An Italy of Contrasts

An Italy of Contrasts

PRIME – September 2014

From the quiet hills of Tuscany to the bustle of Rome

By Linda Cardillo
Special to PRIME

As a novelist in the midst of a literary project set in the Italian Renaissance, I expanded my research this summer beyond the piles of history books stacked on my desk and traveled to the source of my story – Tuscany and Rome. Although I am of Italian descent and have both lived and traveled in the birthplace of my grandparents, this trip surprised me with its beauty, secret riches, and unexpected glimpses into the lives of my characters.

My first destination was a castello perched on a hilltop southwest of Siena. I planned to start my trip in the countryside rather than the city as a way to “reset” my brain to a time and place that would have been familiar to the main characters in my novel, the poet Vittoria Colonna and her soulmate – artist, sculptor and consummate Renaissance man,

As my taxi climbed through wilderness on a crushed-stone road hovering over deep ravines dense with ancient trees and rampant vegetation, I breathed in air pungent with cedar and rosemary and mint. “Ecco!” said the taxi driver, pointing with a broad smile on his face to the sunlit glimpse of the castello through a break in the forest.

The Tenuta di Spannocchia is many things – the home of Americans Randall Stratton and Francesca Cinelli, who inherited it from her grandfather; a working organic farm that grows not only a lush variety of vegetables but is also restoring several threatened breeds of animals; a protected forest of 900 acres; and the site of a bed and breakfast and several villas that provide accommodations to both individuals seeking a respite from the stress and pace of the modern world and to educational and enrichment programs offered throughout the year.

I joined an eclectic mix of guests – writers, artists, and young families. Dinner was served every evening family style outdoors under a pergola, a delicious four-course meal prepared from the bounty of the farm. Conversation bounced from one topic to another as lives and stories were shared. The following days were a gentle mix of wandering, writing, eating, discovery, and simply being. I found myself open and ready to embrace the next phase of my journey.

On my fourth day in Italy I plunged into the artistic riches of Florence and discovered pockets of quiet splendor where I could imagine myself stepping back in time, surrounded not by hordes of tourists pressing forward to see a masterpiece, but by the spirits of the artists leaving their marks on the walls and canvasses. One of the things I love about Florence, a city where I once lived, is its accessibility. Being able to walk to nearly every important museum, church, and piazza, encouraged exploration and discovery of hidden treasures along the way – a fresh vegetable stall bursting with color as the sunlight hits it after an early-morning rain, or a solitary rower in a skull at sunset on the Arno. Three places in particular resonated with me: the Gozzoli Chapel of the Magi in the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, the cloister of San Marco, and the Laurentian Library.

On a Sunday morning at 9 am I was the only visitor to the Chapel of the Magi, commissioned from Bennozzo Gozzoli by Cosimo de Medici as a private sacred space but nevertheless reflecting the magnificence and pomp that signaled Medici wealth and power. Three of the walls are covered with frescoes depicting the journey of the Magi traveling to Bethlehem. The vibrant colors, the expressive faces (many of which represent the Medici family), and the complexity of the composition, filled with both distant vistas and detailed portraits, convey a stunning image of the tumult and pageantry of the time.

Equally peaceful was the serene Dominican cloister of San Marco, where every monk’s cell contained a contemplative fresco by Fra Angelico, whose iconic Annunciation greets visitors at the top of the staircase. In the midst of this tranquil beauty one could also find the cell, complete with his desk, of the monk Savanarola, whose Bonfire of the Vanities destroyed so much of Florence’s artistic heritage.

Michelangelo’s design of the Laurentian Library within the cloister of San Lorenzo was also a sacred space, a temple not of religion but of learning. The symmetry of its architecture and the simplicity of its scholars’ desks create a space in which one can imagine heads bent over ancient volumes. Everything about the room reflects a reverence for the knowledge accumulated there – the subtle colors of its stone walls, the carved edges of the desks, the soaring height, the graceful curve of the staircase rising to the reading room.
After Florence’s intimate spaces, the transition to the monumental in Rome was often breathtaking. Vistas from the Capitoline Hill, the Borghese Gardens, and the ramparts of Castel Sant’Angelo afforded different perspectives on the complexity and enormity of this ancient city. My research into the life of Roman Vittoria Colonna and her relationship with Michelangelo helped to narrow the focus of my visit to sites where they had lived, worked, and prayed – the Sistine Chapel, the Palazzo Colonna, a Michelangelo retrospective at the Capitoline Museum, and the Basilica of St. John Lateran.

The newly restored ceiling of the Sistine Chapel revealed new secrets in an atmosphere of quiet contemplation. Despite the large number of people, all with necks craned looking up, the chapel resonated with only a low murmur, as visitors respected the “Silencio” asked of them. Guides are not allowed to lecture in the chapel, and in fact, remain outside, so that visitors can experience the artistry and passion of Michelangelo’s vision without intervention. Although I have seen countless images of the Sistine ceiling, to see it in person was a revelation.

The Palazzo Colonna, where the centuries-old Colonna family still resides, is not one of the more famous of Rome’s attractions. But its collection of artwork (over 2,000 pieces acquired by generations since the 13th century) and its architecture convey a picture of how the family lived as they hosted Popes, Holy Roman Emperors, and battle-seasoned warriors.

Not far from the Palazzo, the Capitoline Hill rises, with its piazza, the Campidoglio, designed by Michelangelo. Within the Museo Capitolini, a rich compendium of Michelangelo’s work is on display until Sept. 14. In an unhurried, quiet environment, one can study the artist’s sculptures, including a dynamic unfinished “Prisoner,” and his earliest relief, “The Madonna of the Stairs;” read the poetry he composed for Vittoria Colonna; and view models of his architectural triumphs.

My final stop in Rome was the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the seat of the Pope as bishop of Rome, and also a church important to the Colonna family, whose family crest is imbedded in the central aisle of the nave and whose family chapel resounded with a spirited musical liturgy the day I visited. The Colonna Pope, Martin V, who is buried below the altar, began renovations to the ruined church when the papacy returned to Rome from Avignon. For this novelist, whose work has been immersed in the life of Vittoria Colonna for years, walking in her footsteps in her family’s church was the culmination of an extraordinary journey.

Linda Cardillo is the award-winning author of the critically acclaimed novels “Dancing on Sunday Afternoons” and “Across the Table,” short stories, novellas and nonfiction books. After graduating from Tufts University with a degree in American literature, she worked as an editor of college textbooks and then earned an MBA at Harvard Business School at a time when only 15 percent of the class were women. Armed with her Harvard degree, she managed the circulation of a magazine during its successful start-up, founded a catering business and then built a career as the author of several works of nonfiction. She then went on to teach creative writing at Drew University. Cardillo lives in western New England with her husband, her childhood piano and her mother's recipes.