Being naive to opera is a wonderful thing. As someone who adores it, but not having memory heavily invested in it, allows one to still be able to be surprised. Listening to SiriusXM last Sunday morning, Met Opera Radio was playing a 2004 performance of Levine's "Italiani d'Algeri" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27italiana_in_Algeri. The performance was filled with obvious delight, the lilt of voices and their interplay was infectious. I look forward to exploring it more via a used DVD - the 2004 may not be available but there is a 2007 version out there somewhere.
The play, as best I can guess, is a comedy based upon the whims of the Turkish Bey (or regional chieftain), who wants to love an Italian girl. There is an elaborate intertwine of the sexes, with the focal point the beautiful (and Italian) Isabella. Her true love is for Lindoro. And, in true comedic style, despite things looking bleak, Isabella and Lindoro connect at the end, with the Bey looking foolish and swearing off Italian women forever. (The full performance, though I question its value is available on YouTube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lb-EPcZD7SI ). Rossini's style with any of his libretto is passionate and fun http://www.emmedici.com/hobbies/musica/rossini/libretti/italiana0.htm, owing much to a tried and true formulae of material. Although this may lend itself to scrutiny, let's not forget the wealth of material and accomplishments this 'skill' provided!
Intrigued to read more about Rossini, one would find out that, as he was a foodie, a gastronomique, who would create a series of dishes bearing his name. Such a passion would lead to his death, but such richness in passion, food and music had to have been an exquisite time, while it lasted. http://www.sfcv.org/article/top-10-alla-rossini-recipes.
Outside of all this, reading deeper into wikipedia, I found that his body was interred at the Florence church of San Croce. Had I but known then! But looking back is a skill for the weak, so I'll not dwell. The beauty and grace of the church still lingers with me today...
Had my wife not been interested in getting a hand painted plate, from a little lean-to shop we happened to pass from another alleyway, I'm sure we'd have never entered the place. [In point of fact, the alley we had just exited was of purpose to get a hand-carved Pinocchio toy from a famous shop that has been there for centuries. I was dead set on getting a hand-carved wood toy, just stop me, but I have a very queer sense of what I need in life. I told myself I was happy to see it with my eyes, but I was explicitly not going to pay a few hundred dollars for a piece of wood. I am my father's son.] So, as my wife settled on a smartly painted plate that had warm colored accents upon its face, (it was not for eating! It was pointed out as mere decoration), the young lady mentioned that, if we had not gone to San Croce, that we needed to make sure to go. Perhaps she read upon our faces that we were devout Catholics, as I read the same on hers?
Either way, the church was right at the far end of the small square that we found ourselves. The white walls appeared a contrast of sorts, since it did seem to be much older than other immediate structures. Florence is a bright city of earth toned buildings By all means it is ancient to an American's mien, but, is well kept and could have easily been recent, if one did not have a sense of history.
Entering the church I don't know if I was too impressed. Work was being done to restore recent flooding damage, including one that, with supreme sadness, ate away at the bottom of the Crucifix that sat, very largely, above the alter. This was all taken in, but, as you get closer to the alter and the little niches that line it, I had to take a breath. Giotto! I was seeing actual, unmolestedly open access to Giotto. His work is a particular interest of mine, having recently converted to the Faith, so seeing his work, as not expecting to, actually made me pause a bit.
The works lined the very wall, the textures have context in mind's eye, having, of course, only seen photos. But, in person, the characters, the lines, the poses and the scale - it is pleasantly large - were a delight to the soul. I felt immediate connection to his works, now that they grounded to my memory. The stories sunk in of the subjects and I felt closer to the Biblical nature of the whole.
The question came, should I touch them? Of course I shouldn't, but I could and I wrestled with myself to do it. To say I did it, to remember I did it, to get a visceral question to my longing right here.
I didn't do it. I did the right thing, despite the fact they were...just...right...there. Oh, well, it was a great moment in Florence, among many others. To see Rossini's place (again, no idea at the time and overwhelmed by my favorite artist otherwise), I suppose I'll have to make a trip back. I'll touch Rossini's funerary, but I'll wrestle with Giotto's art I'm sure. http://www.museumsinflorence.com/musei/museum_of_opera_s_croce.html
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