We visit the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo where they keep all the goodies associated with the cathedral. I’m particularly fascinated by hymnals on vellum, hand-lettered and illuminated in the 13th to 15th centuries; they are enormous, heavy with thickly ornamented initials and borders in vivid golds and primaries, bright and fresh as if they were done yesterday. The calligrapher in me twitches - but the life of a scribe would, surely, have been drudgery? (I’m reminded of when I was offered a job ‘calligraphing’ in Chancery hand the minutes of the Corporation of the City of London at the Guildhall. Though flattered and tempted, I turned it down because I couldn’t face a life of writer’s cramp. Poor bloody monks!)
On the first floor of the museum a colonnaded external gallery looks over gardens to the leaning tower. From this angle the tower is very prominent against the cathedral and I set up my tripod. But a young man in uniform stops me.
‘No tripod. Only camera.’
I ask him why.
‘Professionale.’ he replies, wagging a finger at me.
So I rest the Minolta on the balustrade - just like any other amateur.
From ‘Antipasto’ random samplings from various writings made over a few years of visits to a ‘New Zealander’s Italy’
© DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz
.
On the first floor of the museum a colonnaded external gallery looks over gardens to the leaning tower. From this angle the tower is very prominent against the cathedral and I set up my tripod. But a young man in uniform stops me.
‘No tripod. Only camera.’
I ask him why.
‘Professionale.’ he replies, wagging a finger at me.
So I rest the Minolta on the balustrade - just like any other amateur.
From ‘Antipasto’ random samplings from various writings made over a few years of visits to a ‘New Zealander’s Italy’
© DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz
.
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