My final day in Italy, I made my pilgrimage to the Church of Renaissance Art History, The Uffizi Gallery. I arrived before opening, with advance ticket voucher in hand and STILL met lines and lines of faithful art lovers there before me. But all was revealed in God's time, and I was face to face with the great masterpieces in all their larger than life glory.
Like most museums, you move in chronological order, observing artistic developments in progression. From flat, wooden Medieval altarpieces with stylized faces to the introduction of perspective and suggested depth to the fully understood workings of human anatomy and light, I delighted in pulling the bits of remembered art history lectures from the cobwebs of my memory. Names like Giotto, Filippo Lippi, Caravaggio, Bronzino and of course Botticelli and da Vinci.
And it must have been Heaven, because almost all of the paintings featured Jesus, Mary and assorted Saints in their majesty. Like any good icon, these religious paintings were a conduit towards the divine, an inspiration and a recognition to me of God's life and incarnation in the world, working through the hands of his creative artist children. And I wondered, as I navigated the crowds of tourists from many countries, did these images hold anything sacred for them? Or were they just another stop on the bus through European masterpieces?
Like most museums, you move in chronological order, observing artistic developments in progression. From flat, wooden Medieval altarpieces with stylized faces to the introduction of perspective and suggested depth to the fully understood workings of human anatomy and light, I delighted in pulling the bits of remembered art history lectures from the cobwebs of my memory. Names like Giotto, Filippo Lippi, Caravaggio, Bronzino and of course Botticelli and da Vinci.
And it must have been Heaven, because almost all of the paintings featured Jesus, Mary and assorted Saints in their majesty. Like any good icon, these religious paintings were a conduit towards the divine, an inspiration and a recognition to me of God's life and incarnation in the world, working through the hands of his creative artist children. And I wondered, as I navigated the crowds of tourists from many countries, did these images hold anything sacred for them? Or were they just another stop on the bus through European masterpieces?
I sketched as I could in the museum, taking as many photos of the people as I did of the art. After a marvelous morning of art, I retired to a nearby cafe, eating the best Italian panini EVER, with a refreshing glass of vino bianco, and painting my own small homage to the day.
As my Bishop from West Tennessee once told me, "God speaks to us in the language which we understand." And I was hearing the chorus of angels all around! Alleluia! Thanks be to God!
As my Bishop from West Tennessee once told me, "God speaks to us in the language which we understand." And I was hearing the chorus of angels all around! Alleluia! Thanks be to God!