Pescia Italy Church Fresco

Dear Art Lover,

An open door leads to art, Pescia, Italy

     Sometimes people tell me, “Wow, you are so courageous to just pick up and move to Italy.” Well, first of all, that is not exactly what happened, and it took me years to finally find a place to call home and … whatever.  I usually respond with a confused look and a, “What?  Italy is not Afghanistan.  And anyone with a credit card can come to Italy.  I am not particularly special.”

     Still, to live outside of the country you were born in is not at all the same as visiting a foreign country.  And thankfully, at least in my experiences, there are many people, Italian and other expats alike, who really help out.  [I use the term ‘expat,’ which to some is a bit controversial, to mean someone, like me, who chooses to live outside her native country, but has not given up her citizenship in her native land; versus an immigrant who either has given it up or has become a dual citizen.]

     It was in this context of neighbors helping neighbors with health insurance issues that I found myself going again near the hospital in Pescia, Italy, the nearest decent-sized town to where I live.  We were looking for a specific office/person to help with my neighbors’ health-insurance, a tip from an Italian neighbor.  But this time, on the walk down a somewhat familiar street, a rather plain old wooden door invited a look inside.  I was surprised to see frescos and a dramatic light emerging inside washing over the art.  So, this was a small old church tucked into modern surroundings.

     Ever curious, but aware that we were in a hurry to find this person, I quickly snapped some images and gazed up a bit to try to understand what treasure we had discovered in this little city once famous for its flower productions. 

     It is the Oratory of Saint Antonio Abate. There was a date in the sign of 1210-1220, but I had too much glare on the laminated sign and am unclear on what the date refers to.  However, the organ at the back was constructed on 1853 by Nicomede Agati.  And the wooden sculpture [Umbrian-Tuscan sculptor of the late nineteenth century. XIII Deposition of Christ, carved and painted wood], was affected by the great flood in Florence of 1966.  Well here is the translation of part of the sign I photographed in the oratory:

“The part of the Superintendence at the Galleries was mainly in the recovery of the famous Romanesque wood group. It had been restored for the first time in 1943, albeit with poor results because the technical means available at that time had failed to block the process of infestation and disintegration of the wood, which was for the second time hospitalized in the workshops of the Superintendence at the Galleries Of Florence, had the misfortune to suffer on 4 Nov 1966 the flood water damage.”

As for the fresco around the altar, it seems to have been restored in 1975.  Enjoy the snapshots!

Peace,

Kelly Borsheim, artist 

wood ceiling typical of long ago

 

wood sculpture, restored again after great flood 1966, Firenze

the ceiling fresco

the organ at the back was constructed on 1853 by Nicomede Agati

San Miniato Florence Italy Gregorian Chant

Dear Art Lover,

      Saint Minas (or San Miniato in Italian) was an Armenian prince.  He served in the Roman army, which is how he found himself in Florence, Italy.  He later survived being fed to a panther [the panther’s choice apparently], in the amphitheatre (Via Torta?) at the order of the Emperer Decius, because it sucks to have a religion that is different from the prevailing masses or leadership.  This Emperor (from the years 249 to 251) later watched as Minas was beheaded.  It is said that the newly dead saint then collected his head and walked across the Arno River and up towards what is now known as the San Miniato al Monte (St. Minias on the Mountain).


     The church was started around 1013 with various improvements added over the centuries.  Today the Olivetan monks still live and work there.  They still sell their own made honey, herbal teas, and famous liquers. 

     To learn more about San Miniato al Monte in Florence, Italy, check out these pages:
http://www.sanminiatoalmonte.it/
     
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Miniato_al_Monte

    For years I had heard of the special masses in Latin in which one could go to San Miniato and hear Gregorian Chanting. I imagined many male voices singing in harmonies and I have wanted to see/hear this for years, although I tend to forget a lot or have other plans on the weekends.  However, I decided to make a point to attend one such mass before I leave Florence this time.  My friend Alessandra said she would join me.

     Ale and I had met up in Piazza Santo Spirito to see friends and the antique/hand-made market that fills the square each second Sunday of the month.  Afterwards, we walked down to Porta Romana and caught Bus 12 up to the Basilica, the exit just before Piazzale Michelangelo.  I was glad that we arrived early.  The mass was to start around 5:30 and the fading light up on the hill overlooking Firenze was lovely.  We were too late to see the cemetery, which features wonderful sculptures, as well as the graves of Carlo Lorenzini [author of Pinocchio] and the artist Pietro Annigoni.

I found this unfinished fresco especially intriguing.

     While I have been to the cemetery several times before, I had never been inside of the basilica. What a treat!  I really love the hand-carved and painted wooden beams on the ceiling, the mosaics in stone, and the sculpture and fresco.  The church goes mostly dark until someone puts a coin in a machine.  For some reason, I enjoyed being in the dark there, but I did take advantage of the light to photograph these images for you.

     The views from San Miniato overlooking the Arno River and downtown Firenze are pretty good, I would say.. er, I did say!

 













     The mass did not take place in the main open area with the pews.  Instead, it was a more intimate mass at a lower level “behind” the altar you see as you enter the church.  During the mass, Ale asked me if I understood the words.  I had already forgotten that the mass was in Latin.  As a child I remember enjoying the Latin mass.  It added to the mystery (along with tons of incense and bizarre rituals).  Not understanding the words was a blessing and was a great excuse for the daydreaming I have done all of my life when expected to sit still for any length of time.  Whether the mass had been in Italian or English, I would have daydreamed through most of it.

     I kept waiting for what I had come to see.  The priest was singing the mass… alone.  On occasion, a few voices in the audience joined in; sometimes I did, as well.  Then an old woman sitting to my left added her high and slightly off-key voice to the mixture.  I smiled.  I remembered going to Catholic Church as a child.  One time an old lady turned around and said to my father, “My, young man, what a lovely voice you have!”   My dad beamed:  he felt that he had been given TWO compliments with that one!

     I still waited.  At some point, Ale asked me if I had heard enough.  I was unsure of how to respond, but since the money basket was being passed around, I understood the end was near.  She put some coins in and the next time the people stood up, we escaped.  Outside the mass, I apologized to her for making a mistake about which mass had the Gregorian Chants.  She looked at me in surprise.  She explained that Gregorian Chant just really means that the mass is sung and that all are welcome to join in.  Sometimes you will witness many monks singing, as I had in my head, and others, it would be just one man leading the show, as was our night out.   Hmmmm.

     We walked down the hill to the Ponte alle Grazie together.  She went to meet with our friends, while I went home to continue my work.  At home, I immediately went to youtube.com and sought out Gregorian chant music videos.  It was the peace I wanted to fill the air and it was lovely, the many voices in unison.

To learn more about Gregorian Chanting, check out:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregorian_chant


     I am not above taking a donation.  Even five bucks is a help, if you enjoy what you read about and see in my images here on this blog.  Thank you.  [You may make a donation via the PayPal links on the side bar on the blog site:  http://artbyborsheim.blogspot.com ]

Peace,
Kelly

~ Kelly Borsheim, sculptor, painter, writer, teacher

http://BorsheimArts.com

A Side Chapel inside San Miniato:

Crucified Christ on a Pulley Chiesa di Sant’Agata nel Carmine Bergamo

Dear Art-loving friend,

      My first ten years of life aside, I do believe that I have never spent so much time inside a church as I do while living in Italy.  But hey, there is a LOT of art in churches here!   Each church or even basilica has its own personality, and yet, there are so many similarities.  My friend Susan and I meandered into the Chiesa di Sant’Agata nel Carmine in the Città Alta of Bergamo earlier this month.  It originated in 1391, was renovated in 1730, and contains works from the years in-between.  I must say that it feels odd to no longer be surprised when one enters a church containing such splendor.  In fact, sometimes I think it lessens the impact of the architecture of spaces in other countries.  

     However, I enjoyed the floor, reminding me of the harlequin’s pattern.  The skull and other relics were prominently displayed in one of the side chapels on the left.  Usually relics are not so easily accessible, or as impressive a collection in one space.  Things like this always leave me with more questions than answers.  If these are things of the spirit, are the spirits still connected with those of the physical or is it just that WE need to have this connection?  That sort of thing I ponder.

And, this may be the only church in which I found a crucified Christ on a pulley system.  Um, is that for some fun on Halloween (or better, All Saints’ Day)? 

     Well, I am still writing, so I suppose that lightning has missed me again.  It has always perplexed me that the Christian religion speaks freely and demonstrates in her temples most aspects of humanity, such as violence and death, and yes, reverence and faith too.  But rarely do we ever see images or artworks of sex, our most physical way of expressing love.  How often do we even see hand-holding or hugs?  Or is it just that the love of parent [or authority figure] without much physical expression, outside of the suckling from a feeding breast, is so much more important than physical love between consenting adults or even open affection?  I am not suggesting really that churches become filled with images of sexual playfulness or adventures [although I am certainly not opposed to it if beautifully done], but I do grow weary of the prevalent violent images.

      Now, on some lighter notes.  We saw fried and sugared polenta cakes in a bakery [with marzipan below them].  I have not tried this, but I imagine it is decadently delicious.  Grease and sugar, mainstays the world over. Traffic and dogs… Dogs in bakeries… Love it all.  And yes, by all means, encourage them to use the urinals… Men, too, please.


Happy birthday, dear Lei! This is a big one, no? I feel it too.  We still have much to accomplish!

     This is another one of those “lost in translation” situations.  “non pretendiamo tanto . . . ma almeno nei giardini”  Google translates this sign as “do not claim as much. . . but at least in the gardens”  I can think of lots of ways to interpret, but you decide.  I must study more Italian language!