A Room with David

 When the words were exchanged not too many people around knew what was being said. But it was clear there was anger in those words. One gestured- the other gestured back, and then it looked like it would settle down and the evening would carry on. Then one final insult had to have been made and they started fighting in the street.

I thought back to watching the film, ”Room with a View “and remembered the scene where a fight breaks out in the square between two men, and how it ends with one of them pulling a knife and the other one dying.  And here in front of me I was watching the scene of the movie unfold. And remember thinking as I watched the film what got these men so upset in the first place that one ends up dying?

But in the Florence square where I sat watching, the outcome was thankfully much different. Suddenly they stopped, gathered their things and left. The police then came around the corner and everyone and everything resumed to normal.

It is hard to know where to go from describing this and onto something else? How do I easily transition into something else, I am not really going to try, since I feel my time in Florence doesn’t have a flow to it neither will this. I have bits and pieces that I remember from different days. The fight was yesterday.

Exploring the streets was Sunday.

Gathering food and planning a meal was Monday.

Today was David.

When it comes to famous pieces of art, for myself I always question why is it famous? Will I actually like it? Or has it been burned into my brain that I should. I thought of this when I saw the Venus De Milo and the Mona Lisa and now I would be judging David.

One thing I will say that David has that the Mona Lisa lacks is size. There is no question that when you walk into the room David is at the centre and demands that you too look at him. Even though he will never look at you. For it’s ironic that David is the hero who defeated the giant, and right away you are at the feet of a giant though it is not Goliath.

I walk around him as do most, and look up his body. There is nothing modest about it. Then I step back and take a seat and stare even more, and realize the part I love the most about David is his right hand. How perfectly real it is. The veins that crawl to each of his fingers, and the muscle underneath the stone curving the fingers inwards to the body. That is what I love most about David.

His body breathes, and his veins flow with blood.

I look to his face, and take my hand and hold it up in front of me. I use my hand to mask his face from his body then replace it. I do it again. I don’t know what to make of his face? A part of me likes the sculpture better without it. For when I hide his face from view I see his body living and breathing. When I give him back his head, he is stone that will never move, just always looking off into the distance.

I then think about the man that modeled for this sculpture and how he is an unknown.. How many hours he must have stood, so Michelangelo could complete a masterpiece, and that when it was finally completed, the model could look at himself see how he would be as a giant, either like it or not, walk away and be immortal.