Going Home

If you've ever been to a place that was truly different or that touched you deeply, you'll understand when I say that it was really hard to tell people about what Tuscany was like for me. Oh sure, I could show them the pictures and tell them about tiled roofs and rolling hills, but the reality is that people could glean all that from a travel brochure. But when a place resonates on a deeper level, it's a bit harder to articulate what you experienced without getting really personal and introspective.

Copyright © 2005 by Dan Giordan

At least I could use my cameras to frame and capture the world. Handing my pictures around or pointing to the PowerBook screen, it was implicit that for me Tuscany looked like this. This is what impacted me. This is what I saw and felt. But this visual residue still falls a bit short of the whole perspective, especially when it comes to emotional responses.

My immediate family strongly identifiies with the Italian culture. My dad came to the United States from Italy when he was three years old. On arrival in the States, my grandfather changed his name from Giordano to Giordan, in a feeble attempt to Americanize what was once a classic Italian surname. The bastardized result of "Giordan" remains as a confusing souvenir of the occasion and is equally difficult to pronounce for people of both languages.

Italian was never really spoken among my relatives. Those who knew it quickly forgot it through lack of use, and others like my dad quickly adopted English as their primary language.

When my grandfather died in 1956, most of the ties to our Italian way of life died with him. Relatives knew little about where we actually came from, or the whereabouts of any remaining relatives. "We lived in Florence and Naples," my dad would say, parroting back the line that must have been told him by his mom or dad. Ask for more info, and he would shrug his shoulders and say he didn't really know.

Even so, and in spite of all this veiled information, I felt like I was going back to my homeland; that I was going to reconnect with my people and my heritage.

Finally, as an artist trained in the traditional skills of drawing and painting, it's hard for me to maintain a neutral stance regarding Tuscany and its role in the Renaissance. This was the birthplace of western art; the iconic images left behind by Mike, Leo, and Raphael are powerful examples that can't be ignored. At the same time, as we push the artistic boundaries of the 21^st century, experiencing these masters begs the question of how Renaissance art is relative for today and how we should relate to it within the context of a digital world.

I was going back home, and I was taking a pilgrimage to one of the true holy places of western art. It was unavoidable that I would come face to face with myself in the process.

Copyright © 2005 by Dan Giordan