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VPR's coverage of arts and culture in the region.

Henningsen: Learning To See

Central panel of the three-part Simone Martini Annunciation, Uffizi Museum, Florence, Italy

"[H]ere,” said the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland, “ it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!” For many that’s not fantasy – that’s life. And we try to escape it in long walks or silent retreats - anything to slow down. Recently I discovered that international travel offers a similar haven.That seems counter-intuitive. After all, foreign travel bombards us with new experiences, sensations, and people. World travelers imagine themselves as Indiana Jones: ready for anything. But I’m more like Indy’s companion Marcus Brody, the fumbling curator who got lost in his own museum. I’m increasingly deaf and have no gift for languages, so I’m rendered largely mute when I travel.

But having to rely heavily on one sense makes you slow down, and sharpens the others. On a recent visit to Florence, being both deaf and mute forced me to be patient and look.

I was viewing Annunciations, one of the most common themes in Medieval and Renaissance art: the Angel Gabriel interrupting the Virgin to proclaim that she will bear the savior. What’s fascinating - and requires looking closely - is the individuality each artist brings to the scene: from Donatello’s sculpted pair in the church of Santa Croce, resembling old friends chatting over coffee; to Fra Angelico’s innocent girl in the convent of San Marco, overcome with wonder that she’s been chosen. In the Uffizi, I marveled at Simone Martini’s petulant, frowning Virgin, recoiling from a nervous angel whose expression suggests that, though he might represent God’s will, things aren’t going particularly well. The artist, I decided, must have had a teenaged daughter.

The poet Robert Browning, who spent years in Florence, wrote

“[W]e’re made so that we love
First when we see them painted, things we have passed
Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see.”

I disagree. We’re not “made” that way. We become that way because, like the Red Queen, we’re moving too fast. If we slow down, we’ll better see and appreciate what’s in plain sight.

And we needn’t take a vow of silence or go to Florence for that.

 

Vic Henningsen is a teacher and historian.
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