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:

Mountain Escape Salzburg

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

As my friend and hostess Sylvia and I cruised around Salzburg, we ended up in a large cluster of buildings, churches and the like, with the tombstones that were covered with the colorful live plants. I was beginning to wonder if all of Austria treated their dead in this way, never forgetting. I think the church was St. Peter’s. I know I am a terrible tour guide because I was content to look and not think of labels (names, locations, etc.). It was overcast that day, raining a bit. Sylvia was not happy with the large amount of unusual rain they had there during my visit, but I rather enjoyed it and felt like laughing a lot when we got caught in it.


Along the cliffside in this cemetery, one could view some mausoleums, presumably used by the wealthier families in Salzburg. And then above those one can make out windows embedded in the cliffs. Sylvia told me that these spaces were used to protect people during the war. I did not think there looked like there was much space in which to hide many people, but then I did not go up inside.



I remember that in the Carrara area of Italy, I was told similar stories about the mountains hiding locals from foreign attack. In fact, Lardo di Colonnata is a specialty dish of this Tuscan region, served even today. It is a “food” that is basically pig fat with pepper. It was all that people had to eat when they retreated up into the mountains to escape capture during wars. And it kept them alive. Perhaps that is why they cherish this dish so, but I have never had the desire to eat it.

Austria Cemeteries Beinhaus Hallstatt

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

I am not sure why I have always liked to visit cemeteries, but there it is. And I must say that Austrian cemeteries struck me at the most beloved. Every single grave that I saw had fresh colorful flowers and most had candles going. I would not have said that there seemed to be a competition going on who kept the loveliest site, it just did not feel that way.

When I asked if the churches did all of that work, my friend Sylvia told me that no, at least in her village, it was up to the family members who were alive to do the caring. In her case, she tends to the graves of her loved ones almost every day. It helps that she lives in a small village and the church is close by, but still: ALL of the graves are well tended in every cemetery that I saw.





In a Gothic church in Hallstatt, there is a small stone room called the Beinhaus (The Bone House) in the Michaelskapelle (St Michael Chapel). It contains the bones of many that were buried in this village. In this very vertical mountainous region, space is at a premium and at some point in history these bones were moved from their graves to make room for other bodies. Then the bones were stacked neatly all together, with the skulls aligned on top for remembrance. Many skulls were painted with leaves or family crests. The names and life dates of each person were painted onto the skulls.


Although the small ossuary was filled with tourists snapping flash images, Sylvia asked me to have some respect and take no photos. Instead, she bought me a postcard that they had for sale at the entrance, where a woman charged either 3 or 6 euros per person to enter the Beinhaus. I noticed that the skulls inside in front of the cross were different from the ones on the postcard, so I became curious about how often remains were added or rearranged. It seemed to me that as small as this village may have appeared, there should be more bones than what were here.

If you would like to know more about the Beinhaus or Hallstatt (a LOVELY, lovely village and a World Heritage Site), please visit:

www.igougo.com/attractions-reviews-b336842-Hallstatt-Beinhaus_The_Bone_House.html

http://austria-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/see_hallstatt_karner_bone_house