One very early Wednesday morning in September 2020 I arrived in Florence from London. I took the tram to the station and after waving goodbye to the handsome tram driver, who had kindly and patiently waited for me at the airport while I struggled with the ticket machine, I proceeded to pull my large case through the old streets from the station to the Oltarno district where I had booked a room for one month.
It was a light-filled room with a view overlooking the Piazza Pitti and the Palazzo and my plan only to stay 4 weeks, ground myself, plan and explore this famous city that I had never visited before and then leave for the country to deepen my Tuscan adventure. I am a photographer, so the idea I arrived with was to photograph Tuscany, the artisans, and artists of the region. Tuscany is a place of dreams I felt, I had witnessed it through photographs and movies, the rolling hills and morning hazes to me were an invitation to dream.
So, on that September morning my Tuscan adventure began. It was still hot, the beginning of the end of the summer but after the year that we had all had, it felt almost like a soft and hopeful new beginning, certainly for me. Tourists, many less than normal, had arrived, and looked very much like they were enjoying the city, water mists cooled hot diners on the crowded piazzas and there was a feeling of waking from a dream or perhaps falling into one.
I walked around just taking it all in and had my daily view of the sunset from the Ponte Vecchio, only 5 minutes from home. I quickly gravitated towards the Uffizi and made friends with an artist there who became my first Florentine friend and a lovely sense of freedom began to overwhelm me. Of course, the presence of the tourists, even though that year there were many less than normal, was still a lot.
But it was the art of course that gave the highest vibration of the city with the architecture and the history every day offering a new vision to take it deeper and all that alongside the buds of the new art coming to life. The ancient sculptures, the Madonnas framed on street corners, the graffiti and the stencil art all offering their voices, sitting side by side. It was an enriching experience and one that I would spend many weeks trying to absorb and I still do.
So, I started to settle and was given the honour of being invited to join my Florentine friend and his friends for lunches at their local trattoria in Centro. This was good for my italian as well as for my sense of community and was an important step. The adventure was underway, and I started to feel at home. The month passed and I extended my time in the Oltrarno to a second month as I wasn’t ready to leave, an adventure was unfolding there.
Then, towards the end of October the news came that the region and most of Italy was going back into lockdown. I sat on The Loggia of the Palazzo Guadagni, my most happy place, where I had grounded myself on those first days in the city, watching the sunset. The next day the cafes and bars were closed by 5pm, then soon afterwards they would close all day and there I was locked down in Florence.
I remained there for the next 3 months watching Florence from my room, an empty Piazza and birds flying over the Palazzo to the comforting sound of the bells 6 times every day from the Duomo. I found that it was the most perfect way to hear the bells, just far enough away. So, my 4 weeks in Florence became 6 months and during this time I walked around empty streets, photographing Florence as we may never see it again. Vasari’s Corridor sat empty in the afternoon sun and outside the Palazzo Vecchio, Hercules looked over a deserted piazza.
There were armed soldiers guarding all the palazzos and they smiled when I walked by. I spent my birthday and Christmas alone but I didn’t feel very alone at all, it felt like the city held me and was somehow saying ‘its ok, don’t worry, you can stay, we will still give you nice sunsets and you won’t need to queue at the supermarket.’ It was true, I didn’t worry or queue at the supermarket and on Christmas day the sunset came as it did most days and the lights of the Christmas tree sparkled with an even deeper sense of magic in that moment.
Come the spring, I was finally able to travel out of the city and left Florence on a train heading south, witnessing the beauty of Tuscany passing by one rolling hill after another. I was travelling to Calabria to begin a project about the traditions of Italy, staying there for a few months, but was soon back in Tuscany to start the restoration work on an old 18th century villa right in the heart of the Chianti region that I had decided would be home. There I had found a sense of an old story awaiting to hold me whilst at the same time offering an invitation to tell my own story and be part of theirs, so without a thought it became home.
The dream of Tuscany is very real and the way you see it in the photographs and movies is very much the reality, these views are not filtered it just happens this way. Asides from the visual beauty, Tuscany is also like a precious invitation from an old friend. When you visit, even if only for a few days or a week, you may be invited to stay longer and many, like me, will do just that. You can leave any time, but it will never leave you.
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