It's been one whole week in Florence. I can't decide if it's going by fast or if it seems like I've been here forever. Even though I'm terrible at speaking Italian and I feel like such a tourist most of the time (and probably not a very good one), I love it here.
Thoughts on the first week of classes….
Batik – Love my professor (she’s so happy) and so excited to bring home some beautiful, hand-dyed silks. Already have my first project sketched and ready to go. I looked through books of former student works and some of them are so beautiful. Got to see some that were made by my wonderful art history professor back at HPU, Anna Piperato!
Photography – My professor, Romeo, is so caring and so excited about photography. There was something really minor wrong with my camera (thanks for letting me borrow it, Lindsey!) and our TA, Jon, took it to the camera shop for me because I didn’t have time (thanks, Italy, for closing EVERYTHING for a three hour lunch break every day) and have no idea how to get there. Thank God they didn't charge for the repair! Apparently it took the guy about thirty seconds to fix it. Going to shoot a roll of film on Sunday…I hope it’s not terrible.
Jewelry Design – A lot of women with saws and power tools. Need I say more?
Drawing – This class is a little intimidating. I’m trucking along, though. My teacher is English and I love his accent and his kind of raw sense of humor. My favorite parts of the class are when it gets quiet, except for the sound of pencils and charcoal running over paper. It’s kind of like the streets of Florence, when you’re walking around and everywhere you go you just hear footsteps and mopeds and ringing bicycle bells. I love the repetition, the musicality.
Everyone told me before I left that this was going to be a life-changing trip, that I would learn and change and grow into someone new. It would be nice to be able to share that kind of experience with whoever is out there reading this blog. So, I keep hoping I’ll have some epiphanic moment so that I can write something moving and make everyone reading think that I might be talented, thoughtful, or, at least, worth listening to. Instead, I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off (saw one of those at the central market today), trying to find art supplies and attempting to develop something that resembles a social life. As it turns out, Mexican food in Italy isn’t bad. I went to a Mexican restaurant tonight with some friends for quesadillas and margaritas and it was so delicious and so much fun…my favorite meal so far (the Italians might kill me for saying that). After all that, I had a waffle with gelato, covered in nutella (yes, that does exist). All I do is eat.
In between meals, though, I really have made some important realizations. They might seem obvious. The most important of these, to me, is one that I keep having over and over again: I am not alone.
"And He said, 'My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.'" Exodus 33:14
Realizing His presence and [trying to] just live in it, in awareness of it, really does give my heart a warm, safe place to rest. I am never so at peace than when I am in recognition of God’s presence. I would be lying if I said I never feel alone, because I feel that way quite often. More and more frequently, though, when I’m looking out across the Arno, standing in front of Giotto’s Maesta, or even just taking a hot shower, I have moments when I feel God’s presence. In those seconds [or minutes, or hours] I feel like I’ve got somewhere to just rest. Rest is good.
Off to Ravenna at 7am tomorrow to see some beautiful mosaics!
Buona notte, world. Get some rest.
……….
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