Some three weeks have passed since we returned from our Italian adventure; flying into Venice, we then took a train to Florence, and a subsequent train to Rome.
It was a hell of a trip, and, as usual, I took a probably-ridiculous number of pictures (a thorough purge brought this number to just north of 400). This post does not contain those pictures.
I wrote drafts of three separate posts, one for each location, but I haven’t been able to go back to them, nor have I really had the desire to go through the photos with the intent of selecting and post-processing those that are “worthy” of this blog. The whole memory seems oddly fragile, and I have been unable to move past the feeling that if I go back through and account for everything we did, the memory will simply recede, like a small village buried by a sandstorm.
When I flipped through the pictures for the third or fourth time this past weekend, I did find myself laughing at the lions. “Another leone” proved to be the motto of the trip, perhaps due to where we were, and perhaps because we “rescued” several more Marcos during our stay in Venice.
It is thus with this admittedly-unsatisfying backstory that I present everything that wound up tagged with the word “lion,” in all its disjointed glory.
While searching for a 12th century wellhead (with one of the oldest lions of saint-Mark on the side), we wound up lost and in front of a hospital which had a marble trompe l’oeil.
Lower left; from the church adjacent to the hospital.
The symbol on the water fountain.
No lions in this biennale installation, but they would probably be enamored with those massive balls of yarn in the background.
A lovely statue we ran across on our way to the garden section of the biennale.
Such a noble lion.
A column near the grand canal.
From an old customs building.
Unsurprising find in the Palazzo Ducale.
Surprise: the anthropomorphic version of Venice (the lovely lady with the crown) hangs out with a winged lion.
I’m not sure why he’s so upset.
This one looks happier.
The history of this statue is impressive; stolen, raised, broken, stolen again, displayed in Paris, returned in pieces, and refurbished several times. The core lion part apparently predates Christianity itself by some 400 years.
Moving on to Firenze, we find another noble lion on the façade of the Palazzo Pitti.
Ceiling cat is watching you.
Palazzo Pitti spoils their lions.
Yeah, let’s all get naked in the presence of a lion. That sounds safe.
As the Purrito noted, we hit the jackpot at Palazzo Strozzi.
What are winged lions doing in the Duomo museum?
Sing to the lions.
From the cathedral’s edifice.
Unhappy structural lions.
Lion hide-and-go-seek in the Uffizi.
A fresco in the convent of Santa Maria Novella.
Surely the Musei dei Vaticani‘s collection of Sekhmets count.
An Egyptian lioness.
A demonic lion.
Lions gonna lion (and eat things).
Yeah, you can eat that, too.
The sadly-roped-off animal sculpture room.
Lots of lions in there.
I’ll allow it.
“Goddammit, don’t eat that!” – anyone who has ever owned a cat.
Checking out the buffet.
I’m sure Aurora and Vorenus consider this an accurate representation of their battles.
Hint: what’s the name of the plaza in which Rome’s typewriter is located?