In the Light of Darkness: Kate Brooks

Spring showers and spring flowers have arrived here in Florence, along with a perspective of spring in the Middle East, seen in the above photo of a woman in Afghanistan walking through a field of opium poppies.  Part of the retrospective In the Light of Darkness, it is the work of  renowned American photographer Kate Brooks, currently on view at Tethys Gallery, via Maggio 58/r through May 1.

The show is part of a larger event entitled "Middle East Now," which includes a mini film festival at the Cinema Odeon, and an exhibition by Iranian photographer Newsha Tavokolian at the Otto art gallery directly across from Tethys on via Maggio 13.

Above is another photo by Kate Brooks, of a highly decorated (see the medals on her chest?)
paratrooper official, forced into early retirement and sent home when the Taliban became a powerful political force in her home country, Afghanistan.

Who exactly is Kate Brooks?  I have to confess, I had never heard of her until I flipped through "D,"
Repubblica's magazine for women.  I happen to detest "D" but it comes as a supplement to the paper's Saturday edition.  I was surprised to see that the exhibition was scheduled to open at my photographers' (Atlantide: Stefano Amantini, Guido Cozzi, Massimo Borchi) gallery, Tethys.
After an animated phone call with Stefano, he confirmed he had never heard of Kate Brooks either until Guido began working in collaboration with "Middle East Now."

In her mid-20s at the time, Kate Brooks went to the Middle East right after 9/11, moving first to Pakistan.  Determined to work as a photojournalist, she also wanted to document the impact of American foreign policy on the region, ultimately covering the invasion of Iraq and the ousting of the Taliban.  In the form of news stories and features, she has documented conflicts in Bagdad, Kabul and Beirut as well as social change in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia and Yemen.

Above is a group of Afghan women surreptitiously acting out a Shakespeare play at home.

Participating in this scene for Newsha Tavokolian growing up in Iran would have been impossible.   As a child she dreamed of being a singer--in a country where it is illegal for music soloists
to perform on stage or release a CD.
Instead of singing, she decided to document Iranian singers, photos of whom are featured at the Otto gallery.

For Tavokolian, photojournalism became her voice, and ultimately, her weapon in
a male-dominated society.

Below is the artist's self portrait.

As for her American colleague Kate Brooks, she now works for the New York Times, Time magazine,
 the Wall Street Journal, the New Yorker, Newsweek and other periodicals, never calling anywhere home but the Middle East since the Twin Towers exploded and the world changed.

This is Kate Brook in the field, quite a contrast to her Iranian colleague Newsha Tavokolian.
Makes you think...she's not wearing the helmet because she's having a bad hair day.
Wait a minute, when she packed her camera 11 years ago and up and left the U.S., she wasn't going to  a post fisso (a steady job or job for life, so dear to the Italians, less so to Premier Monti who publicly commented that he would find it boring).
How did she live before she became famous?  Now that's a story.

I actually met Kate at the Tethys opening, which became packed.  She was dressed soberly all in black and Guido Cozzi lifted a camera above the crowd to take photos of her (hey Guido, how about a shot to publish in Beautiful Florence?)


I spoke to her briefly--she was only in Florence briefly as she was returning on assignment to Lebanon a mere day-and-a-half after the show's opening.

This reminded me that there is work that remains to be done in the Middle East, and photos to take.
Part of Kate's body of work has recently been published in the book
In the Light of Darkness:  A Photographic Journey after 9/11.

This is the cover of the book.

These are Taliban in an Afghan prison.

One can only hope that the ray of light had the same effect as the one that 

knocked Saul off his horse in the New Testament, granting him 

a new life 

(and a new identity) as St. Paul.

Observing this from the safety of Beautiful Florence, having lived in Italy for many years and reported on art, I can only say that chiaroscuro (the interplay and contrast of light and shadow) is fundamental in a work starting with the Renaissance.

Kate Brooks is discovering light as well as shining some light

in an area with marked chiaroscuro.

The amazing result is beauty.

Listening Summit, Gargonza Castle

Doesn't the impressive location above look like a movie set?  Gargonza castle

 is not something Hollywood constructed but for real.

Located an hour and a half from Florence, Gargonza castle was built in the 1200s on a strategic hill between Arezzo and Siena.  Dante Alighieri stayed at the castle in 1304 when he was exiled from Florence.  In his Divine Comedy, Dante cites the surrounding valley, the Val di Chiana both in Inferno and Paradiso.  I confess I have not looked up his impressions.

I do confess, however, that the one and only time I had been previously to Gargonza was in the 1990s on assignment.  I had the pleasure of going up in a hot air balloon for a story I wrote for the Italian newspaper "La Repubblica."  More about that later in this post.

Fast forwarding to spring 2012, Gargonza Castle hosted a three-day Listening Summit.  Professors and students from the Florence campus of Pepperdine University, the University of Florence and LUISS-Guido Carli university in Rome met to discuss "U.S. - European Relations, the Economic Crisis and Beyond," in this ancient fortification.

The Listening Summit was presented by Pepperdine's International Programs Division as a pilot project at the school's campuses in Shanghai and Tuscany with the underlying philosophy, as expressed by Ralph Nicols, "the best way to understand people is to listen to them."

Involving American as well as Italian professors and students of political science and communication, examined were the causes and effects of international miscommunication and intercultural misunderstanding.  The lingua franca

was English the entire time, 

no simultaneous interpreters in sight!

Above are the professors who guided the Listening Summit 

(left to right): Prof. David Davenport of Stanford's Hoover Institute; Dr. Rick Marrs, Dean of Seaver College, Pepperdine University; Pepperdine Associate Professor Steven Lemley; Pepperdine Professor Milton Shatzer and LUISS Guido Carli Professor Roberto D'Alimonte.

As an eye witness, I cannot only say that we were privileged

 to listen to wise sages.

Among the topics they discussed were "U.S.-European Relations:  Through Which Lens: Crisis or Normalcy," (Davenport),

"A Union in Crisis--Is the Euro a Bad Idea?" (D'Alimonte), "The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict--Differing Views," (Shatzer), "Western Values Questioned," (Lemley) and a thought-provoking "Americans are from Mars, Europeans are from Venus," (Davenport).

On their part, students completed a survey regarding cultural attitudes and had a chance to put their beliefs to test in their small work groups (above) which had to come to a consensus on issues of foreign policy, culture, domestic policy and economy.

LUISS student Samantha Figeruero, along with Tibein Tedermet of Pepperdine and Michele D'Aloisio of the University of Florence examined the trade partnership between the U.S. and the European Union, which Listening Summit participants learned is

 the world's largest

 (and not China as is commonly believed).

Figeruero spoke for the group, "it would be best if both the E.U. and the U.S. would work towards a greater integration of the economies.  To move in that direction, we would like to see more long-term investment in the U.S. and greater consumer spending, at least in the short term, in the E.U."

All was not purely academic, however, at the Listening Summit.

As an icebreaker after dinner, Pepperdine University director Elizabeth Whatley hired two

professional instructors to teach the students ballroom dancing!

The students were asked to dress the part.

I admit that an instructor pulled me in for a few lessons.  My photographer, Marco Giacomelli,

tactfully did not point his lens in my direction, but focused on everyone else.

So much for cultural understanding.  After a couple of hours of serious and not-so-serious ballroom boogie-ing, disco music was put on and students danced until the wee hours of the morning.

Below is the view which waited for us later outside when we walked back the short distance to our lodgings, Gargonza's rooms and apartments.

Stunning, genuine Tuscany, wouldn't you say?  

So what were all these buildings?  Originally these were the homes of Gargonza's tenant farmers, who all left, with the abolition of sharecropping in the mid-20th century, for the big city.

The owner, Count Guicciardini Corsi Salviati, transformed the complex into a historic holiday residence.

The past is represented by the red doors, which Marco told me were characteristic of farmers' dwellings 

(case contadine) and the Italian three-wheeled utility vehicle, the Ape or "bee" named for the buzzing sound it makes when in movement.

During the Listening Summit, I met the Count's son, Neri, who remembered the hot air balloon excursions and the English pilot, Robert Etherington, very well (molto bene).  They were an attraction at Gargonza in the '90s until the pool was built for guests.

Well, 20 years later, I was impressed by the dialogue created at the Listening Summit as well as the complete renovation of the complex (I remember '60s furniture when I originally stayed over in the '90s).

The experience reminded me of seeing the incredible view of countryside and cities from the hot air balloon.

The entire spirit of the event and the place--dialogue, change, peace and poetry--is captured by the following photo I asked Marco to please take.

In all my years here, I had never before seen fragrant hyacinths actually blossoming in the sweet earth of beautiful Tuscany.

Easter 2012 in Florence

Spring has sprung here in Florence, as shown by the view from our office window at Borgo degli Albizi.

Here in the courtyard of a Renaissance palace, our fig tree is in leaf--if you look closely you will even see tiny figs--with pale violet of a climbing wisteria in the background.


New life, that is Easter's universal theme.  When I cast about for a subject for this post,
 I remembered an Easter article of mine that was published in the national insert of the International Herald Tribune on the unveiling of the newly-restored Giotto crucifix in Santa Maria Novella along with Masaccio's Trinity fresco in the same church.  A sidebar (related story) on the same page that I also wrote was on Easter traditions and happenings in Florence, including the famous Parenti Easter egg display.


Già, Parenti.  Beautiful Florence's faithful blog photographer Allison Clark and I headed over to the Parenti shop on via Tornabuoni, where it has been located since 1865.
Twelve years ago, I wrote about Parenti's famous Easter egg collection displayed in the window for passersby to see.  Now Allison and I are arriving at the shop, our reflection in a silver Easter egg.

You may notice the bronze dancing figure close to the egg.  This Easter, Parenti is also displaying the bronze figures of Florentine sculptor Antonio Crivelli on the theme of form freeing itself from matter, symbolizing subsequent spiritual elevation.

This is one of the Crivelli exhibits we found in an Easter installation
outside the shop.


Inside, we feasted our eyes on Parenti's precious Easter eggs of porcelain, wood, enamel and gold.
The kind owner, Giuliana, explained to us that painted egg is an Easter tradition because it represents "the emergence of new life and the transcendence achieved with the Christian resurrection."

"The elaborate chiseled workmanship reflects the richness of the soul's hidden depth," she said.


This Easter, the theme of resurrection is especially close to Giuliana's heart since her husband Michele, great-grandson of the Parenti founder, passed away last December.


"Florence has always been the city of art and humanism, consequently what it produces is luxurious and of high quality,"  she told us.  "Good taste is innate to Florentines, as is freedom of choice."


As living proof of this philosophy, while we were speaking, a woman from Siena came in asking about 
an antique necklace of coral and jade.
Giuliana took it out of the shop window.

"Try it on," she said to the lady, who asked in turn, "how much does it cost?"


Giuliana answered calmly, "30.000 euros ($45,000)
Wow!  She even laid it down on my 
Beautiful Florence diary.

Gorgeous.  The Sienese woman answered, "I'll have to come back here with my husband."


Well to feast the eye on beauty costs nothing, so here are some more of Parenti's one-of-a-kind Easter eggs.

Too unique to break open.


Speaking of feasting the senses, another Easter tradition is the chocolate egg.
Vestri on Borgo degli Albizi has some of the city's best, in dark chocolate,
chocolate hazelnut, milk chocolate, almond chocolate, even sugar-free chocolate for diabetics.
These delectables may be custom-ordered.

Here is Leonardo Vestri proudly holding one of his handmade chocolate creations like a trophy.
The chocolate egg is hollow, and is meant to be broken open also to discover the hidden surprise inside,"which can be personalized,"
says Leonardo.

Of course, beautiful packaging is important as well in Beautiful Florence, and the decorated egg plus wrapping and bows is a better bargain that the 30.000 euro antique necklace.
The average price is 20 euro.  Here is one artistic example at Vestri.

Buona Pasqua!

U.S. Musicians & Artists at the Pergola

Florence is celebrating the 500th anniversary of explorer Amerigo Vespucci's birth in 2012 with a whole series of events highlighting cultural contributions by natives of the U.S.  The American continents were  given Amerigo's name by a German mapmaker of the period. 

One more recent evening at the historic 16th century Teatro della Pergola was dedicated to American artists living in Florence and a concert given by the Pacifica Quartet from the United States.
In keeping with the current John Singer Sargent show at Palazzo Strozzi, the oil paintings exhibited in the foyer of the Pergola were beautiful examples of classic realism, which in the entire world is taught exclusively in Florence by American and Canadian artists.

Here are artists Charles H. Cecil and Matthew Collins, standing next to their works, a landscape and a portrait.  Matt is a former student, now a teacher at the Charles H. Cecil Studios, an atelier where aspiring artists are taught the classical approach to oil painting, based on a realistic perception of nature and the humanistic values of the Renaissance.  Cecil himself has been trained in this method, having studied painting with R.H. Gammell in Boston (who in turn was influenced by the naturalism of Florence-born
John Singer Sargent) and Richard Lack in Minneapolis.

Here is a thoughtful viewer, Robert Shackelford, admiring a portrait carefully done from life by Cecil.  An amateur artist himself, Shackelford is the director of Harding University in Florence as well as the secretary of the Association of American College and University Programs in Italy (AACUP).
The works were done using "sight size," where in order to represent a subject and its background
in gradations of light and shadow according to scale, Charles and Matt are accustomed to stepping back a given distance from the picture, in order to depict it in correct proportions.

The exhibition and the concert drew a large crowd, including such fellow American artists resident in Florence as Richard Maury and his wife Anne.  Richard is picture above, wearing a beret with his hand on Anne's shoulder.

The Maurys, like Cecil, were honored by the American Consulate in 2005 with a first-ever exhibition by professional American artists in Florence.  The show was set in the lemon garden (limonaia) of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, a venue granted by then-president of the Province of Florence,
Matteo Renzi, now the current mayor.
Richard Maury is especially known for paintings of everyday life, depicting scenes and people
 with a naturalness, lifelike detail and precision.
Anne Maury, too, is known for her accuracy, one dedicated to botanical illustrations.
Both the Cecil Studios and the Maury home/studios are located on Florence's "Left Bank,"
 the neighborhood of artists and craftsmen, the Oltrarno.

There was also a young art student from the Angel Academy representing realism in the foyer of
the Pergola Theatre.  Hayley Laura Brown was as lovely as her painting:
"Still Life with Roses," (2012) oil on linen.

The theatre began to fill up with American residents, including American university faculty, in addition to U.S. Consul General in Florence Sarah Morrison and
Florence city councilwoman Cristina Giachi.  The two women arrived just as the
concert was about to start, so they entered the Saloncino.


Consul General Morrison looked at the program and commented that, contrary to advance publicity, at least by looking at the names, the musicians did not appear to be American.
Apart from Sibbi Bernhardsson, who was born in Iceland,
the members of the Pacifica Quartet, which they named for the ocean off California, are American.
Even Simin Ganatra, who introduced the encore--a Beethoven piece--in an unmistakeable
American accent.  Named America's 2009 Ensemble of the Year, the group has been appointed
quartet-in-residence at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The audience's unanimous consensus was that
 the classical performance was excellent.
After the mandatory Old World opening--as we are in Florence, it was Beethoven of course,
the Pacifica Quartet played Elliot Carter's String Quartet #5 (1995).  The American composer, born in 1908, is still alive and kicking.  The composition, to the untrained ear, full of odd plucked sounds and dissonance, was clearly contemporary music.  American resident Susan Arcamone, who was in the audience, said the music was meant to represent discordant communication among the inhabitants of a nursing home, mirroring disturbance in sending and receiving messages.  I like the theory, however, I have not found out whether it is actual fact.

After the intermission, the Pacifica Quartet interpreted the "American Suite" by Dvorak (1841-1904), who composed it in Iowa on vacation from a teaching job in New York.  "American Suite" was to influence generations of American composers, including Charles Ives and the aforementioned Carter.   There are no clear, acknowledged American influences in the piece, apart from the literal transcription of birdsong!  It was chirped by a loud-voiced Scarlet Tanager (maybe the musician above is wearing red in tribute), a relative of the cardinal, who was visiting Dvorak's back yard during his artist-in-residence days in Iowa.

Home Sweet Home

Viareggio Carnival Winners

The grand prize winner of the Viareggio Carnival float competition (see previous post,

 Carnival Time & Viareggio)

was not one of our favorites, but could have been yours.  

The float is called Santo Subito (Sainthood Now!)

proclaiming the ironic canonization of 

former Italian prime minister Berlusconi,

conferred because of the all the "good" he achieved for 

the Italian people.

See the halo around "angelic" Berlusconi?

Here, as when he was in office, Berlusconi's candidacy for

sainthood is supported by world leaders, including U.S. President

Barack Obama (above).  The latter group is symbolized as members of the a parallel power structure,

high ranking members of the Church's hierarchy,

promoting Berlusconi's cause.

Second prize was assigned to a float entitled "Grandeur"

featuring French leader Sarkozy as a modern-day Napoleon

parading through the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

Apparently the Italians wanted to express that Sarkozy

ha la testa montata (i.e. is a little man in a big role)

dictating to Europe just as Napoleon did.
The unspoken message is that pride comes before a fall.

As the reader can see from this and the previous post, the floats, remarkable pieces of pop art,

are nearly 40 ft. high and pulled by concealed tractors.

With the proclamation of the winners, the Carnival celebrations are officially over,

and we are in the Lenten season, moving towards spring,

 Easter and resurrection.

     

Carnival Time & Viareggio

Carnival, the period preceding Lent in European Catholic countries such as Italy, is a time to reflect on last year's events.  In Tuscany, this reflection manifests itself in the form of a parade of satirical papier-mache carri (floats) at the Viareggio Carnival.  Taking hundreds of hours to assemble, the building-size floats proceed a seaside boulevard in competition, according to size, 

for a grand prize.

Although Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, took place last week, the Viareggio Carnival continues this weekend (Sat. March 3 at 7 pm and Sun. 4 at 2:30 pm) with the final parades, awards ceremony and fireworks.  

Where else but Italy can you bend the rules?

Last Tuesday, on Martedi Gras, I had fully intended to see the Carnival from the press platform along with Allison Clark, the Beautiful Florence's current official blog photographer.  Then I was called suddenly to a meeting at the U.S. Consulate in Florence regarding our Amerigo & America project, so I sent Vista writer Rita Kungel instead.  The following blog post is a melange of impressions of the three of us (I am familiar with the Carnival, having reported on it for Vista.  Be patient, 

our new web site is in progress).

I realized it was Martedi Gras when I walked past this butcher on via Senese near my home.

Next to his advertising "First Quality Meat," he posted a sign which communicated

"CLOSED on Feb. 22, Ash Wednesday."  In the Catholic faith, Ash Wednesday is a "fast day," i.e. no eating between meals and above all no meat.  

So Italian butchers took the day off.  Not bending the rules worked in their favor.

Back to the Viareggio Carnival, during which the Tuscans use their famous biting wit to comment on contemporary culture and politics.  I pass the pen to Rita.

"After an hour and a half train ride from Florence, Allison and I walked from the Viareggio station to the press office.  In my hand I had a letter, in Italian, to the Carnival contact who had granted us accreditation to the prestigious press stand.  The door to the official Carnival Foundation had a sign on it saying the office was closed until 3:45, an hour after the parade was to begin.  Having living in Italy for several years, I shrugged my shoulders and inquired a proprietor of a gift shop next door who told me that no press passes were necessary or admission charged today because it was Martedi Gras.  

Signora, tutto OK, she assured.

"A few minutes later there were still plenty of seats in the press stands, Allison and I went as high up as we could to get the best view.  The stands face the sea and the bright sunlight reflected off the water added to the festive atmosphere and the sense of anticipation in the air.  Within the next half hour, the crowds magically appeared, the stands filled up and the streets were crowded with people in elegant or absurd costumes, families of five all dressed as leopards, stilt walkers and a nearly nude Neptune--all throwing confetti in the air with abandon.  We could see down the street the massive papier mache floats 

waiting for the parade to begin.

"The enormous floats began to move slowly past the VIP and press stands.  They were all numbered, but in true Italian style appeared in random order, number 4 before number 1.  

I was never to find out why.

Allison and I agreed that our favorite was Ma dov'e questo crisis (But Where is This Crisis?).  A towering sea captain appeared, whom we first mistook for Francesco Schettino, the captain of the ill-fated, shipwrecked cruise liner Costa Concordia.  'Boy, they sure worked fast,' said Allison, given the disaster happened on January 13.  But in actual fact the captain represented was Mario Draghi, President of the European Central Bank.  His menacing figure and rolling eyes with a vulture on his shoulder emerged out of a listing Titanic.

"The heads of Portugal, Spain, Italy and France were perched on the edge of the deck, while an austere Angela Merkel--wearing a dirndl--held her hands out in a gesture of frustration.  Already over board was the Greek prime minister, an anchor dangling between his legs.  Heading the float was Silvio Berlusconi, grinning broadly, entangled between sea serpents and and sirens.  The view from the rear revealed that 'the emperors had no pants on."

Allison wrote, "The floats were decorated with smart political satire on a massive scale, proof that in Italy, even the ability to laugh at one's flaws can be reason for celebration."

The writings of Dante inspired the float Lasciate ogni speranza voi che entrate qui....all'agenzia

(Abandon All Hope You Who Enter Here...at the Agency, aka the Italian IRS), thanks to incessant requests for money from taxpayers.   Below is a detail of the float.

The sentence above is from my own preview of the event for Month by Month.  

I pass the pen again to Rita.

"The elaborate and beautifully painted floats involve artists and designers who work on them all year and hundreds of costumed people ride on them to sing, dance and interpret this theatre on wheels."

Again, from Month by Month:  in the float 2012:  Un solo futuro, il passato (2102, Our only Future is the Past), all of contemporary society's ills--armed conflicts, terrorism and environmental rape--are symbolized by the Tyrannosaurus, a tyrannical beast responsible for the extinction of his fellow dinosaurs.

See the waving palm tree?  This is the seaside boulevard in Viareggio.

The worst case scenario of this float is offset by the another float depicting a beautiful, multicolored Phoenix in flight rising from its own ashes.  Rita commented, "After depictions of environmental destruction, the ever-expanding Italian bureaucracy and other doom and gloom subjects, the mood suddenly changed, thanks to this float, the mood suddenly changed.  Queen's "We're the Princes of the Universe" blasted out and the crowd went wild.

Above is a beautiful detail of a beautiful float.  

Back to Rita.  "The floats compete for prizes and spectators can vote by calling or texting the number on the back of each.  An amusing twist is that the numbers on them are not consecutive, so the second float, our favorite, was actually number 7.  E' Italia!"

The final word to Allison:  "There were no barriers lining the road.  Crowds filled the street, parting only when the floats approached, threatening to run them over.  By late afternoon, the sunlight from the beach touched everything.  It was truly an amazing spectacle, between the colors, the costumes, the music and the confetti that clung to everything it touched, layering the street."

A Treat--Florence's Chocolate Fair

An unusual sight greeted my eyes in Florence's centrally located Piazza della Repubblica one morning this week.  Stands mounted by white tents are overflowing with every chocolate specialty known to man, and a few new ones as well.   I suddenly remembered

this is the first time that the Handmade Chocolate Fair 

(Fiera di Cioccolato Artigianale) was being held in the square.

Florence's Chocolate Fair, which will run until Sunday, February 19 (hours 10 - 10 pm) is an annual affair which started a few years ago on the city's outskirts in the ex-Teatro Tenda, before finding a home--up until last year--in Piazza Santa Croce.  I know that residents around Santa Croce are protesting the use of the square as a venue for concerts and fairs, and but the chocolate artisans could not be more thrilled than to set up in Piazza Repubblica, where everyone walks by.

This is so true, that it was the first time that I had ever actually seen the Chocolate Fair (although I had sent ecstatic interns to cover it).   The affair in the ex-Teatro Tenda had an admission fee--which was soon abolished.  I didn't like the sounds of that---although when we report on an event, we get in for free.
I, personally, am not fond of events staged in Piazza Santa Croce.  Plus, years ago, I had attended Tuscany's firstartisanal chocolate fair, Cioccolosità, 
in hard-to-reach Monsumanno Terme near Montecatini.
There, I had the privilege of meeting Tuscan chocolate masters such
as Roberto Catinari and Andrea Slitti.

"What is this Chocolate Fair like?," I thought as I entered the square.  Almost like reading my thoughts, a piece of chocolate appeared in the air a few inches from my nose.

There appeared little choice than to take it and pop it in my mouth.
It was gooooood.
After it had melted, I reverted to being a journalist.  "Hey, where are you from?" I asked.

"Where do you think I am from?" said the chocolate master, all dressed for Carnival.  

"I am Venetian--my firm is called Cioccolateria di Venezia."


"What is your specialty?," I asked.  He pointed to a chocolate loaf which he called cremino,
milk chocolate layered with torroncino (almond crunch).
Slices can be purchased.

Behind the cremino are chocolate lollipops.  I realized what I had stumbled upon--
chocolate heaven.

My eye went next to a display of chocolate "Gucci" shoes.

They were selling for 15 euro a piece, not per pair.

Part of the justification appeared to come from the fact they were labeled "Gucci."  The name, however, only represented a flight of fantasy on the part of the chocolate master.  She admitted this to me in hushed tones.

At the next stand, my eye was drawn to what was a white chocolate dessert covered in what Italians call frutti di bosco or "woodland fruits" (strawberries, raspberries etc.)

The kind proprietor pulled out a healthier alternative--milk or dark chocolate filled with puffed farro, a Tuscan-type barley or spelt.  "Using farro, the treat has less fat and no extra sugar,"

she explained.

She is one of the Perugino chocolate artisans from Perugia (Umbria).

OOOH--I next stumbled upon the chocolate master behind one of the most famous chocolate cakes in Florence--Claudio Pistocchi.  At many a dinner, I have been served his no-flour, no gluten, no sugar chocolate cake, which represents guilt-free chocolate nirvana.

"I was a chef in a restaurant in Piazza Repubblica 22 years ago when I invented this cake," he said.  "I then sold it at my small food store near Ponte al Pino, which I closed six years ago to move to Ponte di Mezzo and devote myself entirely to chocolate."

"What does chocolate mean to you?" I asked this kind teddy bear of a man.  E la mia vita, he answered.  "I met my wife this way.  The first year in business, I made 600 chocolate cakes--now we make 100,000 in 12 months--all entirely by hand."

"Pure chocolate--we have been using pure chocolate and nothing else for 20 years.  We are passionate artisans."  I noticed the cake carries his signature--TortaPistocchi (literally:  Pistocchi's cake).

Well, there was nothing else to do but taste other gourmet treats at the Chocolate Fair...

 which was the free advertising for buying something on the spot.  My face probably resembled
that of another (very) satisfied customer---her expression said it all.

Reporting live from Beautiful Florence - Rosanna