At the feet of Masters

Ghirlandaio, his first master, made him sketch his left hand over and over again.  The young apprentice, in a fit of arrogance, sketched his right hand with his left.  The mentor remained unimpressed.  When he moved to sculpture, Bertoldo, the master, would not allow the artist who would eventually create David and the Pieta, to touch marble for two years. His masters and mentors knew of his potential but never revealed it to the young genius, recognizing that complete dedication to the craft will bring discipline to the artist and that will allow the genius to be revealed.   Both masters knew, that both teachers and students are below the subject, supplicating themselves to it in order to allow brilliance to emerge.

Ghirlandaio and Bertoldo did not recruit the young artist to their studios and interestingly, Michaelangelo's parents showed little to no interest in his potential or his talent.   Oh, to have the Renaissance again; where young apprentices showed loyalty, humility and dedication to their craft and waited patiently for their genius to be recognized by their masters first and then the wider public.

I am reading Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy in preparation for our fall trip to Tuscany.  It popped to the front of my brain as I watched the Biosteel High School All Star basketball game this week. The Biosteel game (sponsored by a drink that tastes like liquid gum) brings together Canadian "all stars" to show off their talents.    The players spend a good deal of time banging their chests, pointing at their opponent, making three point signs on a rare make and mostly, roostering around the court.  I think I saw two passes the entire game, one of them was to a ref.  It is a depressing affair if you love the art of basketball.

When you watch the game, you know that everyone is playing for himself.  There is no team play here, no loyalty to the other, no discipline instilled by the coaches. The idea of a dedication to a craft is supplanted by the fake glamour of a staged game hosted by a liquid candy floss company.   You can see the parents, hanging their dreams on their young sons and you can see the athletes themselves, physical specimens to be sure, but as unskilled in the fundamentals of their craft as any journeyman sculptor.  Perhaps worst of all, you get the impression that the masters, the coaches, are either impotent on the sidelines unable to offer the apprentices anything of worth or are desperately hoping for their own minute in the sun.

Michelangelo sat at the feet of his masters.  He submitted himself to their teachings with humility and patience and with discipline.  He did this because he knew that his masters had sat at the feet of their masters with the same humility and discipline.  There must have been a great temptation to introduce the young protege to the world early, to show him off so that Bertoldo and Ghirlandaio could bathe in the light of his brilliance.  The teachers did not bend to the temptation.  We could learn from these two teachers.  If we don't, the world may never see another David again.