Vancouver to Grand Forks BC, the challenging Hope-Princeton highway, the astonishing Anarchist Summit, with time to myself to think. Mostly about the road.

I know the trip's exactly 365 miles, because in 1978/9 I rented an old house in that town, and took on my first teaching job, working with a great small group of developmentally challenged kids.

 I know it was 365 miles, as that's how many my sweetheart drove to visit me each Friday, and to return to work in Vancouver each Sunday (and how sad they were) night.

This was the first time I'd visited on my own. We left BC for Ontario in 1985, returning on several occasions to visit our old haunts, our old friends. This time, I went looking for D. And he was there. 

One of the best things I did was driving up Hardy Mountain - I had forgotten just how steep it was! Hardy Mountain is one of the areas inhabited by the fine Doukhobor people who made the Kootenay Boundary area home in 1908. Today a few of their red brick communal houses stand, remnants of their self-sufficient life. Their influence lives on in many aspects of daily life in the town. 

I stood by the road, listening to the wind in the long dry grass. And it was where I wanted to be in the world.

The Impertinent Tail of Bernini's Elephant

Who could resist the dramatic semicircular colonnades in St. Peter's Square, the encircling arms of Mother Church? 

Or the passion and perfect marble flesh of Saint Teresa?  (thanks Wiki) 

Or the drama of the Dove of the Holy Spirit in St. Peter's Basilica?

So much has been written about their creator, a sculptor, painter, architect and father of the Baroque.

That superabundance has stopped me writing this post for two weeks.

Then I recalled that this is my space, to record my observations, facts I want to retain, findings from research rabbitholes I've fallen down, not the definitive source on Gian Lorenzo Bernini.

So, let's reduce Bernini's legendary career down to one delightfully cheeky sculpted elephant: with a bit of how she came to be, and what hidden messages might be found in her chunky frame. 

Bernini's elephant and I were next-door neighbours for a divinely busy week in October. My small hotel was paces from Piazza della Minerva. The square featured Rome's only Gothic church (I'm told), and a Dominican friary (site of Galileo's trial at the hands of the Inquisition in 1633 for the heresy of suggesting the earth revolved around the sun.) 

It was as you can see  just around another corner from no less a neighbour than the Pantheon. Are you picking up a bit of my "pinch me, I'm actually here!" enthusiasm?

So, here's what I have gleaned from tall tales and urban legends from my Pantheon walking tour guide and a few dozen websites,  about Bernini's elephant:

-commissioned by Pope Alexander VII and unveiled in 1667

-designed by Bernini, likely carved by assistant Ercole Ferrata

- supports a  five-metre tall 6th century BC red gramite Egyptian obelisk on her back (more later, on those stupendous things scattered around the city)

-the Pope's idea was a symbol of divine wisdom and a strong foundation. The inscription reads: "Let any beholder of the carved images of the wisdom of Egypt on the obelisk carried by the elephant, the strongest of beasts, realize that it takes a robust mind to carry solid wisdom."

- the project was supervised by Dominican priest Domenico Paglia with whom Bernini had artistic differences. Paglia insisted that such a weight required support, and Bernini was forced to prop up the belly with a cube, disguised as a saddlecloth (which led to mocking about his chubby creation.) And we all know that Bernini could make solid stone float on air ("physics-bending" in one commentary) Just look at that trunk! And then there's the Fountain of the Four Rivers...

-the Bernini-Paglia friction led our guide (and numerous others) to draw attention to the elephant's behind.The story goes that the elephant's tail, pointed at the Dominican convent home of Paglia, is twitched to the side, and its buttocks clenched, as if it's about to pass wind. 

So Bernini had the last word.

To conclude, a quick look around the Piazza. The plain front of the Gothic church is deceiving, I assure you. I'll take you inside later. And explain the name.