little."
"I should not be surprised." He rolled out the papers.
I drew in a breath. "So this is the statue?"
"Yes. The Maestro's preliminary drawings of it, at least. Once you get into removing stone from the block, plans can change."
"As in a painting."
"Similar, yes, though sculpture is the harder art to master. This is why the Maestro calls himself a sculptor, not a painter--why I chose this same path, too."
"So you think painting is not difficult to master?"
"I didn't mean to offend you--of course it is. I like to paint. The Maestro does, too, sometimes. But the Maestro says it takes a real man to endure the punishment of working in stone. You have to be brave--one mistake and you're done. Painting is much more forgiving and simple, better suited for the temperament of a woman. There is no pressure to perform."
"I see. I shall try to remember that the next time I must paint a man as a good and benevolent family man when all of Italy knows he has just poisoned his brother." I held my breath. Must I always speak my mind?
But Tiberio only grimaced and said, "Point taken." He pushed back the curling edges of the red chalk drawing. "Anyway, these are the plans. The Maestro was trying to do something here that no one else has done with success--sculpting four freestanding figures from a single block. Do you know how hard that is to do? Coaxing one body from stone is difficult enough. Four bodies--it's nearly impossible. All those arms and legs."
"I see the dying Christ." I pointed to the dominant figure, holding the sinking body. "Who is this? Joseph of Arimathea, taking him from the cross?"
"There is no cross here. This scene is later, when Christ was being prepared for the tomb. The hooded man is Nicodemus, the rich old man who wished to know Our Lord. As you remember, Nicodemus helped with the burial." He gestured to the other figures. "Here 's the Virgin Mary, supporting her son, and Mary Magdalene to His other side, readying His winding cloth. If the Maestro seems preoccupied with death in this piece, it is because it is meant for his own tomb."
I gazed at the drawing, my every pore taut with arousal, but not from the rendering: Tiberio's arm was nearly touching mine.
"All had been going well with the work on the piece," he said. "Over the course of eight years, the Maestro had roughed in the Nicodemus and much of the Virgin and Mary Magdalene. Then one day, while shaping the Christ, he hit a fault in the marble."
"A fault?"
"One of the worst kinds, a vein of emery. It's so hard that sparks fly when your chisel hits it. Very difficult to shape, if you can do it at all." Tiberio shook his head. "I was in the studio at the time, though I didn't see the sparks. All I knew was, suddenly the Maestro was shouting and smashing the statue with his hammer. The three of Us who were there, I, Antonio the servant, and the painter Daniele da Volterra, dropped everything and tried to hold him back."
"Did he do much damage?"
"Broke off two arms and the Christ 's leg. We had to hold the old man Until he cooled down and dropped the hammer. 'If you like it so much,' he shouted at me, along with a few choice Florentine curses, 'you finish it!' It turned out he was serious--he didn't care if I worked on it, as long as it was kept out of his sight." He patted the edge of the drawing. "Well, I was not letting this go. It's too beautiful, even with the missing limbs. And all that work--eight years of his hammer to the chisel, dust flying Up his nose and in his eyes, chips raining down his back--for nothing. No. It took ten men to inch the Unfinished block out of his studio and down the arcade to the little room the Maestro said I could Use as a studio, but I was keeping it." He looked at me over his shoulder. "Would you like to see it?"
I glanced at the door.
"I will have you back downstairs before Francesca returns. No one will be the wiser."
As the Angelus bells began to clang, our eyes met.
He picked Up a lamp. I do not
"I should not be surprised." He rolled out the papers.
I drew in a breath. "So this is the statue?"
"Yes. The Maestro's preliminary drawings of it, at least. Once you get into removing stone from the block, plans can change."
"As in a painting."
"Similar, yes, though sculpture is the harder art to master. This is why the Maestro calls himself a sculptor, not a painter--why I chose this same path, too."
"So you think painting is not difficult to master?"
"I didn't mean to offend you--of course it is. I like to paint. The Maestro does, too, sometimes. But the Maestro says it takes a real man to endure the punishment of working in stone. You have to be brave--one mistake and you're done. Painting is much more forgiving and simple, better suited for the temperament of a woman. There is no pressure to perform."
"I see. I shall try to remember that the next time I must paint a man as a good and benevolent family man when all of Italy knows he has just poisoned his brother." I held my breath. Must I always speak my mind?
But Tiberio only grimaced and said, "Point taken." He pushed back the curling edges of the red chalk drawing. "Anyway, these are the plans. The Maestro was trying to do something here that no one else has done with success--sculpting four freestanding figures from a single block. Do you know how hard that is to do? Coaxing one body from stone is difficult enough. Four bodies--it's nearly impossible. All those arms and legs."
"I see the dying Christ." I pointed to the dominant figure, holding the sinking body. "Who is this? Joseph of Arimathea, taking him from the cross?"
"There is no cross here. This scene is later, when Christ was being prepared for the tomb. The hooded man is Nicodemus, the rich old man who wished to know Our Lord. As you remember, Nicodemus helped with the burial." He gestured to the other figures. "Here 's the Virgin Mary, supporting her son, and Mary Magdalene to His other side, readying His winding cloth. If the Maestro seems preoccupied with death in this piece, it is because it is meant for his own tomb."
I gazed at the drawing, my every pore taut with arousal, but not from the rendering: Tiberio's arm was nearly touching mine.
"All had been going well with the work on the piece," he said. "Over the course of eight years, the Maestro had roughed in the Nicodemus and much of the Virgin and Mary Magdalene. Then one day, while shaping the Christ, he hit a fault in the marble."
"A fault?"
"One of the worst kinds, a vein of emery. It's so hard that sparks fly when your chisel hits it. Very difficult to shape, if you can do it at all." Tiberio shook his head. "I was in the studio at the time, though I didn't see the sparks. All I knew was, suddenly the Maestro was shouting and smashing the statue with his hammer. The three of Us who were there, I, Antonio the servant, and the painter Daniele da Volterra, dropped everything and tried to hold him back."
"Did he do much damage?"
"Broke off two arms and the Christ 's leg. We had to hold the old man Until he cooled down and dropped the hammer. 'If you like it so much,' he shouted at me, along with a few choice Florentine curses, 'you finish it!' It turned out he was serious--he didn't care if I worked on it, as long as it was kept out of his sight." He patted the edge of the drawing. "Well, I was not letting this go. It's too beautiful, even with the missing limbs. And all that work--eight years of his hammer to the chisel, dust flying Up his nose and in his eyes, chips raining down his back--for nothing. No. It took ten men to inch the Unfinished block out of his studio and down the arcade to the little room the Maestro said I could Use as a studio, but I was keeping it." He looked at me over his shoulder. "Would you like to see it?"
I glanced at the door.
"I will have you back downstairs before Francesca returns. No one will be the wiser."
As the Angelus bells began to clang, our eyes met.
He picked Up a lamp. I do not
Similar Books
A Southern Exposure
Alice Adams
Shattered
Kailin Gow
Deadly Betrayal
Maria Hammarblad
Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance)
Abigail Graham
Holly's Wishes
Karen Pokras
Furious Old Women
Leo Bruce
The Bricklayer
Noah Boyd
The Demon King
Heather Killough-Walden
Crawl
Edward Lorn
Suprise
Jill Gates