Elegantly Crashing Posh Parties In Italy
And by “parties” I mean “Biennale events and exhibits.”
Are you super jelly yet? (For all my old man readers, that is internet slang for “jealous”)
You should be.
The first week of my trip was spent in Florence, whereupon I spent a lot of time pondering executions, torture, and art. And when I say “art” I mean “every gallery and cathedral I could cram into one week.” (Did you know that what monks painted, when no one was looking, was fucking crazy? Did you know that no one at the Uffizi ever looks at the most interesting pieces they have on display? Did you know that some of the best museums in Florence are almost completely ignored by tourists, including one that is a veritable playground for medical fetishists?)
And yes, I went to see the David.
Photo from Florence:
My second week was spent in Venice. My fancy pre-public-opening passes for the Biennale were put to good use. I crashed all the opening events, ruined all the art critic photo ops, and collected all the promotional materials from artists around the world. (I will never need another screen printed tote bag in my life.) Other than attending the world’s most important annual contemporary art event, I also purchased supplies from the anachronistic artist supply store, ate every friend The Little Mermaid ever had and, of course, visited all the museums. (I am, in fact, going to do a separate post about one exhibit in particular, which you will hopefully find as relevant and interesting as I did.)
Photo from Venice:
And most sexily from Venice:
Other than this, and aside from the soon-to-be-posted entry I promised above, I’m not going to go into any more major details for you guys. This is mostly because I seriously doubt you give a shit about the history of Florentine Dukes, Renaissance Art, or my issues with Italian produce. Suffice it to say, I had a great time, and hated every second in the Paris airport.