Today is Michelangelo’s birthday. He was born in Tuscany, son of a banker turned farmer. As a boy, he didn’t care much for school– he just wanted to copy paintings from the walls of churches. At 13, he became an apprentice in Ghirlandaio’s workshop. Then off to the Humanist Academy where he was exposed to philosophers and writers and copious amounts of art and all things Renaissance.
At the age of 17, another pupil hit him in the nose, breaking it and leaving a nasty bump. If you look at his self-portraits after that point, you can clearly identify this. I always liked that about Michelangelo. It made me cling with pride to my own physical abnormalities like my extremely crooked middle fingers.
As a girl, good old Mike blew me away. He accomplished so much at a tremendously young age. The Pietà, Bacchus, David were completed by the time he was 26. Isn’t that nuts!? Iconic pieces that transcend languages and time, all created by someone we’d consider to be a kid these days.
He’s one of my favorite artists, if you couldn’t tell.
So here’s to you, Mike.