PUNKED BY A MIME ARTIST OUTSIDE THE UFFIZI GALLERY
Florence's Piazzale degli Uffizi, in shadow of the celebrated museum of that name. Let's look around!
Marco (below) is the honorary "grandfather" of the mime artists who come and go in that part of town. (Does anyone know his last name?)
For over twenty-five years, he has been doing Dante —now "Grandpa Dante"— while remaining staunchly in character, developing a grave yet benevolent style of his own.
A Zen thing maybe?
This "pure soul" won a devoted Asian following and is particularly loved by Chinese children.
No one would ever take this smirking Grandpa Cupid for a "pure soul", but he too became an established presence at the loggia of the Uffizi.
And I remember various others over the years... Unfortunately, I can't find a trace of that woman who did the Statue of Liberty— keeping her torch-bearing arm raised for hours at a time, while nodding graciously and smiling like Lady Di opening a branch library.
Then there were the zingare (ladies of the Rom or Sinti people) who were neither gracious nor beloved.
Some years ago, the Florentine police cracked down on begging in the tourist center and a few enterprising spirit s discovered that mime artists were legally protected as street performers. The Italian equivalent of a First Amendment carve-out, I suppose?
As you probably guessed, I am burying the real story in "context"— hoping that you will bail on this deviously long-winded post.
Who are we both looking at— the Killer Klown and me?
My camera-wielding brother, of course!
He shot a rapid burst of photos from 4:17 to 4:18 on the afternoon of Monday July 2, 2014.
Meanwhile, Mister Fun was near enough to nibble on my earlobe and I hadn't a clue.
Where are we exactly?
Standing in the Piazzale degli Uffizi, looking across the Loggia dei Lanza toward Piazza della Signoria.
Center stage, we have Benvenuto Cellini's Perseus. In the background, the usual clutter of touristic voyeurs.
Oh shut up, already! Those creeps were laughing at me, not with me! Don't even pretend!
And everyone but Grandpa Nitwit knew that his own brother had set him up.
Don't you hate it when you have no choice but to be a good sport?
After coaxing me into pathetic poses (to the delight of all), my brother pointed over my shoulder and signaled "turn around".
Lo and freaking behold...
My only consolation? The disappointed look from the woman in blue lowering her camera.
So I knew. And Bozo knew that I knew.
Was that the end of the trolling?
Of course not!
But what could I do except cut and run— with a grinning sociopath in hot pursuit?
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Let’s count the degrees of separation—from here back to the original.
***
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Michelangelo’s David! The original is in Florence’s Accademia Gallery but copies…and copies of copies…and copies of copies of copies…beset us at every turn.
Let’s count the degrees of separation—from here back to the original.
***
Thank you, COVID?!
Michelangelo's David, plus space and silence and no tourists.
Zero degrees of separation to count!
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