The Unfinished Masterpiece

“If you ever find yourself bored, just look up,” Dr. Horner told us as we admired the surrounding artwork in the Ufizzi. I had heard this advice numerous times, but the reality of it had not truly set in until we arrived in Florence. It all became clear to me when I first caught sight of the Duomo. Asking to describe the dome in a few sentences is a cruel punishment to wish upon anyone. The dome stretched into the sky, forcing the sun to dance over it. It stood proudly amongst the unpainted clouds, paralyzing citizens to gaze at its magnificence. You’ve seen so many pictures of the near perfect sphere, but nothing can prepare you for the real image. A gold cross twinkled at its peak, reminding passersby of the building’s purpose. It did not take long for the days to blur together. We dove into attraction after attraction, how could I focus on only one design I liked? Yet even when we stopped in the churches, my mind could not sit still. The curved arches of the building climbed to the roof, taking the forms of roses, lilies, and even the branches of their former lives.

However, one piece of architecture weaved its way into the front of my mind every night before bed. The first museum we visited was “Opera Del Duomo”. A blend of French, Italian, and English intoxicated the rooms, but the sounds could not distract me from what I saw. Emotions ricocheted throughout the room from the bright colors. Statues of mourning for the present clashed with paintings of bright hope for the future. Bronze doors towered over me, each panel telling a story from Scripture. But above everything else was Michelangelo’s “The Deposition”. I stood in awe at the unfinished masterpiece as people brushed past me to the next exhibit. The statue sat alone in a museum room, with few staying to observe its distinct details and carvings. Dr. Horner explained how, in a fit of rage, Michelangelo tried to destroy the piece, pointing out the cracks and marks. Unfortunately, Michelangelo died before finishing the sculpture. Dr. Horner then shared the quote by Leonardo Da Vinci, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” The words burned into my mind, along with the image of Jesus’ body held by Nicodemus, Mary Magdalene, and the Virgin Mary. At first, the statement seemed too harsh. How could no art be finished? More importantly, how could so many ignore such a beautiful piece of art? I felt like I must be missing something in Da Vinci’s words.

Shortly after the museum, we began the arduous journey up to the top of Brunelleschi’s Dome through a winding staircase that was most likely not built for millions of tourists to fit into almost 600 years later. The steps were crooked and uneven, which perfectly matched the low-hanging ceiling. If you weren’t tripping up the steps, you were bruising your forehead. However, the view of Florence was more than worth it. A gentle breeze greeted everyone as we reached the top. Some were laughing in amazement while others remained speechless. A sand-colored landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by lush mountains and towers in the distance. Tourists down below scurried from sight to sight, their shouts emanating up to the dome. It was incredible to me that even hundreds of years later, so many tourists crowd the streets. What especially caught my eye while I was struggling back down the stairs was the many signatures scratched into the stones. “Why would people ruin the architecture like this?” I heard one tourist say. I couldn’t help but agree, but, again, I felt like I was missing something.

Our next stop was Ponte Vecchio, a stone bridge packed with shops and restaurants to lure in unsuspecting tourists. Gypsies raced across the bridge trying to take pocket change from anyone that would listen. The air was stained with the smell of oak and herbs from all the cigarette smoke. The river gurgled beneath us, as sweat trickled down our necks. I spotted more signatures and dates on the bridge, this time accompanied with padlocks. I still didn’t understand why people could ruin the city’s beauty with dirty signatures of their most likely failed relationships. Then my train of thought expanded to all tourism. Why do people keep returning to this city? What is it that they hope they will find? They flood the streets, meandering the city without purpose. They study the history and experience the culture, but what do they expect to gain?

I sat on the bridge and immediately came to the truth. They do not come to view the art; they come to be part of the art. The expansion of the Western world left the city of Florence forgotten for some time. The city is an artwork that was abandoned, but it was rediscovered because of its rich history and architecture. Florence has much more to reveal. Each inscription and tourist trap contributes to the greater story. And as long as people travel to Florence, the city will never be finished, nor will it be abandoned. Tourists desire to retain the same legacy that Florence possesses. They hope to be inspired by walking the same streets that the great minds of old walked and studying the art that they created until they too are part of the picture. The ultimate goal of every man is to make a name for himself. When he is gone, his name will either continue to thrive, or his life will just be another unfinished sculpture in a lonely museum room that few observe as they search for the next masterpiece.