Italy vii--Photobombed

This isn't my picture. I didn't take it--I picked it up from Pinterest. It's taken inside the incredible Gothic cathedral in Sienna, Tuscany. I didn't stand right there either. We didn't go inside. No matter. Look for yourself. The picture alone takes your breath away. What's in that old cathedral is really beyond imagining.

And here's the place from outside, the Siena Duomo, the Cathedral of Sienna, that great Gothic cathedral. This is not my picture either. I could have taken it, I mean I stood right there, but for some reason I didn't snap the shot. I picked this one up from Google. 

This church, like so many others, is, trust me, a magnificent, ancient structure whose sheer accomplishment is stunning. Three doorways of equal height stand at the front. If you follow those three huge doors up into that spectacular facade, you'll discover three triangular golden mosaics, the large one in the center obviously most celebrated. That one, the coronation of Mary, explains the dedication of the church--to the Mother of Jesus Christ. 

The left doorway's mosaic tells the story of the boy Jesus's first visit to the temple. Mary looks a bit saddened or shocked, as she must have been, and Joseph, head bowed, has taken with him a lamb for some symbolic reasons. Jesus takes the hand of the prelate and smiles back at his parents graciously. It's a leave-taking. 

We didn't spend much time at the Siena Duomo. We were, right then, listening to our phones, where Rick Steves described and explained the cathedral. We just kept on walking, and I don't remember regretting not entering either, not seeing inside. 

What kept us away almost had to have been a conspiracy of time and exhaustion. We needed to catch the bus back to Florence, and our Sienna visit wasn't the first day of the trip. We'd already been in some monstrously beautiful cathedrals. Besides, we were being thoughtfully and artfully lectured. 

And then there's this: even this level of magnificence is eventually wearying. 

Yesterday, I discovered one reason for such full-blown exhaustion when I was looking over my pictures of the Siena Duoma, thousands of miles removed. Here's that picture. It's the mosaic above the right-hand door.

I had the big lens on the camera, so I thought I should reach for something, and I did. If you look up at the cathedral's facade, above, you'll find this mosaic (set there only recently--1877, by the way) far above the right-hand door. It's the Holy Family (should that be upper case?) and an angel, who's looking up at Mary almost imploringly. If there is a biblical story, I'm not sure what it is exactly, but then no one is going to fight with the image.

But I got photobombed. Look up in the right-hand corner. Two dogs--greyhounds, weimaraners?--sit there, perfectly sideways, hundreds of feet up in the air, observing something, positioned in a way that makes it unlikely they're seeing what we're seeing from the front. What on earth are they doing there? Why would anyone make sure there are dogs far, far up on the facade? There must be a reason. Why? 

I took the picture--the last three, in fact. I saw this all through the lens of my camera, extended to all of its 300mm, and I never spotted those dogs. I didn't see them until yesterday. There's just too much.

Even if you know very little about art or history or religion, truth be told, you could spend six months' studying the Siena Duomo or a hundred other sites in old Italy. We didn't have six months to spend in Siena. Few tourists ever will. 

The magnificence just doesn't quit in old Italy, but eventually, sadly enough, we do.