Hillary

I love Santo Spirito. When I went to find my space for this project, I set off in the direction of the center of the city. Then somehow without even realizing it, I ended up at Santo Spirito. I've been to the piazza and church multiple times since arriving here in Florence, and each time has been a distinctly different experience. My first experience there was when I went to the Sunday flea market the first Sunday we all got here. The piazza was filled with people, animals, food, leather, art, old dentists tools, dried flowers, knit blankets, vintage signs, pipes, gold chandeliers, and other doodads, sights, and smells. Other times I've gone there have been to eat a panino from Gustapanino, or just passing through.

Then last Sunday, Amy Trummer and I were wandering around the city, and after not having been able to go to the Boboli Gardens, we headed to the piazza to sit in the sun for a while. While we were sitting there, it was like a 1940's film. There were 2 people playing their instruments and singing bluegrass songs and doing harmonica solos. Then from a side street, a man in a three-piece gray suit with a matching hat (with a red rose in it) came riding in to the piazza on his bike. He had a bottle of wine in his pocket, his daughter riding on his lap, and a guitar on his back. He joined the musicians as his wife swung the little girl around in her arms. After greeting everyone, the group of musicians continued their singing with some Johnny Cash, Simon and Garfunkel and other fabulous songs. Dogs ran around the piazza, kids played in circles, people sang, and a little old drunk man danced happily around everyone.

When I returned there today, it was yet again a very different experience. The piazza was almost abandoned. There was a group of men talking near where I was sitting to draw, but otherwise, it was empty. (Oh someone came up to me and asked if I was there alone... then he told me to keep an eye out for "ragazzi drogati e sbronzi"). While I was drawing, I kept noticing objects and patterns, like a sort of evidence of what had been there. I've become kind of obsessed with the way a space can change character so quickly, what changes it, and what is left behind as "evidence" of this change or occurrence. I took pictures of waste, graffiti, tire tracks, animal droppings, unidentifiable "stuff," pipes, trash, confetti, spilled paint, anything that suggested a previous interaction with the space. I can't wait to go back to see what new things Santo Spirito has to show me.