God vs. Man

So far, the natural wonders of our trip have taken center stage. From Iceland's mysterious molten landscape to Norway's idyllic fjords to Ireland's sheer cliffs to Italy's Cinque Terre, they have all been amazing and have all been made by God. Until now. The last three days we were in Florence, Italy. In the center of art in Italy, and perhaps the world, we viewed frescoes by Giotto and The Birth of Venus and sculptures by every famous Italian who ever lived. It seemed as though each block had a new museum, or a church turned museum, to walk through and view the most timeless pieces in art. One, however, took the cake. Walking through the crowds of Carnival Cruise Line tourists, I was focused only on getting in to the Accademia Galleria with as little wait and effort as possible. We had wisely reserved our tickets (thanks again, Rick Steves) so we walked right in. Michelangelo's work began immediately, his unfinished 'Prisoners' a work in progress, making the viewer much more aware of the time and effort it must have taken to create something beautiful and soft out of the marble slabs with which they started. It seemed such an awesome task, one undertaken with the most unwavering confidence, to start with the block of stone and finish with something beautiful. A few minutes glancing at these pieces and their descriptions was all the more we took. The main event was awaiting at the end of the hall.

While I was aware of the centerpiece of the gallery, I was not prepared for it. David stood there, bathed in natural light, a masterpiece, a mammoth, an incredible beauty. Now let me preface here. I am not an art lover. Some of the minutes in those museums were painful as I peered into yet another beautiful, but meaningless to me, face of the Madonna. And yet, when I saw Michelangelo's work, his deep eyes gazing into the Florentine future with a yet unseen optimism, I was struck. I truly was taken aback.

Another Rick Steves suggestion was to eavesdrop on the tour groups' guides, imparting all of their analysis and wisdom into us art novices. Yet I didn't want to be bothered by the history, by the critiques, by what the artist was trying to communicate. It seemed to me he was telling me something. David was strong and optimistic and powerful, but he was (as I knew from Sunday School) a simple shepherd with nothing but a sling to bring down the greatest of foes. I simply wanted to soak up the beauty of this work and listen to what it said. So we did. We sat for 45 minutes, gazing at this amazing work, and then wandered bleary eyed through the rest of the museum, every sculpture that followed seemed a simple, innocent attempt at beauty compared with the work already seen.