My Way Is The Highway

The Gates of Paradise: Lorenzo Ghiberti’s Renaissance Masterpiece

Continued from … 

The craggy old man sat under the receding shadow of Giotto’s campanile. He was selling cheap replica’s of Michelangelo’s David, postcards that depicted Tuscan landscape’s and other tidbits. I pointed over his shoulder and asked if the kind senor knew anything about those doors. He did not even bother to look behind. He gave me the high two shouldered I-do-not-care Italian shrug and continued to brood.

I even saw some tourists, head buried deep into Frommers’ , walk right past it. Right past the very doors Michelangelo dubbed porta caeli – The Gates of Paradise. 

It is easy to see why. There is just so much going around here on the cobbled courtyard west of the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore. There is the iconic dome that caps not only the church, but metaphorically, caps Florence, The western neo-gothic façade of the basilica is stunning. Nearby, Giotto’s tower soars up in the Duomo’s airspace, unleashing a cunning optical illusion that leads the viewer to believe that all levels of the tower are of the same size (where as they mushroom out as the tower goes up.) Amidst these gigantic structures, both in size and reputation, the tiny octagonal Baptistery can be inadvertently ignored and the iconic bronze gates, just a spec on the spectacular Florentine art landscape.

Perchance, a visitor with a basic eye for the fabulous were to glance sideways, the view is guaranteed to stop the most frantic dash mid-step. And for those, like me,  who came looking for them, put the backpack down, pull a chair, for there is a lot to soak in here. 

For a twenty-first century frequent flier, digital SLR totting, email on iPhone, Rick Steve on iPad globe trotter, it would be difficult to imagine the early years of the fifteenth century to be anything but idyllic, laidback, easy, uncomplicated. Right here in Florence, the times were anything but that. The art frenzy in Florence c1400s matched the dot-com madness of Silicon Valley in late 1990s. Art was the currency, artists were cult icons and time was of essence. In 1401, Lorenzo Ghiberti and Fillipo Brunelleschi, two superstar artists came face to face, each bidding their superlative expertise to blow life into inanimate materials to earn the commission of the century, to design a new set of bronze doors for the baptistery. After one year of labor, the two artists presented their wares. (It is firmly believed that Giorgio Vasari first used the word concorrenza - competition in the context of this race.) The council could not cleanly choose between the two and they declared Ghiberti and Brunelleschi joint winners. Confident that he was second to none, even in the first place, Brunelleschi walked away from the contract, a decision that would ultimately pave another golden brick in the history of Florence and mankind. Ghiberti spent the next twenty-one years of his life in a workshop not too far from her, aided by apprentices like Donatello, to create a masterpiece that is today largely dated, insignificant and forgotten. 

Brunelleschi went into a self imposed exile and appeared in time to participate in another competition in 1418 to design and build the dome for the church. Brunelleschi and Ghiberti competed again and this time Brunelleschi won. The rest is history. Brunelleschi managed to design and build a structure that has not been attempted for 500 years. Had Brunelleschi won the competition for the doors, it is quite likely the church would still have been an uncapped building. While Brunelleschi was busy figuring out the ingenious “dome within a dome”, Ghiberti was quietly granted the commission for a second set of doors, the Gates of Paradise, this time depicting scenes from the Old Testament. 

For almost 25 years after that, Brunelleschi and Ghiberti co-existed on this very courtyard that I now stand. I wonder how the two humongous personalities persisted so claustrophobically together without taking a sledgehammer at each other’s work. 

Lorenzo Ghiberti (1378–1455). Jacob and Esau Panel, from Gates of Paradise Do not miss the Easter egg the master planted. In  the bottom right corner above, you can see Ghiberti's self portrait. Had he tried this trick a century ago, he would have been hanged for it.

Not only did they survive around each other, they chose to inextricably weave themselves into each others work: Ghiberti was the inspector for Brunelleschi’s dome – often offering needless advice, while Brunelleschi used the very Baptistery as the subject as he reinvented the lost art of Linear Perspective, that Ghiberti gleefully incorporated in his new ten panels in bronze.

Lorenzo Ghiberti (1378–1455). Joseph Panel, from Gates of Paradise Notice the clever use of depth to reinforce linear perspective?

Each bronze door is one monolithic piece of bronze. A 4 foot tall fence prevents visitors from going too close. The fence is understandable. The urge to touch the panels is extremely strong. Paul Walker’s well researched and peppy book on the lives and times of the two artists adds a whole different dimension that makes is even more worthwhile to be here. In his words “…the two young masters, full of dreams and promise, and Florence herself – already old and storied-stood at a crossroad, not only in Italy but in the history of western world, a crossroad that could only lead in one of two directions: destruction or rebirth.”

Roman Holiday: Two weeks in Italy

We spent two fantastic weeks in Tuscany and Liguria in the summer of 2009. We kept our itinerary slow and limited sightseeing to about 2-3 hours every day. The rule of thumb was only one church or museum on a day. We worked the meandering road of the cities - walking in Rome, Sienna and Florence, biking in Lucca, hiking in Cinque Terre, we stopped at every piazza, and sat and watched the beautiful country around us.

We picked up our rental car only after finishing Rome and Vatican. It allowed us to move freely in Tuscany, allowing us to stop whenever we wanted to. Most drives in the region are short, the longest not more than 3 hours, the average just under one. The car gave us the “bummer” that every trip needs. Italy showed us its character through that event. We enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed everything else.

Day 0 minus 1: Seattle to Frankfurt. Frankfurt to Roma.

Day 0:  We landed at Leonardo da Vinci, stay at Eurostar, sat at the beautiful Trevi Fountain eating gelato and tossed our coin to ensure a second visit.

Day 1, we walked the cobbled streets of Rome, stumbled upon the Colosseum,  wandered the historic political power center at Roman Forum and climbed the Palentine Hill. In the afternoon, we gawked at the magnificent dome covering  the Pantheon and followed the sun drop from the oculus on the walls of the most ancient temple in service. We dined at the  Piazza Navona.

Day 2, we crossed the Tiber to reach the Vatican. We started with the  Musei Vaticani and soaked in Michelangelo, Pinturicchio and Raphael’s iconography. We enjoyed Bernini’s warm baroque embrace in the sunny Piazza de San Pietro before climbing Michelangelo’s Dome of San Pietro’s Church for a sweeping view of Rome. Then we entered the Sistine Chapel and rendered speechless by the greatest fresco of all times.  We picked up our car and drove to Volterra and put ourselves up at Fattoria Lisceto (recommended), our Tuscany base-camp.

Day 3, after enjoying a lovely country morning on the farm-hotel, we drove towards Volterra through the rolling Tuscan landscape. The Etruscan walls enclose a myriad of pretty streets, roadside ristorantes and a main plaza called Piazza de Priori. We were the only ones at the 1st century BCE Teatro Romano amphitheater,  as were we at Fonte Docciolo – the thirteenth century water fountain. A local artisan carved a chess piece out of a piece of alabaster for Rhea and engraved her initials on the bottom to her endless joy. We then returned to base-camp to witness a mind-blowing lightshow.

On day 4, Sienna beckoned. There is no better place to start in Sienna than Piazza Il Campo where the historic Palio that the James Bond movie made even more famous. We then entered the Duomo where 172 popes watched us with unblinking eyes. We stopped at Piccolomini’s altar to witness Michelangelo’s prototype of the David’s hand before stepping into Piccolomini’s brightly lit and decorated library, felt pious in Bernini’s chapel before climbing the vertigo inducing Torre del Mangia to watch the sun soak the Siennese roof tops.

On day 5, we enjoyed a sunny afternoon in San Gimignano with its ancient “skyscrapers”, then drove towards Lucca and put up at La Magnolia.

On day 6, we picked up the bicycles from the hotel and pedaled aimlessly witnessing the city wake up to receive the day trippers. We had a lazy lunch at the beautifully restored Piazza Anfitheatro, then promptly burned down the calories by climbing the Guinigi Tower to watch the Lucca red rooftops, and finally enjoyed riding the fortress walls.

On day 7, we packed our bags for Liguria. On the way, we made a brief stop at the Leaning tower of Pisa to take a few touristy photos. For the only time on this trip, we decided to pass climbing the tower. We drove up the coast to Cinque Terre and put ourselves up at the scenic coastal village of Rio Maggiore. After all, this is where Italians go for a vacation.

On day 8, we hiked the scenic Cinque Terre National Park. The trail connects the five villages of Cinque Terre, hugging the west coast of Liguria, precariously dangling over the deep blue crystal clear water of the Mediterranean. It is a must do and has segments that can be done by any and all. If you are too tired, on the way back you can take a train or catch a ferry.

On day 9, we packed for the last leg of our trip. Entering Tuscany from the west, we were put up at the historic millhouse called Mulino della Abate converted into a quaint B&B, in the heart of the Chianti wine country.

On day 10, we were in Florence. We had our first look at Brunelleschi’s awe inspiring dome from Piazzale Michelangelo. After lunch, we used our pre-booked tickets to beat the lines and enjoy works of masters like Giotto, Michelangelo, Titian, Caravaggio, Donatello, Raphael at the Uffizi. After an expensive coffee at the roof top cafeteria of the Uffizi, with a booming view of the dome, we soaked in Giambologna’s sculptures at the Piazza della Signoria, before winding down at Ponte Vecchio – the bridge that melted Hitler’s heart.

We had left day 11 for rest and recovery. We used it well to visits the gods of fashion – Fendi, Valentino, Armani, Balenciaga - at the nearby Arno della Vale before tasting some lesser known labels that create the magical elixir they call Chianti.

On day 12, we lit a shuck for Florence. We started by admiring the David’s immaculate proportions at the Academia. We had played hide and seek with the dome of St. Santa Maria for two days, so today we climbed it and enjoyed an incomparable vista of Florence before being stendhaled in front of Ghiberti’s gate of the Paradise at the Baptistery.

Day 13: Open day. Drive to Rome.

Day 14: Roma to Frankfurt and Frankfurt to Seattle.

 

Food:

While we went from city to city, we were working on the Tuscan food.  By no stretch of imagination can one call me foodie. By the time I am done applying my filters, the only thing left for me to eat is spicy Indian stuff. Tuscany was different.

Simple recipes that use fresh, local ingredients. Tomatoes, garlic, asparagus, bell pepper, egg plant. Lots and lots of olive oil and exotic herbs. Small servings presented beautifully without fuss.

For lunch, we usually ordered a bruschetta with bierra or a local white/rouge. (Vernaccia in San Gimignano was the find of the trip). We then ordered a plate of pasta and a plate of sea food. An espresso to round it off.

For dinner, we went for a local red or plain old house wine, inexpensive and delicious. We tried several soups. Ribollita was a revelation, as was bread soup – Focaccia dipped in tomato soup has never tasted so delicious,  a dessert (lemon tart, Tiramisu, even a chocolate cake once in a while),  ending with “un cafe”. Then on the walk back, we would get dollops of fresh gelato. By the end of the trip, we seemed to have tried every flavor  and loved them all.

We did not pick out restaurants. The restaurants picked us. We walked into the nearest trattoria when we were hungry. There is no disappointing meal in Italy. They were uniformly delicious. Yet no two plates ever tasted the same.

D Day. Seattle Airport

May 23rd, 2009

Pandu drops us at SeaTac. The first step in getting this body to meet the spirit that has been in Italy for 2 months. A quick early, eventless check in. Three bags to check-in and three carry-ons. Travelling well is my forte, not travelling light. I seem to need everything and then one each more as backup. I like the plastic bucket chairs at the airport. I like the water coolers at the airport. I like everything at an airport. Especially the announcements. A flight going to Istanbul. To Buenos Aires. To Prague. You are literally an airplane ticket (and a visa depending on your nationality) from being at any place they call the world.

Being at an airport means I am going somewhere (minus those grim instances when I am receiving somebody who just got somewhere). And I am built for going. The coffee is exotic. The French fries are crisp. I am going.

We board early using Rhea as an excuse (Rhea, look tired. I hush my exuberant 7 year old lest they use her effervescence to invalidate my claim). We settle down. We taxi. We take off. Seattle becomes a scaled-down model. A toy town. A Google map view. A spec.

Lunch service comes and goes. Kids wail. People shuffle. Stretch. Groan. I have finish reading the in-flight magazine. Lower the window. Push my seat back. Relax. How much more comfortable can one expect to be hurtling at 300 mph at minus 32 degrees?

An elderly passenger in the flight is led back to the galley. She is having problem breathing. They put her on oxygen. An Announcement. Asking for a doctor on the flight. I sigh. A choice I made several years ago. I could have been one of the three people who make there way towards the tail of the plane. But then hey, I might not have been on this plane. I think of Preeti. Had she been with us, she would be now back there. And me.

The plane follows the day-night bell curve. I drift in and out of sleep.

I am happy.