Last month (February 2012) we undertook a research trip to visit cast copies of the Gates in the Berlin Neues Museum and those hung on the Baptistry in Florence. Spaces were connected and compared through the casts, understanding how identical artworks are viewed and understood within their differing contexts.
Following posts will chart the visits through field notes, creative text and images.
In the meantime…
Visiting Florence allowed for the chance to reconnect in person with artist and writer Lisa McGarry, a resident of the city, who has been involved with the project since its initiation in 2009. Lisa’s book ‘The Piazzas of Florence’ intertwines personal experience of the spaces, with historical information and travel guide; a snapshot of the evolving environment beautifully illustrated with painted maps of the Piazzas. http://www.lisa-mcgarry.com/Lisa_McGarry/The_Piazzas_of_Florence_The_book.html
The following passage in particular struck us both as an evocative description of participating in an event held within the Duomo (Cathedral) and the Piazza which the Gates look onto. (Reproduced with kind permission of the author).
This Sunday morning feels like just another April day-sunny, lots of pedestrians on the streets, the cafes and shops open for business, with the usual Sunday exceptions. It’s not until I have nearly reached Piazza del Duomo that I feel sure today really is Easter: the hordes of pedestrians have come to a halt, and a few blocks ahead, between the baptistery and the cathedral, Il Brindellone, the traditional cart containing the fireworks for the Scoppio del Carro, waits expectantly.
Once I enter the church, I wander among the crowds for a while, listening to the roar of thousands of people talking and the sweet voices of a children’s choir piped over the speakers. ‘It’s almost as big as a soccer field,’ I overhear a man say in Italian-the Italians always seem to have soccer on the mind.
I have never seen the church so packed. I finally find a spot by the altar, under the cupola. Centred before the raised altar is the column that supports one end of the wire, with the mechanical dove in the starting position. Helicopters are circling outside. There is a feeling of anticipation and excitement as I look around, taking in details that I have only read about before. Last year I was in the piazza and couldn’t see much more than heads and shoulders. Even so, waiting in the closely packed crowd, hearing the spark of the dove upon its arrival and then the explosions of the cart-joined a few moments later by the joyful ringing of the bells – filled me with unexpected emotion. I am growing used to this fragmented way of witnessing celebrations here though – it’s like assembling a collage or creating a mosaic of compiled memories over time.
(Continued below)
