"Il Duomo"

Don’t worry. This is not a religious post.

I’m not religious. Can’t really admit to being a believer. But I certainly respect those who are.

It just never really worked for me, religion that is. And that’s not to say I’m not spiritual, though that sounds a bit squishy. A little too much hippie. The incense, crystals, moonbeam crowd. I can appreciate a good moonbeam now and again, but spiritual isn’t it either.

Let’s just say that everything we didn’t know 3,000 years ago, we now know and we are no longer afraid to learn endlessly. I’m more of that crowd.

And that’s not to say I haven’t prayed. I mean down on your knees prayed. I think I did that twice. Once, while stranded in a blizzard on the southern slopes of Kilimanjaro and once while being marched off to a West African jail cell.

Even then, the prayer was quite short, abrupt really.

“Please, God!” “Please, oh please, oh please, God!”

Thinking back on it now, I’m not sure I expressed the proper sense of urgency to those pleas for high intervention. “Please” seems a bit polite given my circumstances.

Perhaps, the situation demanded additional resolve.

More like, “God damn, God!”

That certainly better suits my memories of distress at the time, but looking at it on paper, I’m not sure God would have appreciated my less than humble petition for help.

So, I just don’t go there. In Tanzania, a low-pressure system intervened. In Liberia, it was the Ambassador. I moved on non-plussed and looked upon a new dawn.

This is a photo of the high altar of the Cattedrale Metropolitana di Santa Maria del Fiore, or as we hitchhiking band of brothers called it in 1981, Il Duomo di Firenze, consecrated as a church in 393 AD, which certainly carries some provenancial weight.

And perhaps for some, a bit of providential weight as well. But you know how I feel about that.

In my book, it is truly one of the most breathtaking cathedrals in Europe, perhaps a bit above the Winchester in England and not quite up there with Notre Dame. The Sagrada Familia in Barcelona doesn’t count because they don’t know how to finish it.

Every photo I have seen of this magnificent dome is from the ground, looking up into its massive, truly ethereal, brilliantly colored interior. I have searched for some time to find a photo from my perspective here, looking down from the apex of the dome upon the altar. Not that there isn’t one, I just have yet to find it. I continue to search.

There are 463 steps to reach the top of Brunelleschi’s Il Duomo. I remember every one of them. When you arrive at the top, you have a narrow, circular platform to peer down upon the hapless mortal tourists peering up at you.

It is a stunning view. As with most in our group that day, I admired the vantage from a layman’s perspective, not sure what to make of it all. Prior to the decent however, I hung back from the group and pulled out the Nikon.

I needed help to set this shot up. Not that there was any trickery or tomfoolery, which can be part of the story sometimes. No, just a little help. A travel companion gave me a hand and held my legs and belt, allowing me to stretch out beyond the guardrail protecting tourists from a 500-foot splat. Counting on the infinity focus setting and a wide-open f/2.8 aperture, I stretched out with one arm and snapped one photo. And that was that.

Remember, this was in 1981. I was a bit more acrobatic then.

So, what are we looking at?

I won’t break every part down for you. But if you have yet to visit Il Duomo, I will gladly piece the main parts together.

At the bottom of the photo, you can clearly see the high altar, and if you zoom in a bit, you can make out the life-size wooden crucifix, flanked by six, meter high white candles. When you approach the dome from the main cathedral floor, this crucifix is the pervasive centerpiece. For those who pray, you would take this ground view as your cue.

At the top of the photo is the entrance to the altar. You can imagine the high priests, bishops, archbishops, altar boys (perhaps girls now) and the rest, entering the back of the cathedral, slowly swaying along the nave until approaching this octagon. You might also imagine their well-rehearsed shuffle among the ranks as they settle among the sedilia and chancel pews and prepare for mass.

It is an impressive, rich, yet simple, geometric display. Hardly noticed from the ground, the arrangement and design from atop the dome is stunning. Yet, obviously, not the main allure.

The center of the photo is the fixed altar, where the business of the mass happens, the place of celebration. Zoom in and you vaguely see a gray outline of the altar crucifix. From the camera’s viewpoint, directly above the fixed altar, above where I was stretched out beyond the guardrail, there is a small oculus that allows direct sunlight into the dome area. On this day, granting myself zero credit for lighting, position of the earth, time of day, or any other claim a photographer may want to stake, I snapped this at the same time the sun decided to join the party.

Photographers strive to create photos that evoke some emotional response from the viewer. Often, it is the photographer’s intent to elicit a particular emotion and to that extent a good photograph would result in an emotional reaction; happy, sad, joy, pity, inspiration, anger, depression, whatever. I dare not say how you might feel, if anything, from Il Duomo. But I do hope it moves you in some way.

It does for me, and after 45 years in the box, I now share it with you.

“Thank you, God.”