Meeting Benches World art in all forms
A visual journey through Divina Commedia
Your Italian guide will be waiting for you in Piazza di Santa Croce, beneath a white marble statue of Dante Alighieri. “His small neoclassical tomb, located near the site of his funeral in 1321, is in Ravenna,” you write in your new travel journal dedicated to the famous poet. You note the places to visit during your stay in Florence. “There is a famous and evocative image of him, but his death mask, preserved in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence, is believed not to be the original, but rather a reproduction from 1483.” Wanting to better prepare for your upcoming discussion with the left-handed man, you fill your journal with details about Dante’s physical characteristics. “According to Boccaccio, Alighieri was not particularly tall and, in his later years, tended to stoop slightly. He moved with a calm and solemn step. His face was long, his nose shaped like an eagle’s beak. He had large eyes and jaws, a prominent chin, and a protruding lower lip. His complexion was dark, his hair and beard black and curly. His face was often characterized by a melancholy and contemplative expression. He dressed appropriately for his mature age. He rarely spoke and his words were thoughtful and appropriate to the subject. In his youth, he loved music and singing. Modern reconstructions based on his skull suggest that the author of the Divine Comedy had a larger-than-average skull.” Reread what you have just written, intending to treasure this information when you visit the places associated with this serious and thoughtful man.
Convinced that it is the ideal place for those seeking an authentic gastronomic experience, your friend from Meeting Benches has arranged to meet you at Trattoria da Garibardi, in Piazza del Mercato Centrale, in Florence. The half-empty bottle of Chianti Classico—the traditional Tuscan wine, with its hints of red fruit and spices that perfectly complement a steak—obstructs your view of the bill that your guide is settling. You stand up, thank him, and hope that the wine hasn’t affected your balance as you make your way to Dante’s House. Outside the restaurant, a left-handed man, intent on smoking, watches you with an intriguing smile. When, with a gesture of his Tuscan cigar, he invites you to follow him, the direction is clear: Via Santa Margherita. “There is no certainty that Dante Alighieri was born at number one on this street,” he declares with confident intonation, “but I am certain that you, too, will not be able to resist the temptation to visit the museum dedicated to him. It is spread over three floors, focusing on his youth, political engagement, and exile. His Divine Comedy has had an extraordinary impact on art, inspiring generations of artists across different fields. From Renaissance paintings to modern interpretations, Dante Alighieri’s poem has shaped the visual and conceptual imagination of many creators. During the Renaissance, Sandro Botticelli and Federico Zuccari illustrated the work with meticulous detail, while in the 19th century, Gustave Doré produced engravings that influenced the visual perception of Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.”
You are walking to his right, unable to resist the temptation to reply as you search your memory and lightly touch his shoulder. “In the 20th century, however, by creating evocative and dreamlike images, Salvador Dalí reinterpreted the Divine Comedy with a surrealist approach. Nevertheless, Dante’s influence wasn’t limited to painting and sculpture—it extended to cinema, dance, and music as well. Strange that you don’t know that! Demonstrating its ability to engage with contemporary arts, his poem has been adapted into theatrical performances and musical works. But tell me, which events in Dante’s life directly inspired that work?” You continue walking side by side. The left-handed man lifts his sunglasses and looks at you, appearing to reflect on something personal. “The Divine Comedy is deeply influenced by Dante Alighieri’s personal experiences. Among the key events that shaped his masterpiece was his exile from Florence in 1302, when he was banished from his native city due to political conflicts. That event marked his life profoundly. The figure of Beatrice Portinari, whom he met in his youth, became a symbol of spiritual guidance and salvation in the poem. Dante also studied Latin classics and considered Virgil a master; in the Inferno and Purgatorio, Virgil serves as his guide. Dante describes his sense of loss in the dark forest as a metaphor for personal crisis.”
Just a few meters from the exit of Dante’s House, in front of the Church of Santa Margherita dei Cerchi—the presumed burial site of Dante Alighieri’s muse—you learn from your guide that the family of Beatrice Portinari’s husband had their burial site elsewhere. Nevertheless, the church before your eyes is a symbolic place for Dante’s admirers, who often leave letters and love messages near Beatrice’s supposed tomb. Outside the church, following the taciturn left-handed man, you take note that you are walking along Via del Corso and Via dei Calzolari. But it is only when you arrive at Piazza San Giovanni, joining the visitors gathered in front of the Baptistery of the same name, that you realize where you are about to enter as you listen to your guide. “The Divine Comedy explores a range of themes that reflect Dante’s worldview and the historical context in which he lived. One of the primary themes, Redemption and Salvation, portrays Dante’s journey as the soul’s path from damnation to bliss, passing through Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. Regarding Divine Justice, the law of contrapasso demonstrates how the punishments of the damned are proportionate to the sins committed in life. On Politics and Religion, Dante criticizes the corruption within the Church and advocates for the separation between spiritual and temporal power. For him, love—both earthly and divine—was a fundamental force driving his journey, culminating in the encounter with his beloved Beatrice. Believe me, Dante’s pursuit of truth was, above all, a journey of spiritual growth.”
Finally, inside the Baptistery of San Giovanni, the place where Florentines were baptized for centuries, your Italian guide tells you that Dante Alighieri’s baptismal font—a large octagonal basin—was dismantled in the 16th century. “Few fragments remain, but if you’d like, we could see them at the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo,” he suggests. You decline the invitation and ask him to accompany you to Ponte Vecchio, where you hope to buy at least one piece of jewelry to forever remind you of the beauty that has enriched your Florentine day. Then, as you walk along Via dei Calzolari, the left-handed man reveals something connected to Sandro Botticelli. “Between 1480 and 1495, Botticelli illustrated Dante’s Inferno in a series of drawings, part of a cycle of 92 illustrations dedicated to the Divine Comedy. However, only one drawing is fully completed: The Abyss of Hell. One of the most fascinating elements is the Map of Hell, a detailed representation of Dante’s infernal structure, with its circles and the punishments of the damned. Botticelli visually translated the poem’s complexity, creating intricate and unsettling images that reveal a darker, lesser-known side of him. These drawings, preserved between the Vatican Apostolic Library and the Kupferstichkabinett in Berlin, are considered Renaissance masterpieces and offer a unique vision of Dante’s imagination.”
Botticelli’s Map of Hell was created during a period of great cultural ferment in Florence. Known for masterpieces such as The Birth of Venus and Primavera, Botticelli devoted himself to illustrating the Divine Comedy at the commission of a member of the powerful Medici family. This project reflects the renewed interest in Dante in 15th-century Florence, an era marked by the influence of humanist thinkers and the rediscovery of classical texts. The map depicts Dante’s Inferno with a funnel-shaped structure, divided into the various circles described in the poem. Botticelli employed the silverpoint technique, crafting intricate and unsettling details. The artwork remained for centuries in the archives of the Vatican Apostolic Library until its rediscovery in the 19th century. Today, it is regarded as one of the most fascinating visual interpretations of the Divine Comedy. Uncertain as to why this Italian admirer of Florence and art is dwelling on Botticelli’s Map of Hell, you decide to show you’ve been listening by asking about the technique used in illustrating the Divine Comedy.
“Sandro Botticelli combined silverpoint, ink, and tempera on parchment, creating images of extraordinary precision. Silverpoint was a refined technique that allowed for thin lines and intricate details, essential for bringing the complex scenes of the poem to life. The use of ink helped define contours and emphasize the narrative structure of the illustrations, while tempera was delicately applied to add depth and subtle color shading to certain figures. Known for his meticulous approach, Botticelli created these works with the goal of visually accompanying the reading of Dante’s text. His depiction of Inferno, particularly the Map of Hell, is considered one of the most fascinating visual interpretations of the poem, characterized by an extreme attention to detail and a harmonious composition that reflects the dramatic nature of Dante’s otherworldly journey. His illustrations continue to generate great interest among scholars and art enthusiasts. “I myself,” he tells you before stepping into the Tabaccheria San Giovanni to purchase a box of Toscano Antica Riserva, “have just created a digital gallery on this theme.” Yes, it is getting late, the day after tomorrow the train that will take you back to your daily life will be waiting for you at the Santa Maria Novella station. The kindness of your guide seems inexhaustible. You open your small backpack, take the diary you dedicated and hand it to the left-handed one. Reading the first page, “His small neoclassical tomb, located near the site of his funeral in 1321, is in Ravenna,” your guide seems surprised, but accepts your wish. “Why not? We have time, we can go to Ravenna tomorrow.”
“Through me one goes into the city of woe, through me one goes into eternal pain, through me one goes among the lost people,” the guide says in a tone of voice that fails to hide a hint of bitterness. “Inferno, Canto III, lines 1-3,” he clarifies, inviting you to reply. You open your diary and look for the right rhyme, look at the Italian with half an unlit cigar resting against his left ear and reply. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Inferno, Canto III, line 9.” You are chatting in front of the Trattoria Baldini, a historic establishment with an informal atmosphere, where the food is prepared following traditional recipes. Hand on the handle, he opens the door and invites you in. “To run into better waters, now raise the sails the little vessel of my genius, which leaves behind such a cruel sea. Purgatory, Canto I, lines 1-3.” This time, you were the first to rhyme. The left-hander tilts his head a little, peers into your journal, and declaims, “He seeks freedom, which is so dear, as he knows who refuses life for it. Purgatory, Canto I, lines 71-72.” Inside, you discover that the furnishings are in traditional Tuscan style, with cloth tablecloths and particular attention to detail. You let him take the orders, and choose new lines to suit the occasion: “The glory of him who moves everything pervades the universe, and shines more in one part and less in another. Paradise, Canto I, lines 1-3.” You push away the empty plate of ribollita, a Tuscan soup made with stale bread, beans, and vegetables. The left-hander seems happy that you enjoyed the food. “This dish comes from peasant tradition, where leftovers were re-boiled the next day to enhance their flavors.” Your guide also has an empty plate, asks the waiter for the bill, and is about to pay it. You put your hand on the receipt and pay, then you start writing on the back: “The love that moves the sun and the other stars. Paradise, Canto XXXIII, line 145.”
