Waking up to the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella (The Duomo) outside the window of our AirBnB in Florence never got old. I expect it never would have.
I first visited The Duomo with my grandparents when I was 12. We admired the green and pink marble exterior, Ghiberti's baptistery doors (there is a replica of these Gates of Paradise at the Nelson Atkins museum), the comparatively stark interior that lifts into Vasari's fresco, and then we descended into the crypt below.
I remember it vividly, but couldn't appreciate at the time the impossibility of the dome that sits on top of it all. My Grandpa bought me a book about the architecture of Brunelleschi's Dome, but I regret that I never finished it. I recently righted that wrong and read about the construction of, in my opinion, the most beautiful Catholic Church. The toil and failures that led up to the finished masterpiece are incredible. It took decades to complete and yet the Florentines saw it as a worthwhile endeavor.
The rise of the Medici family financed the city's support of the most brilliant artists and scientists of the 15th-17th centuries. The innovation and scientific advancements were so profound, it made many uncomfortable. I can't help but wonder if one example, the persecution by the Catholic Church of Galileo and his discovery that the Earth revolves around the Sun, is now reflected in his embalmed middle finger displayed in a museum.
The amazing thing about Florence is that The Duomo and the Galileo Museum are just two of so many must-see sights. The historical, scientific, and architectural sights appeal most to my left brain thinking, but my sweet Elsie is artistic and creative and we couldn't wait to expose her to so much more. The Uffizi Gallery, L'Accademia, and all the palazzi tied to the Medici family can keep you busy for weeks (and you have to buy some tickets weeks ahead).
There is almost too much artistic beauty to take in. It's so spectacular, it can be overwhelming. This is such an accepted phenomenon that there is actually a medical condition tied to it-Stendhal Syndrome, or Florence Syndrome. I've also read it referred to by locals as The Tourist Disease. It's a psychosomatic (mental and physical) reaction to staggering beauty. Heart palpitations, fainting, and hallucinations are the manifestation of looking upon Florence's artwork, architecture, and antiquities. Because we were in Florence for a month, I was worried that we were at high-risk;)
I first read about Stendhal Syndrome in the 44 Scotland novels by Alexander McCall Smith. One of the characters (Antonia) visits Florence and develops it after a day of sightseeing. She promptly is transferred to a convent in Tuscany to convalesce. If you've ever read McCall Smith's books, you will know that the whole situation made me laugh out loud. If you are ever in need of heartwarming books that make you smile, read any of his (especially the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency). But I digress.
On our first trip to the Uffizi Gallery and after an influencer taking selfies was finished finding her perfect angle, I was able to stand right in front of Botticelli's Birth of Venus. It is one of the most famous paintings at the Uffizi Gallery (which is saying something). I took time and admired it. I really tried to be present. I asked myself how I would describe it. Glowing? Feminine? (Don't send me mean messages if these adjectives are all wrong-I have no idea what I'm talking about). I liked it. Actually, I loved it; but, I couldn't easily articulate why.
We had a family pass to the Uffizi Gallery and went there often right when the doors opened (see my post about summer heat in Tuscany). We stood in the queue to get in. Next was security, which was so rigorous that Henri once accidentally walked through the metal detector with his backpack on and the security guard didn't even look up from his phone! Is this thing even on?! Then we joined the train of people snaking through the ground floor construction and eventually ended up at multiple flights of stairs to the museum itself. We would sprint ahead of any massive groups to find an opening where the kids could actually see the art.
We moved through the Uffizi as if strolling through a park. We walked slowly, but enjoyed the art without often stopping- except for brief pauses when in the presence of Botticelli, Michelangelo, and da Vinci (no selfies though). The hallways are one of the most memorable parts of the Uffizi Gallery. The ceilings are an exhibit on their own and the marble statues lining the windows have an arresting effect. We were usually out of the museum in 90 minutes.
We didn't deeply research the artwork in the Uffizi Gallery or anywhere else in Florence in the same way I voraciously read about The Duomo. We didn't educate ourselves much about the artists (except da Vinci—the kids and I learned a lot about him in school). We didn't compare and contrast the countless versions of Madonna con Bambino. We just liked being around it all. We surrounded ourselves with it without diving in. I couldn't marvel at the paint strokes like I could the math needed to lift Brunellesci's dome, but I still couldn't look away.
We visited dozens of museums and churches in Florence, all filled with overwhelmingly spectacular art and yet never developed Stendhal Syndrome. I guess ignorance of art and art history is protective.
Just when I though we were in the clear, I sat down outside the Uffizi for my daily Italian cappuccino. I looked at my mug, the foam, and took my first sip. My heart started to race a bit. There might be some truth to Stendhal Syndrome after all. If so, Florence is worth it.
Thanks for reading. Wishing you all a day filled with beautiful things that make your heart skip a beat.
Love,
Steph