Milan felt quite sophisticated, as one might expect from a city known as a center for finances, couture and opera. The men and the women were spectacularly dressed. It was as if every sidewalk was a runway.
A highpoint of Milan was our climb to the top of the roof of the Duomo di Milano, the Milan Cathedral. Begun in 1368, the catyhedral took six centuries to complete. It was a surprisingly easy climb considering we ascended 250 feet to reach the parapet. There is no better view of Milan. Martin and I circled the multiple levels again and agin and still there was no way to take in the 3,300 statues, gargoyles and spires
This sculpture by Michaelangelo, his last, moved me greatly. He worked on it up until his dying days. This is the third iteration, Michelangelo having hacked at the marble block until nothing remained of the origial sculpture but Christ’s (disembodied) right arm. This is such a departure from others of his work. This was haunting. The facial features are blurry. It feel like a piece in progress, unfinished, hazy.
Naturally, one assumes that Mary is mourning her dead son’s body, and undoubtedly this is what inspired Michaelangelo. But what if she is being carried on her son’s back? What if she is so bereft she cannot manage to walk another step? It got me thinking how, in one way or another, we all carry upon our backs the pain and tragedy of those who have come before us.
Photos courtesy of Debra Darvick