Milan. It All Started with a Fresco
I spent the first weekend of the year in Milan to see Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, a.k.a. the Cenacolo Vinciano, and a couple of other things to please those who were travelling with me - but more on this later.
Because it was before the Epiphany, the feast day that in Italy marks the end of the Christmas season, streets were still adorned with Christmas lights, and crowded with people meandering around after days of binging on panettoni. The city centre was also dotted with roadworks and temporary signposts as the city was getting ready to host Expo 2015.
I had visited the city before but I'd never had the opportunity to see the Cenacolo Vinciano, for this is the kind of attraction you are more likely to find in a list of works-of-art-to-see-before-you-die than an adventure generator for spontaneous travellers. That is because, after the success of The Da Vinci Code – both Dan Brown’s novel and film, visitor numbers have risen sharply. Besides, in order to preserve the fresco, only twenty-five visitors are admitted every 15 minutes hence, if you let me do the maths for you, about 320,000 visitors are allowed in per year. The long and the short of it being that, if you are thinking of paying a visit, you should book your ticket as soon as you can. I booked mine in mid-November, and then planned a trip around it.
Science has played an important role in the preservation of this unconventional fresco (Leonardo painted it on a dry wall rather than on a wet plaster) but to consider that the work survived the Napoleonic regime when the refectory became a stable and the wall was used no less than for target practice, and World War II when bombs fell on the building, made me think of a miracle!
Leonardo’s Cenacolo is really what everyone says it is: a masterpiece of emotional insights to be read in the Apostles’ facial expressions. In the gift shop you will find these “moti dell’animo” (in the artist’s words) reproduced endlessly on all sort of souvenirs, from kitchen aprons to mouse pads to anything-you-like or dislike. Actually some are so tasteless you may find it hard to believe the Quadrilatero della Moda (Milan’s fashion district) is a stone’s throw away. But I didn’t walk away empty-handed as I bought a postcard of The Crucifixion that stands on the wall facing Leonardo’s masterpiece (could you think of a more unfavorable place?) and therefore catch few people attention. I’m always one for supporting the underdog!
Donato da Montorfano, The Crucifixion, 1495.
The historic heart of the city is compact. A short journey by metro was necessary to reach Santa Maria delle Grazie, the church where The Last Supper sits, from our hotel, but then we moved on foot, passing by the imposing Castello Sforzesco on our way to the Pinacoteca di Brera.
Let me digress for a moment and tell you something about travelling with an art historian: this is not for the fainthearted! You might think that this is because of a desire by part of the aforementioned art historian to tick off as many as possible cultural must-sees in the chosen destination, when actually it is quite the opposite as visits to monuments and art collections are more similar to thorough investigations. Exhaustion by boredom more than by physical fatigue is likely to affect the poor ill-fated significant other, family and friends. However, every now and then, we too can be considerate and do our best to linger less in art galleries and the like. And this is exactly what I did while visiting the Pinacoteca di Brera.
The day was bright and warm, and people and pigeons were milling about everywhere but mostly in the streets leading to Piazza del Duomo. This square is so vast that its only landmark - the equestrian statue of Vittorio Emanuele II, first king of Italy - is always a long long way from whichever corner you may find yourself in.
After lunch, we decided to make the most of the clear day traipsing up to Le Terrazze, the Duomo's roof terraces. Well, I am using the word 'traipsing' loosely here, as we didn't think even for a second of clambering up the 158 steps. We took the lift, of course.
Once we were back down to the ground, we joined the queue to enter the cathedral. Someone may find the interior of this building, which is an hybrid of Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque styles, rather overwhelming. And in fact, if you have the time and the energy to take a tour along all its five aisles - divided by 52 colossal piers, one for every week of the year - among all the sarcophagi, funerary shrines and statues, you really won't know where to rest your eyes. I rested mine on a modern work of art, which was only temporally exhibited: Paradosso by the British sculptor Tony Cragg.
Camera: Hasselblad 500C/M | Film: Lomography X-Pro Slide 200 (Cross-processed)
I trust this won't come as a shock to any of you, but we spent the rest of the afternoon walking along boulevards, doing shopping, eating and drinking.
On our last day we went west again to visit Sant’Ambrogio, Milan's most charming church, and the National Museum of Science and Technology 'Leonardo da Vinci', which is set within the cloistered former monastery of St Vittore. The array of exhibits is vast and covers all the sciences, but a star attraction is the Enrico Toti submarine, which was built in 1967 to track Soviet submarines in the Mediterranean. Viewing numbers are limited to six at a time, so I would suggest booking it well in advance, but not before you have booked The Last Supper - that goes without saying.
