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THE STRESS OF STORMS David |
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THE STRESS OF STORMS David |
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MICHELANGELO
(1475-1564)
Michelangelo Buonarroti was born in Caprense, Italy,
on March 6, 1474. He was master of four noble arts:
sculpting, painting, architecture and poetry. In 1496, he moved to Rome, where
he sculpted two of his best works as a young man: “Bacchus” and the “Pietà”. He
returned to Florence in 1501 and engaged in a grand project by accepting a
challenge that no sculptor had dared to undertake before: to work on a marble
block, almost 165 feet high, that had been abandoned a century before in the
quarry of the Florentine duomo. Michelangelo sculpted the amazing statue of the
“David” as if he knew the figure had been inside the stone for ever.
From 1505 to 1512, Michelangelo was virtually enslaved by Pope Julius II, who demanded that he decorate the Sixtine Chapel. In 1563, on February 18, Michelangelo died and with him also died an entire age: the Italian Renaissance.
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DAVID
The dusty and millenary quarry of the Florentine “duomo” witnessed the steps of that Caprense young man with a fragile figure, strong arms and a slightly deformed nose, whose shadow had darkened the white terrain. There, the titanic marble block, avoided and loathed by all the sculptors because it superseded their ability, had been waiting undefeated for more than a century. Before this young man, nobody had ventured to accept such an uneven challenge. It was a battle: the huge mass with its abundant tonnage before the human challenger with his only true weapon, the chisel.
The dancing equinox light of March 21, 1501, shone over the mass as the sculptor sat to contemplate his rival at dawn.
The quarry workers arrived early and noticed the boy, who, undisturbed by the commotion, still watched the invincible block of stone.
“Giuliano, who is that young man?”
“That’s Buonarroti. I haven’t seen him here for a long time, seven years perhaps? Yes! I remember. Since Lorenzo de’ Medici, his benefactor, died. Let’s go, Vito, leave the madman to his madness, we have work to do.”
Buonarroti remained undisturbed while the moving of the sun erased the hours.
“Giuliano, what’s happening to that boy? I just can’t stop watching him. We already had luncheon and he still hasn’t moved an inch.”
“Oh, just forget about him, Vito! Haven’t you noticed that Florence has become the Meca of all the crazy men? Of all of them, maybe Leonardo is the most tolerable.”
Vito, who was a new worker at the quarry, had never seen one of these “crazy” men practice such a powerful ability to concentrate, a phenomenon equally incomprehensible to Giuliano, who contented himself with calling it madness.
The afternoon’s crooked light warned the workers of the end of their shift, and Michelangelo Buonarroti still sat in front of the threatening block, contemplating it with an immortal vision in his eyes.
At the exit Vito managed to sneak away from Giuliano and, curiosity triumphing over the fear that his friend had instilled in him, he headed towards the “madman”.
However, remembering what he had been told about what a dangerous fellow this was, Vito kept a cautious distance and from there he yelled at Michelangelo whose attention remained fixed on the immortal marble bulk, “What do you observe so much in that rough stone?”
“What stone?” answered Michelangelo, without stirring.
Surprised by this answer, Vito felt insulted and rushed towards the marble rock, kicked it and struck it while he yelled angrily at the sculptor, “This, this same stupid bulk that you have been staring at, like an outcast, all the god dammed day!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Michelangelo without taking his eyes off the marble block. And as he pointed at it he added, “What my eyes are admiring is far from being a rough stone. Here, blossoming within the marble, beats the impressive and majestic hero of a legend: a poet, a prophet, and the fearless conqueror of the Philistine giant.” And showing Vito his chisel, he added, “I will not leave Florence until I set his splendour free!”
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© Alberto Sibaja Álvarez. San José, Costa Rica
® The Stress of Storms
