Some journeys sprout in the imagination, take root in the heart and finally blossom into reality. My trip to Florence in July of 2005 really began more than 2 years before when I envisioned my wildest, most impossible dream. I wanted to study painting in the heart of Italy, the seat of the Renaissance, my favorite historical period. The how, the practical, was something to be worked out later.

At the Society of Decorative Painters Conference in Tampa, I was awarded a scholarship that helped to make the dream a reality. When I arrived in Florence the day before my classes were to begin, I walked around in dazed amazement. I was finally, actually, there. Since my classes were in the afternoons, I had the mornings free to wander the museums, the palaces and the churches that housed some of the greatest collections of artwork in the world. Imagine for a moment, standing in a room with soaring ceilings that holds works by Michelangelo, DaVinci, Rubens, Bottecelli and countless other masters, together, in the same space, so that all you have to do is turn your head from one to the other and see works that you have only read about or seen pictures of in books. Look up to see the frescoed walls, the gilded panels, intricate plasterwork, the painted ceilings. Glance down at the inlaid marble on the floor. Can you hear it? The voices of countless artists saying “Look here at this expression of myself that I have left in the world for you to see. Hundreds of years ago I poured my joys and frustrations into this work—can you feel it?“  The experience was so overwhelming; I could only take it in for a few hours at a time. I wanted to remember it all, the colors, the forms, the light, the feeling of being surrounded by all that talent.

It is so easy to fall into the relaxed pace of Italy, where every meal is an event to enjoy, where a single cup of coffee can stretch into an hour enjoyed with new friends and conversation. My classes in the afternoon gave me a chance to draw on the inspiration of the morning. The classes were held in the center of the artisan’s district in Florence, at the studio run by Carlos Martelli, an accomplished guilder who does restoration work for the Uffizi. I was awestruck to observe works in various stages of repair leaning against the walls of the classroom.

The first week I studied decorative painting with Alison Bukhgalte, a Canadian who had remained in Italy after studying there and currently works in a bottega (workshop) painting reproduction furniture. She was a patient instructor and all the students worked at their own pace. We painted with caseins, a water-based paint that handles like acrylics except that the binder is softer and that makes the paint easier to move for the distressing process. Using line drawings provided by the teacher, we transferred the pattern with a charcoal rubbing on the back of the paper. What I would have given for some graphite paper! We basecoated, highlighted, shaded and did stroke embellishments. I was right at home. The most difficult part for me came when it was time to antique and distress the painting. I’d worked so hard at being neat and getting everything just right, and then it was out to the courtyard to throw tea and water on the painting and attack it with spatulas and a sponge filled with dirt.

If I had realized that I was going to study gilding with master gilder Carlo Martelli, during the second week of the course, I probably would have been paralyzed with fear. He was so patient with my fumbling attempts at both with the work and speaking Italian. I learned the time honored method of water gilding, first preparing the rabbit skin glue, the gesso, and the bole and finally applying it to the frames that would later be gilded.  I had no idea there was so much work involved before even beginning to apply the gold.  It takes as much skill as any other artwork and it was truly humbling for me to be so bad at it. I spent three days preparing one frame sanding, applying gesso, sanding, more gesso, more sanding, more gesso, applying the bole and finally gilding it. When one of Carlo’s studio assistants came to show me how to burnish with the agate, all my gold floated away on the Italian breeze. Back to the gilding process. I was determined to do better the second time around. In addition to water gilding, I learned to work with both gold and silver, embossing into the gold and incorporating some punchwork. I have a much greater appreciation for the frames around the artwork in the museums after my experience.

My only regret about the time I spent in Florence was that I had barely scraped the tip of what there is to learn about decorative painting in Italy. I will return in October of 2006. Some journeys don’t have to end.