Excursion to Florence: Bacchus

During my extended stay in England, I had ample time to realise that I should exploit being in Italy more. Between my work ethic and (almost) perfect attendance, I hadn't really been fulfilling the Erasmus student stereotype. Accordingly, I turned up two weeks late for the start of term. Mindful of the fear that I'm wasting the year, I hopped on the bus to Florence.









I was with my good friend M., who is also a classicist and doesn't mind when I'm bossy, so we went to the Archaeological Museum so I could ooh and ahh over the François Vase and then to the Bargello, because the statues are lovely and it's normally deserted. I meant to do the full tourist shuffle, but I got distracted by Michelangelo's Bacchus. He's just so beautiful and soft. For one thing, here's a Bacchus you can imagine being taunted as an effeminate stranger. Neither image conveys it well, but his mouth is open in a soft gesture - perhaps of recognition, but not of acceptance. His gaze is unfocused and distant, and he holds the cup in the air with a kind of casual insouciance, as if caught alone. He is delicate, but threatening - as if in a second, his gaze might clear, and his eyebrows narrow, and then the ground itself might shake. It taps into that wonderful incomprehensibility of things when drunk. He looks like someone you might bump into someone in a bar - perhaps you spill their drink a little - in their eyes is a split second of confusion, that moment where they are trying to understand what has happened, and no one can be sure if they are going to greet you with a cheery 'alright mate' - or punch you. It's the alcoholic equivalent of Schroedinger's cat. I find the only way I can look at something - really look at it - is to try and copy it for myself, so that's what I did. Apparently Shelley hated this statue, but then, I don't like him.

Anyway, posts should be back to normal soon. Between conferences, travelling, being in England, having exams and so on, my normally exuberant enthusiasm has been more subdued lately. I have lots of ridiculous anecdotes though, and some are even classics-related.