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The Direttissima

The first high speed train in Europe (1977) was Italian, linking Florence with Rome. It was named the “Direttissima,” to indicate its direct, non-stop connection between the two cities. With a top speed of 124 mph (200 kph), it was an incredible achievement. Today, the “Frecciarossa” (Red Arrow) high-speed train connects Turin, Milan, Bologna, Florence, Rome, Naples and Salerno on the north/south spine, reaching an impressive speed of 186 mph (300 kph). Of course, the fifty years between the inception and today have brought multiple iterations and many technological innovations.

While many train stations have been redesigned for high speed capability, others are still undergoing significant upgrades. Sometimes there’s a need for an intermediate station to be added to the system, resulting in even more engineering and architectural marvels. For example, in the valley between Milan and Bologna, 2 million potential riders were in need of better access. The midway point happened to be the relatively quiet town of Reggio Emilia. The proposal called for a high speed rail master plan, catapulting the historic city into the 21st century. Spanish architect/engineer, Santiago Calatrava’s idea for the “Mediopadana” (Central Valley) Station was to create 3 iconic access bridges spanning the nearby autostrada in addition to a massive new station—all to be completed between 2007-2013. It was a bold initiative.

All four projects

We decided to take a road-trip to see the now-famous bridges (known collectively as “Le Vele:” The Sails). From the Autostrada A1, we first spied the three white sculptural structures. One arched over the highway, while the other two appeared on each side like “sails” over the entrance ramps. Then suddenly, rippling like a wave along the highway, we passed the train station. Wow! We had imagined the structures farther apart, yet they were relatively close creating a unified design. The open, undulating steel structure of the station fluttered above the tilled fields—somewhat surreal, since the Italian countryside is so pastoral. 

As we stood on the train platform, taking photo after photo, we experienced the station exactly as it was designed: to accommodate both high-speed, non-stop trains and local access simultaneously. Just pulling into the station from the north, a Frecciarossa stopped to load and unload passengers. While it was lingering, a conductor walked from coach to coach, answering questions and directing passengers. The engineer in the front coach awaited the conductor’s practiced arm wave, accompanied by the sound of her shrill whistle to proceed.

Then suddenly, we  heard something quite unexpected. On the middle tracks, where there’s no access to passengers, a Frecciarossa on the dedicated high-speed rails, zoomed through at that incredible speed of 186 mph. No doubt it was one of the trains with a non-stop run from Milan to Bologna. It sounded like a jet doing a low level fly-by, and lasted only seconds. There was no hesitation, no slowing through the station. We barely caught a glimpse before it was gone.

Sure, the architecture and engineering feats are breathtaking, but what struck both of us was the idea of speed. Those high velocity trains are all about accessing the future, and it’s definitely moving fast—currently at nearly 200 mph. However, the fancy technology doesn’t turn its back on the significant history held within ancient Italia. The residents of Emilia Romagna have fully embraced the inventive “Mediopadana Stazione” by Calatrava, which speaks to the capacity for both deep roots and powerful wings—that’s humanity at its best.

Photo Gallery

Video – Frecciarossa Departure

Twice normal departure speed—not even close to 186 mph

Video – Frecciarossa Non-Stop

You can watch an AV (Alta Velocità) train pass through the restricted inner two tracks reserved for non-stop traffic at the operational speed of 186 mph (300 kph) on YouTube.

Credits

Gallery photos:
by authors
Story photos and Video:
Inaugural train on the Direttissimo Line (1977) – Source: Evolutio
Aerial view of all four projects – Source: Andrea Delbo – Getty Images
Speeding Frecciarossa photo created by Gemini
YouTube video – Channel: alberto davoli trains

 

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A “sense of place” is really important for us. The convergence of varied elements come together to create something beyond the mere collection of parts—something ineffable. Although the  space may be difficult to describe, we take note of various aspects that resonate with us. It’s a unique sensation for each individual. The best we can do is simply name the phenomenon. In this case it’s “table number four” at the restaurant Piatti & Fagotti, in downtown San Domenico.

Table Number Four

A  small table for two just inside the front door beckons, with an alluring brew of intimate, unique, quaint, antique, and special ambiance with a dash of curious intrigue going on around that little vestibule of space. For us it’s irresistable. Originally, our window-on-the-world was another door, complete with a stone threshold of two steps up from the narrow sidewalk. Those former steps have been re-purposed as terraced shelves for terra cotta pots holding fluffy green plants—gently reminding passersby that this is “not a door anymore.”

We called ahead to make sure that our favorite table was available. It was not. Someone else with similar tastes had already nabbed it. We’re not surprised since it’s a really sweet spot. Reluctantly, we accepted the promise to be in the vicinity. Perhaps the ambiance of the open-aired table would drift a few feet to include us. But, to our surprise, the couple who had reserved the number 4, relinquished their hold at the last minute. Apparently there was just a little too much Tuscan sun streaming (momentarily) through the window. Lucky us!

Housed in an ancient convent, the restaurant has become a social hub in San Domenico, just mid-way up the hill between Florence and Fiesole, Italy. Across the street is a renowned school of music where students from around the world arrive to study. We watch a steady stream of musicians step off the bus number 7 and walk the remaining yards to the school. They are like bees drawn to the honey comb, buzzing with excitement. On their backs and in their hands, they carry various instruments. This delightful parade of musicians is part and parcel to the appeal of table number four.

Notes of Recognition

The name of the restaurant, Piatti e Fagotti is in honor of the symbiotic relationship between the musicians and great Tuscan fare. They go together: the plates (piatti) for the restaurant, and the carrying bags and cases (fagotti) for the instrumentalists. The clever logo for the restaurant is two musical notes—one rendered as a stylized ladle. The logo perfectly captures, in the name, the harmony between the two symbiotic entities. It whimsically “notes” or honors the rigors of musical studies, while simultaneously invites all passersby to share a hearty, comforting meal.

Tuscany brims with such small wonders. They’re just around the corner or beyond the next bend in the road. They’re uttered in a friendly greeting or generously served up warm to table number four.

Addendum

Here’s another view of “Table Number Four” from the outside/streetside, showing the repurposed steps with plants. Today we lunched al fresco, perched within a four-feet wide dining platform. Note: that’s a sidewalk between the rail and the building.

To show the irresistible quirkiness of this place, following is the olive grove, across the narrow street, which is owned by the school of music—doubling as an outdoor dining room. This further illustrates the close relationship between the school and the restaurant. The school actually installed a short wood gate in their fence so customers at the Botega can climb the wall with lunch in hand to dine in the shade of the olive trees—simply beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Espresso. Simple. Rich. Satisfying. But how and why? We accepted the invitation to delve into the mystery.

We typically begin our day in a coffee bar—specifically, Pasticceria Lorenzo in the little town of Pian di Mugnone,Italy, just north of Florence. The coffee is quick and hot, and balances perfectly with a fresh pastry. When we’re in San Diego, we have a similar routine, however, the pace for breakfast is vastly different. In Italy, we drive 20 minutes to enjoy a 10 minute “breakfast.” In California, we walk for 10 minutes and stay for an hour on our devices. It’s a funny contrast, since Italy is known for “la dolce vita,” which usually means lingering and savoring.

In either place the coffee is great, but we started noticing something: the large espresso machine that coffee bars use makes a big difference in the taste and quality of the drink. Hmmm. Who made the machine, we wondered. Frequently, the answer to that question is: La Marzocco. So we decided to do a bit of research to locate the source of La Marzocco, since we knew it was a Florentine company. We struck gold!

An Awesome Machine

Just outside of Florence, in the tiny village of Pian di San Bartolo is a barista’s dream, the Accademia del Caffè Espresso. Housed in the original manufacturing building is a beautiful sunlit space with a designer coffee bar and areas to relax and mingle. But rather than simply the former factory, The Accademia has been transformed into an impressive contemporary museum about coffee! There are incredible displays with either guided or self-directed tours; also immersive tours and education focused on the history and science of espresso are available. Step up to the coffee bar where the barista awaits your order. They are proudly standing behind a gleaming espresso machine with the familiar script, La Marzocco adorning the front. Request an espresso. Then enjoy the magic.

A few sips later, we entered the exhibit space. We had the pleasure of sharing our experience with our own expert guide—Marta, the barista at Caffé Lorenzo. She shared her vast knowledge of coffee with us as we strolled through the exhibits. Displays were hands-on, so we also had a few laughs along the way.

Here’s a little La Marzocco background info: In 1927, the Bambi brothers invented the first ever, original, hand-made espresso machine called the Fiorenza. From that point on they refined and innovated their machines, always taking great satisfaction that each espresso machine was hand-built. Today, the machines are still completely handcrafted in their state-of-the-art manufacturing facility in Scarperia, farther afield from Florence. La Marzocco  is still recognized around the world for its excellence.

Caffè Lorenzo

When we walk into Caffè Lorenzo, Marta makes eye-contact with us in the mirror that spans the length of the machine. Immediately, she begins creating our “usual” coffees. Within seconds, she spins around, places a tiny spoon onto the saucer beside the coffee and places the fresh coffee on the counter before us. It is truly an orchestration. While we’re blissfully sipping our drinks and enjoying a few short and sweet conversations with the regulars, we know that there are so many elements that come into play to make that great cup of coffee. There truly is magic behind the coffee curtain. To begin with, the secrets are hidden in the three major components: la positzione (in this case, Florence); la macchina (the espresso machine); and la barista (the expert). Ahhhh Italia!

Simply Beautiful

One might have the best equipment and still not make the best espresso. That’s where the barista comes in. Operating these machines is not simply pushing a button. Instead, they require a high level of attention and manual precision. To pull a truly excellent shot, the barista must simultaneously master a number of variables. To dig a little deeper, we thought it would be fun to ask Gemini AI for the aspects of operation that make an espresso truly remarkable. Following is our interpretation of AI’s response:

Grind: the Goldilocks dilemma—not too coarse and not too fine.

Dose: They must have the exact weight of dry coffee grounds—within 0.1 grams to ensure consistency.

Distribution: Grounds must be leveled evenly or the flavor is lost.

Tamp: Firm, level pressure (usually around 30 lbs) to compress the grounds to the right density.

Water Temperature: Just the right amount of heat will bring out the best qualities of the coffee used. Only half of a degree can make an appreciable difference.

Ratio: How much liquid espresso should end up in the cup for the best taste, the ratio of grounds to water is the professional’s decision.

Timing: Monitoring the “shot time,” not too fast and not too slow—usually between 25 to 32 seconds.

Pressure: Variable adjustments in the water pressure can bring out the best—a truly incredible art-form, ventured into by only the perfectionist.

Aeration, Texturing: If the drink involves milk, controlling the steam wand properly is a critical factor.

If you are ever in Florence and want a delightful coffee experience, check out the Accademia in nearby Pian di San Bartolo. The photo gallery below will provide a small glimpse into what you will find upon your arrival.

Photo Gallery

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When people think of Italy, they often conjure up an image of Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday. There they were, zipping through the streets of Roma on . . . what else, but a Vespa. One of those classic, sculptural little motorini, motor-scooters that are synonymous with the very word, Italy.

But what is a Vespa, besides a well known brand? What does the word mean anyway? Is there a Mr. Vespa somewhere? No. Vespa actually means wasp. The classic little scooter took its name from the sound that it makes: that of a frantic buzzing wasp.

Italian Classic

Interesting. Right? Well, if you’ve ever been waiting at the traffic light to enter Piazza Donatello when the red goes to green, you’d swear that you’d just stumbled into a hornet’s nest. The surrounding buzz is thunderous.

Ever had a wasp circle your head? The sound is unmistakable. It’s sort of a medium-low drone—more than a bit menacing, causing me to instinctively duck under cover or clear the path, or maybe I should say the airspace. I typically give a wasp all the clearance it needs, so we can comfortably avoid each other. But lately, I’ve noticed something troubling. Despite my best efforts to evade them, they seem to be getting closer—like into our bedroom—regularly. By regularly, I mean daily. They do a few swooping circles and then disappear. BUT, we can still hear them, even if we can’t see them. Then the sound becomes a little different, sort of like they’re agitated. Maybe more like a muffled dentist’s drill. So, we felt compelled to track them down.

It seems that the wall between the sliding doors of the bathroom and closet is hollow, and they’ve discovered the space. So, in they fly, disappearing near the bathroom door and begin that frantic buzzing. It actually sounds like they’re building something. Apartments? A home away from home? Inside our hollow wall.

Last week I slid the closet door closed only to find 4-5 of those dreadful little mud cylinders that indicate wasps have set up housekeeping. In a reflexive swoop, I dashed them to the floor. They were dry, brittle structures that crumbled upon impact. Good, I thought . . . gone. Then, only moments later as I stood in the closet, in flew Ms. Wasp, carry something. What? What do they carry? It looked like the abdominal section from another wasp. Are parts interchangeable? Had I inadvertently happened upon Dr. Frankenvespa at work? And where was she going with that insect part? I casually observed her from a safe distance, pretending to sort my socks. She hovered just above the hangers and then dropped out of sight, right into one of Em’s collared shirts. What? Why? I imagined an already well established wasp colony along his shoulder seam. Quickly, I grabbed the shirt and shook it vigorously. Nothing happened. Nothing came flying out. Where did she go? I searched for a few minutes and then gave up. She had once again mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

Vespa Colony in Door

I shook my head and went on about my day. Hmmm. Where’s my aqua sweater? Oh yeah, I left it in the car. I hummed a little tune as I sashayed to the car where I spied my sweater through the back window. I opened the door. And there, to my surprise, was a cluster of wasp houses—inside the door, along the frame, just beside the black rubber strip. What? How? I couldn’t say. But the bigger question was WHY? What on earth would prompt a wasp to claim the space just beneath a rubber gasket inside a car door? Did she imagine her wasp-lings on meaningful road trips?

Too Cool!

My recent disturbing encounters with the whole buzzing vespa family had somewhat tarnished my romantic notion of those beautiful little motorini, cobblestone streets and Italian fountains. Then this morning, we received an email photo from a friend, taken at a sidewalk cafe in LA. His legs were outstretched, as he casually relaxed at a street-side coffee bar. On his feet? Red Ferragamo loafers which made me smile. And in the background? A classic mint green Vespa scooter!  I was instantly awash with the iconic meaning of the word Vespa and the romantic notions it conveys. Ah, sweet Italia!

Reposted from 2011

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Become the Observer. See the world, your world, through the eyes of a Witness.

Observe intently

We are given a new opportunity, a new perspective, when we free ourselves from the trappings of the mind. Without subjective thoughts, steeped in  trauma, drama, emotion and earthly logic, we can become a neutral bystander—participating in whatever activity is at hand, but simultaneously watching ourselves in the context of life events. We become free to acknowledge a hushed voice—perhaps the Soul, longing to be heard. We may sense subtle flutters of Inner Wisdom, Tiny Feathers drifting gently into consciousness. Earthly burdens of expectations release and detach. Relaxation settles over us. Simultaneously we feel an exhilarating freedom.

LaVerna Monastery

Sacred sounds, ageless chants have been used for centuries to shift focus from the ordinary, the everyday into a sense of awe and wonder. Spiritual beings throughout history have denied the corporeal world in search of deeper faith, wisdom and meaning. There have been curious stories about the presence of a brilliant white light that people seem to encounter when death approaches. We’ve watched cloaked monks process in a rhythmic sway, singing deep, resonating sounds that fill spacious stone cathedrals with a life-changing reverberation.

Floating and Swirling

Those wordless tones—the sacred sound of Om (AUM—ah-oo-mm), emanating from the “heart space” invoke spirit. To be “inspired” means to be infused with spirit. Breathe in, breathe out. The entire body becomes transformed. This is our hope—to soar, to invite momentary glimpses of Tiny Feathers, Inner Wisdom, that enticingly float and swirl just beyond everyday awareness.

Music – Tiny Feathers

Lyrics

Floating weightlessly behind my eyelids

Drifting ever-slowly toward my beating heart

Tiny feathers of a fleeting thought

Slipping calmly into rhythmic breathing

Matching beat for beat with my sacred heart

 

Floating weightlessly behind my eyelids

Drifting ever-slowly toward my beating heart

Tiny feathers, soft hints

What my Soul dares to dream

Dedication

This story and music are dedicated to Those who continually nudge us further and further into our sacred heart space

Credits

From album – Hold to the Heart
Track released – June 1, 2022
Cheryl Martlage – Lyrics, Vocals and Production
Emerson Martlage – Music, Vocals and Production
Feather Image – Custom Generated by Gemini AI

Related Stories and Music

Eye Witness

We were reading a number of books about consciousness, among them were several by Ken Wilbur: “Boomeritis,” and “A Brief History of Everything,” as well as another book called “What Really Matters.” We also read (after having seen the movie) “What the Bleep Do We Know,” which led us to discover “Ramtha: the White Book” . . .

Each Cell

Following a visit to Madonna del Sasso Monastery near Santa Brigida, in Tuscany, we wrote this song. We had walked for about an hour up the steep, rocky trail between the monastery and town to reach that sacred site with unbelievable views into the Val d’Inferno. We could see our studio off in the distance, and the Castle Trebbio, down below . . .

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The quiet story—you know, the one that runs alongside the main one—attracts and inspires us.

We often set our sites on going somewhere “interesting,” or doing something “meaningful.” Those things definitely happen, but what we’ve discovered time and again is that there’s always an unexpected happening that shows-up along the way that we call the “quiet story.” And it’s the quiet one that usually stays with us and means the most.

Dario Cecchini

On a beautiful day in Tuscany, we decided to drive an hour south of Florence to the small town of Panzano for lunch at the restaurant, Officina della Bistecca (workshop of the steak). The owner is Dario Cecchini, who has earned the reputation of being the most famous butcher in all of Italy. That’s quite a statement. He’s been included in some American cookbooks, is known throughout Italy and is a living legend. He’s tall, confident and out-going. His staff has been well trained in the sweet art of conviviality (cheerful and attentive). Dario has such a large personality that when he enters the room, everyone is immediately drawn to him. But here’s the thing—he’s a really nice, caring and generous man and it doesn’t take long to realize that.

Josh, Italian dreaming

We went to the Officina because we knew somebody who had taken an apprenticeship with Dario. Josh held a dream to study the fine art of butchery. Circumstances led him straight to Dario. He wasn’t alone. There were 4-5 apprentices there, from the four corners of the earth. Dario had said “yes” to each of them. He said “yes” to helping them follow their dreams. Josh was smitten with Italy and the Italian people, and rightly so. The only thing better than holding a dream is having it come true and it was happening right before our eyes.

As we sat watching the drama of the moment, Dario quietly stole away from the cheering diners to embrace and nuzzle the face of his older brother Stefano. I don’t think anybody noticed besides us. We relish an endearing expression of affection. After all, what we enjoy most is the quiet story.

Related Video

This short video will give you a glimpse into Dario Cecchini’s world. Going to Panzano is one of those experiences you’ll never forget. When you get to the part where Dario is holding up a bistecca In each hand he is proclaiming that “To beef or not to beef, that is the question.” The crowd roars with approval!

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Disney Pinocchio

The Adventures of Pinocchio is a classic, right? Disney put the marionette on the big screen in 1940 and Jiminy Cricket became an overnight success. But the real story is from Italy, Tuscany, to be exact. It symbolically represents Italy, as it grew into a unified country.

So we decided to read the book, first penned by Carlo Collodi in 1883—in its original language, as they say—Italian. Little did we know that our simple decision would be such a task. We decided to read one chapter a day. Pretty good, right? Well, no, when you consider that the average chapter is only about 5 pages long, and that includes pictures!

Our Pinocchio kit

Here’s our routine: we have an English version that we keep handy to check our translations; we have an Italian version in which Emerson writes copious notes (definitions, idiomatic phrases, verb forms etc.); I also have the original Italian version on an iPad; together, we use 2 dictionaries and one verb book; and finally, we access a translator online called, My Translator. Once we have our pile of books, pencils, erasers and various accoutrements, we begin just after lunch each day with a strong sense of anticipation and determination..

Pinocchio fully notated

Emerson reads the chapter title, for example, Pinocchio è derubato delle sue monete d’oro e, per gastigo, si busca quattro mesi di prigione. Translation: Pinocchio is robbed of his coins of gold and, for punishment, is put in prison for four months. Now, we think this is more than a regular title. A title is something like, “A Day at the Beach.” You know, there’s some over-arching topic that captures the essence and your attention. But the Pinocchio chapter titles are spoilers. They tell you what happens BEFORE you read it. Then Collodi goes into all the details of how the chain of events took place, but you already know the poor marionette is going to prison.

In the pokey

The other thing about the title is that we look up nearly every word. For example, Derubato. Oh, it’s a verb and this is the past tense. Okay. Monete. Oh, coins. D’oro. This is a common contraction. The word di means of. When it’s placed before a word that begins with a vowel, you leave out the i because, heaven forbid you put two vowels together! Okay, got it. Di oro = d’oro = of gold. Well, you get the picture. Every chapter is a language lesson as well as a lesson in logic. Why would Pinocchio go to prison? He was robbed. Well, the logic here is that if you’re foolish enough to be duped, you deserve punishment. Really?!

Actually, the Italian culture and thought process is something quite unique. The stories they concoct and the way they choose to say it, are nothing short of original art—funny and entertaining, yet thought-provoking at the same time.

Taccini ceramic

When we first discovered that Pinocchio is Italian, we went to a town west of Florence called Montelupo (which means wolf mountain), where an artist named Eugenio Taccini lives and works creating unique ceramic pieces. He’s well known for his depictions of Pinocchio. In fact, he actually made pieces of artwork for each of the chapters, exploring their deep psychological meanings. It became a form of therapy for him as he dove into the hidden messages. As an Italian, he wanted to use the original story to explore the process of change and transformation. Beneath the external beauty of Italian life, love and laughter, there are many deep thinkers pondering something profound and meaningful.

Pinocchio’s home town

Then we decided to make a trip to Collodi, the town where young Carlo Lorenzini spent summers and from which he took his pen name. Collodi is now known as the town of Pinocchio. There are restaurants named for those in the book. There’s an amusement park for children with all things Pinocchio. But in addition, there’s an amazing hillside baroque park called Garzoni Gardens. It’s considered one of the most beautiful gardens in all of Italy. It’s another example of the paradox that underlies Italian thinking: the whimsical, childlike attitude juxtaposed with the heady formal, compelling, meticulously planned.

So we’re on chapter 21 in the book. My bookmark only jumps a few pages a day. But, for the first time, I’m beginning to understand Pinocchio on multiple levels. As you might expect, the original is much more earthy than the Disney version. He’s more real. And that’s just the wood marionette. I can hardly wait to see how the world changes when seen through the eyes of a real boy.

First posted on October 1, 2011

Related Story

Reading the Yogurt Cups: Pinocchio is perhaps one of the earliest “Psychological Thrillers” ever. No story is any more psychologically rooted than that classic. This other story about yogurt cups is much more straightforward, but holds its own human potential

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Henri in his studio

His full name is Henri Marie Raymond de Toulouse-Lautrec-Montfa, but most of us know him simply as Toulouse-Lautrec. He was an artist known for his renditions of the life he lived and observed, as well as for his diminutive stature. Due to a genetic weakness that rendered his bones brittle and vulnerable, he unfortunately broke both legs when he was a young boy. The result was a disturbing stunted appearance. Ever self-conscious about his physical imperfections, he found himself most at home with common people who had their own obvious flaws. He was especially drawn to the fascinating theatrical lifestyle of Paris in the late 19th century, even though, as his hyphenated name suggests, his family had deep aristocratic roots.

Playful self portrait

Toulouse-Lautrec became a famed artist, printmaker, master caricaturist, draughtsman and illustrator during his short life (1864 to 1901). He was also a gourmet food lover who invited his guests to dine with him via formal, artistic invitations. He even described the anticipated menu and commented that a meal was very similar to any other artistic expression—full of color, in both the foods and the guests. Meals and people were meant to be savored and shared. He often directed conversation to inspire lively exchanges.

Can-can dancers

Lautrec’s many associations in the vibrant milieu of Paris’ Montmartre district allowed him simultaneous front row and backstage views of that world of wonderfully “imperfect people,” like him. He was deeply immersed in the imagery of decadence—empathizing with the every-day plight of the working-class characters swirling around him, performing in the theaters. The famous Moulin Rouge (Red Mill) drew boisterous crowds, Lautrec interpreted them to be willing subjects, part of the “show.” The frenetic energy of the “can-can” invigorated the audience. Brothels of the area added to the attitude of decadence and pleasure. Lautrec enjoyed all of it, leaving a colorful, artistic “journal” for us to understand and appreciate his contribution to a rapidly evolving world of art. Although Lautrec enjoyed success and notoriety while he lived, he was destined to succumb to his circumstances and choices. An illness abruptly ended his life when he was merely 37 years old.

Ospedale

We think Toulouse-Lautrec would have found this exhibit to be the perfect expression of his artistic flair, since it was such a unique presentation. The historic corridors of the space were transformed into Parisian passageways that transported us back in time. Anchoring one side of the Piazza Santissima Annunziata, the beautiful Renaissance “Ospedale degli Innocenti” was the perfect choice for the exhibition. The 1419 architectural masterpiece was conceived by Fillipo Brunelleschi as a Children’s Hospital and Orphanage to support and care for the children abandoned during the Florentine Renaissance. (Brunelleschi also designed the famous dome of Florence’s grand cathedral—il Duomo.) The contrast of the exquisite historical building with Lautrec’s avant-garde style accentuated both.

Seeing 19th century art with 21st century eyes has become “normal,” yet to have that experience in a 600 year old architectural gem seems almost miraculous.

Stock Photo

Coming back outside into the brilliant Florentine sunshine, after having spent a 90 minute immersion into the late 19th century underbelly of Parisian cabaret life was a bit shocking and overwhelming. We had just glimpsed inside the life and mind of one of the world’s most influential artists of the late 1800s.

Following is a video of a “passageway experience” within the exhibit, along with a few amateur snapshots of his masterful work. Notice how accurately he captured the essence of a complex personality with a single, delicate line of the face, the audacious glint of an eye, or the subtle slant of an expressive black hat—absolutely fantastic!

Passageway Video

Cabaret Video

Gallery

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On a backroad between Borgo San Lorenzo and the small town of Polcanto, in Tuscany, just north of Florence, an unknown artist has taken an open, sunny patch of meadow and created an outdoor exhibit, a seemingly permanent Art Gallery of sorts. Each unique piece is weathered and worn, allowing the natural patina to be the final artistic touch. The exhibit appears to be a dynamic, additive process, with some pieces showing more age and weathering mirroring the passage of time (perhaps years), while others seemed like more recent additions.

Two of the sculptures were quite detailed and complex, using a very modern-day material, Corten steel (a special alloy that forms a stable external layer of rust). The large heart-shaped steel plates were incised with the first stanza of the Rumi poem: Ode 314—which offers commentary on our choice of living our lives “asleep” or “awakened.” He suggests that life is to be lived with intention and reflection. Without judgment, he suggests that the alternative is simply sleep. He even advises against disturbing this sleep. It’s sort of a live and let live perspective. Perhaps he’s posing the question of readiness. But clearly his choice is to take the way of intention. The first stanza is shown below.

In stark contrast, another sculptural piece is in the form of a collage. Another, is a fluttering collection of random neck ties, suspended from the branches of an oak tree. Do the ties relate to the steel heart? Or to the other pieces? Are these expressions from the same artist, or is this an open invitation to anyone who feels inspired? Either way, it is compelling enough to warrant a closer look from any passersby, either on foot or enjoying a peaceful drive on a typical Tuscan side road.

Signature?

We found what could be an artist’s name in only one location, but couldn’t verify it. So, this “pop-up gallery” appeared to be a relatively anonymous gift offered freely without recognition or reward. All we know about the prolific creator(s) is the number 46 adjacent to a gravel drive that disappears down the hillside. We wonder what lies at the end of that ordinary country drive. One day, we might take a walk down that meandering road to see what’s at the other end. If we discover more to this story we’ll definitely let you know.

Side Note: A few days before discovering this Roadside Gallery, we visited the Palazzo Strozzi exhibit in Florence, viewing the collected work of Fra Angelico—what a fascinating contrast to the Roadside Exhibit.
To read that story, go to Perspectives: Immersion Into Religion Through Art.


Gallery of Roadside Art

Broken Heart of Rusted Steel (Right Side – Poem by Rumi)

Ode 314 (First Stanza)
Those who don’t feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don’t drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don’t want to change,  
let them sleep.  

Broken Heart of Rusted Steel (Left Side – author unknown)
The last stanza – translated from the original Italian version:

Imagine utopia
Dream of Ithaca and hope the road you choose is long
Live in the moment, the emotion, the desire
Now.