I've just returned from Florence, somewhere I've wanted to go since I was, ooh, ten...Blame Room with a View. I can still quote worryingly large chunks of the film and yes, I'm afraid that I do prefer it to the book. The book is brilliant, of course, but each time I reread it, new sadnesses and class issues emerge and it's just not as joyous as the film. So there. I know I should be loyal to the literature but the film just is a dose of sunny happiness and romance.
Slightly drifting off on a tangent. So. Florence. The city itself didn't win my heart as I had expected it too - far too many tourists and the shops were all far too same-same international tatarama. There was no sense of the Florentine way of life. I;m sure if you lived there that you would work out the best local areas but even the quieter squares still seemed to have American art students lounging around. I far preferred Pisa; there I had a real feeling of all the Pisans coming out and about for their Sunday outing, dressed in their best.
However, what I cannot get over were Michelangelo's unfinished struggling slaves. Yes, The Uffizi was crammed with the most amazing art and put together in a thoughtful and clear way, and yes, David turned out to be far more than just a naked fitty. If it didn't sound too prim I would say that to label him so would be a bit of an insult - he seemed far too much of a hero with a really commanding presence. Awesome. In the full sense of the word. No, what I keep on returning to is the statues that line the corridor in the Accademia leading up to David. I had no idea they are unfinished - although I did think that they were surprisingly modern, emerging from the lumps of rock and not completely sculpted out. But that's what I loved. It seemed that there was something almost primordial about the muscular figures straining desperately to break free from the rock. I thought it was Renaissance Man trying to shake off the past and push into a more developed, more beautiful form. But no. Just unfinished. That doesn't remotely diminish their power for me, though. I've never had a 'favourite' piece of art before but at the moment, they are exactly that. Sensual, powerful, sheer strength, muscle and human longing. Mental and physical determination caught in a lump of rock. Intense. Duuude. Sorry, I couldn't help deflating that last bit of oooh-ing. Arrgh, boss back. Finito hear. Final thought: Vivoli icecream, bliss. Honey my top flavour. Mmm.