Verona: Castelvecchio

Castelvecchio (literally: Old Castle) is an early Renaissance fortress built alongside River Adige in Verona. In many ways, it's a twin to Milan's Castello Sforzesca. Construction on both red brick castles began within four years of each other in the late 14th century. Both were built for the reigning family of that time - in Castevecchio's case, the Scaligeri. Like Castello Sforzesca, it was originally intended as a fortress, became barracks and training grounds for various foreign legions over the next few centuries, and today, it houses a museum.

Castelvecchio is home to a spectacular collection of northern Italian art, spanning from the Middle Ages to about the late 18th century. As you wander through the ancient fortress, pieces are organized chronologically, so you really get a feel for the evolution of Italian painting over roughly 1,000 years. The sculptures and paintings are displayed in a more liberal fashion than most museums - pieces are hung on the wall of course, but they are also suspended from the ceiling or stand alone in the middle of the room. The ability to stand centimeters from a fragment of fresco circa the 5th century made for a great experience in the museum... although I couldn't help but feel a bit wary of the many guards' constant eyes on my back as I snapped away with my camera.

Though photography was permitted, flash was not allowed - so I apologize for the terrible quality of the photos. That said, here is a selection of some of my favorite pieces in the collection.

"Christ with Peter and Paul", Pelegrinus, 730. Something that always puzzles me about the evolution of art in Italy - particularly sculpture - is how the portrayal of human bodies and faces can go from the classical perfection of ancient Rome to the cartoonish style shown here. For comparative purposes, here's Emperor Antonius Pius from about 86 AD - over 600 years before Jesus and his buddies up there. He looks a bit more realistic, in my opinion.

Unknown subject, unknown artist, circa 8th c.

Christ on the cross, unknown artist, circa 8th c.

"Battle of the Horsemen," Veronese painter, 14th c.

"Saints Gregory and Bartholomew," Tuscan painter, 14th c.

Unfinished portion of the "Coronation of the Virgin " fresco in the tomb of Aventino Fracastoro, unknown artist, 14th c.

"Thirty Stories of the Bible," from the convent of Saint Caterina, Veronese painter, 14th c. This comic-book style arrangement was a common form of storytelling in the Middle Ages.

"Presentation of Christ," Veronese artist, 14th c. You may have noticed that artists responsible for most medieval works are nameless and unknown. At best, only the city of origin and a date can be estimated. Compare this to Renaissance art and you'll see a stark difference. Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo, and Raphael were household names and cities took immense pride in what they created. From a historical standpoint, it's a testament to how the importance of art and its role in society has evolved over time. Tough luck for the medieval painters though, whose works are largely uncredited. 

"Polyptych of Boi," attributed to Altichiero, 1369. The prefix 'poly' means many, and 'tich' is the Latin term for wall, thus, polyptych means 'many walls.' Polyptychs are simply paintings made up of many panels. Most polyptychs served as altarpieces which were decorated on both sides, so when the altarpiece closed, an entirely different scene was shown. Though not a part of the Castelvecchio collection, the "Ghent Altarpiece" by Flemish painter Jan Van Eyck is a beautiful example of this. It's also the source of relentless studying in my attempt to memorize each panel's subject matter for an exam. At the time, of course, I thought to myself, "When will I ever use this information again!?" But look, I've accurately identified a polyptych! Dad, that tuition money was worth it after all.

View when opened...

...and closed. 

"Madonna and Child," unknown artist, 1345 AD

"Crucifix," Jacopo Bellini, 1464. Bellini is not as glamorous or well-known as his famous Renaissance counterparts, but he was responsible for bringing the early Renaissance style of painting from its birthplace in Florence to northern Italy.

"Saint John the Baptist and Saint Michael, Archangel," from the workshop of Zavattari, 1456.

"The Legend of Orpheus," German painter, 16th c. Orpheus was an ancient Greek musician and poet who had a legendary ability to charm all living things with his music. In this particular portrayal of his musical finesse by a German painter, the human form has made a bit of progress compared to some of the previous examples. Yet, the animals and landscape still have an unnatural feel to them. The artist has also made a valiant attempt at perspective, but the overall affect is still somewhat strange to our modern eye.

"Ancona Fracanzani," (translation?) Giovanni Badile, 1373. Mary, why so dour?

"Augustus and Sybil," Giovanni Maria Falconetto, 1501. 

"Deposition of Christ," Liberale da Verona (literal translation: a liberal from Verona, but in this case it's the artist's actual name), 1479. Deposition of Christ is an image that you can find everywhere in medieval and Renaissance art. It's a common religious theme - the removal of Christ from the cross - and has been portrayed by countless artists. Popular 'themes' such as this make it easy to compare techniques between two paintings of the same subject matter from different time periods.

"Sphere of the Trinity," Francesco Morone, 16th c.

Unknown title, unknown artist, unknown date - because I forgot to record it. Probably late 16th century.

"Salome," Unknown artist, mid 16th century. No, Salome does not refer to a man's decapitated head being likened to salami. Rather, Salome is the name of King Herod's daughter, and the unfortunate head belonged to St. John the Baptist. As the story goes, St. John was imprisoned by Herod after chastising him for divorcing his wife. On Herod's birthday, his daughter Salome performed a dance for him, which he liked so much he promised her anything she wanted. Naturally, she asked for St. John's head on a platter. This is another biblical image that's duplicated often; this is probably the sixth or seventh time I've seen it around. Yet I had never heard this story before coming here, seeing paintings of it everywhere, and finally looking into it. I'm no fan of the bible, but I'm not sure how a decapitated St. John could have escaped the general scope of my religious knowledge. I mean come on, the man's head is just casually on a plate!

"Deposition," Paolo Caliari, late 16th century. Another example of the deposition image, but painted nearly a hundred years after the first one I showed:

Same image - subtle differences. Faces in the latter painting look more realistic, more mournful. Christ's body is more detailed and more muscular, showing that advances in basic anatomical knowledge had been made. The background is shown more realistically as well; the subjects and the landscape are almost on the same plane in the first painting, whereas the subjects are clearly the focal point and the landscape is clearly in the background in the second.

"Christ Shown to the People," Paolo Farinati, early 17th century. It's fairly evident that this painting is much better than the first few I've shown. (Technically speaking, at least. Let's not get into that silly argument about what defines works of art as "better" or "worse.") You can see the tension in Christ's body and can get a good sense of feeling and movement. The idea of perspective is carried out well to give the viewer the feeling that they are in the painting rather than just looking at the painting, like in this previous example from nearly 300 years prior.

When we think of our modern world, we often find ourselves wondering, "What did people do before cars? Or cellphones?" Sometimes I wonder, "What did people do before perspective?" Really, what were people's reactions when they saw their faces portrayed with buggy eyes and abnormally large foreheads? How did the ability to properly duplicate a human face on canvas (or in stone) evolve?  How were techniques like perspective and angles and shadowing discovered?

While I don't have the answers to those questions, I do know that very few people find them as fascinating as I do. So, if you've stuck with me to the end of this post, I thank you.

Lake Como: Castello di Vezio

The second thing I wanted to make sure I saw in Varenna was Castello di Vezio. Unfortunately, due to my inability to properly read a map, I spent nearly two of my remaining three hours in Varenna walking in circles, trying to locate the start of the trail up to the castle. I had just admitted defeat and decided to spend the last hour or so with a cup of coffee Clooney on the lakeshore when I spotted a small sign with an arrow pointing up a hill. "Mule Trail to Castello di Vezio," it read.

Well, there it was! Just a quick little trot up this mule hill and I'd be standing in the ruins of an ancient castle. I glanced at my watch - I had exactly one hour before I had to catch the train back to Milan. That didn't give me much time in the castle, but I just couldn't leave without seeing it. I figured I would be fine; Rick Steves' Italy guide had mentioned that the trail was an "easy, twenty minute hike," and besides, I was a fast walker.

Well.

This is the first and likely the last time I'll ever say this, but Rick Steves led me astray. While my journey up the mule trail was indeed only twenty minutes, it was easily the worst twenty minute walk of my life. I realized almost immediately that I had a daunting task ahead of me: the hill was quite steep and made of cobblestones, many of which were loose. Even so, this might have been fine - a bit tiring perhaps, but fine - in tennis shoes. But I was wearing a dress and heeled boots. Not ideal hiking attire.

Five minutes into my ascent I was tired and sweating. Ten minutes in I was cursing silently for choosing to wear those boots. Fifteen minutes in and I was now cursing out loud, and the last five minutes were spent stringing profanities into a bleak marching tune.

Finally, I made it. Red faced, sweating, and out of breath, I reached the top of the hill just in time to watch a tour group clamber off a bus that had clearly just driven up the godforsaken hill I just climbed. This castle had better be good, I thought grimly.

Well, the castle itself left a bit to be desired; it was really just remnants of the stone foundation and a bell tower.

But what can you expect from a nearly thousand year old structure? The land on which it was built is documented to have been of strategic importance for the Romans dating back to the 4th century BC. However, evidence of the castle itself doesn't appear in any records until the early 13th century, when Varenna was under seige by Como and its residents took refuge in the castle.

To my untrained eye, I would guess it was built well before that; perhaps around the 9th or 10th centuries, and likely only used as a lookout point or fortress of sorts, not as a residence. In any case, a mere skeleton of what must have been an impressive structure is all that remains today.

What does and always will remain as impressive as ever is the incredible view. Tiny little towns and boats dot the land and the water below, and the Swiss Alps make for a fantastic skyline as you gaze out from behind the crumbling castle walls. If you climb to the top of the tower, it's even better. I gave myself five minutes of uninterrupted, blissful solitude on top of the tower as I took in the view.

I snapped back to reality when I realized I had thirty minutes to descend the treacherous mule trail and get back to the station. I practically ran from the castle to the trail, took a deep breath, and began the dangerous journey. I'm not over exaggerating when I say I rolled both ankles twice and stumbled almost constantly on the way down. It was much more difficult to descend the steep hill in heels and I was strongly considering just taking them off and running down barefoot when I caught sight of a familiar building. I was nearly there. I made it to the train station with a few minutes to spare, only to discover that the train was delayed by about twenty minutes.

So besides wearing comfortable shoes if you visit Varenna and plan to see Castello di Vezio, make sure you have enough time. The view from the top of the tower is really quite incredible and I wish I had given myself a bit longer to enjoy it. I also wish my feet weren't covered in blisters, but hey, sometimes sacrifices must be made.

Castello Sforzesco

Even if you know nothing about Italian history, you've probably heard one of these names: Medici, Borghese, or Sforza. These powerful families were prominent in their respective kingdoms of Italy between the 13th and 17th centuries. The Medici were centered around Florence, Borghese in Siena, and the Sforza ruled the Milanese kingdom. Quiet evidence of their importance in Milan's history can be found all around the city in the form of random portraits.

The fortress in Milan that is known today as Castello Sforzesco (or simply the Sforza Castle) was originally built for Galeazzo II Visconti, a local lord in the late 1300's. The completed structure served as a residence for other Visconti lords up until 1447. 

In 1450 during the rise of the Sforza dynasty, Francesco Sforza began to rebuild the 14th century fortress into the castle it is today, complete with 7 meter thick walls, four towers and interior decoration by Bernardino Zenale and Leonardo da Vinci. 

The castle remained in use and was in fact enlarged under Spain and Austria's rule of Italy in the 16th century. When Napoleon briefly conquered Italy in the beginning of the 19th century, however, much of the castle was destroyed. In the early 20th century, the enormous structure was utilized as storage for weapons and such, and the surrounding area was turned into military training grounds. 

Today, the castle is a fraction of the size it once was, and the ground used to train WWII soldiers has become the beautiful, relaxing Parco Sempione. You could easily spend hours wandering around the courtyard and cloisters of the castle; entrance is free and the gates are always open. The interior is home to a number of museums about the Sforza family and the castle's history - but I've saved those for a rainy day. 

Parco Sempione extends north behind the castle and boasts a number of statues and picturesque grassy knolls, but the best part is the massive Arco della Pace near the end. 

If you decide to pay Sforza Castle a visit, I do have one warning: beware the Men Selling Cheapo Yarn Bracelets to Feed the Children of Africa. They creep up alongside you unnoticed until you realize that a flimsy bracelet made of horrifically clashing colors has been tied tightly around your wrist. As an avid fan of wearing hundreds of mismatched yarn bracelets at once, I had a naively excited reaction when I saw I now had a bracelet from Milan to go with the ones I've collected from elsewhere in the world. I thanked the man and started to walk away when another man (or maybe the same one?) materialized in front of me demanding to know how much I would pay to help the children of Africa. "Five euro? Six?" He asked. Seeing no way out, I told him that I too was a starving child, gave him one euro and boldly continued on my way despite his protests. 

These Cheapo Yarn Bracelet men are actually all over the city, along with Long Stemmed Red Rose men and of course, Fake Prada and Gucci Purse men, but they seem to really congregate around Sforza Castle. The moral of the story is: don't be so caught up staring at the glorious bell tower that you fail to notice the fifty yarn bracelets now secured around your wrists.