Los Angeles Times
By Tracy Wilkinson
Times Staff Writer
May 4 2004

Florence, Italy -- Clambering down the scaffolding along the backside of Michelangelo's "David," a visitor can see the flaws up close: the purplish blemish, the yellowish stain, the small cracks.

"David's" perfect buttocks, it seems, are less so than once thought.

The icon of Renaissance male beauty has just had his first bath in 130 years, a meticulous, yearlong endeavor that stirred the age-old debate over how — and whether — to restore classic works of art. Freshly scrubbed, "David" will be formally unveiled later this month, in plenty of time for his 500th birthday celebrations in the fall.

The cleaning has left "David's" complexion a little pearlier than it has been in a very long time. It has also highlighted some of the colossal nude's less obvious imperfections, nicks and discolorations. "David" is showing his age.

And that's fine, says Franca Falletti, director of the Galleria dell'Accademia here in Florence, where "David" stands majestically in a domed room and is viewed by 1.2 million admirers a year.

"The statue must be beautiful for those who come to see him," Falletti said. "Of course, he's 500 years old, and it is not possible to take him back to the 16th century. It is right that people know he is old. Otherwise, it would [look like] a replica."

In a marvel for the ages, Michelangelo, commissioned by the Renaissance Florentine governors, chiseled the naked David from a single piece of damaged, poor-quality marble. David, the biblical figure who defeated the enormous ogre Goliath with nothing more than a slingshot, came to symbolize Florence's self-image as a small state that could conquer the larger neighboring states of Siena and Venice.

At 14 feet and 6 tons, "David" has had quite a time of it. For more than three centuries, from 1504, he dominated Florence's central Piazza della Signoria, standing before the Palazzo Vecchio and weathering the elements, lightning strikes, riots against the ruling Medici family and crowds that stoned him, climbed on top of him or dripped wax from their torches onto his muscular body. His wrist was cracked, an arm broke off, his patina yellowed.

In 1873, "David" was moved inside to the museum he now inhabits. (Not that that was a guarantee of safety: In 1991, a crazed Italian artist hammered off his toe.)

The last serious, if misguided, attempt to clean him up, a few years before his move indoors, involved a toxic mix of hydrochloric acid that dissolved the dirt and also much of the marble's natural surface.

Falletti and other senior officials involved in today's spit-and-polish project have taken great pains to describe the cleaning as something far less invasive than what history offered, and what critics feared.

Some of the purple spots on David's buttocks are thought to be a "biological attack" by bacteria produced by dampness in the years immediately following his move inside, Falletti said. The spots are very deep, she said, yet it is not likely restorers will attempt to repair them.

Art restoration is always a matter of passionate debate in Italy, where many of the world's greatest works of art reside. One school of thought favors simple preservation — that is, preventing deterioration. Other experts believe some amount of restoration is necessary to render a painting or statue closer to what the artist intended.

Everyone remembers the furor surrounding the restoration of Michelangelo's ceiling at the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. When the frescoes were unveiled, in joltingly bright colors, some art historians believed those cleaning the elaborate ceiling paintings had gone too far.

Work on "David," the sculpture's masterpiece, has been no less controversial.

After years of study, including X-rays and diagrams and mathematical calculations befitting a life-or-death surgery, the Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Italy's leading restoration institute for stone and marble, decided that "David" needed a once-over.

The main culprit, it was concluded, was a layer of gypsum that had settled on "David's" surface. Gypsum is a salt that can weaken the structure of marble.

Initially, experienced restorer Agnese Parronchi was chosen for the project. But she quit in a huff last year when her so-called dry method, using badger-hair brushes, cotton swabs and suede cloth to scrape away the dirt, was rejected.

The institute, along with the Accademia's Falletti and others, favored a "wet" method that uses water-soaked poultices and chose Cinzia Parnigoni as chief restorer.

For six months, Parnigoni labored away, often in full view of museum visitors. She climbed the scaffolding that encased "David" and worked inch by inch over the towering nude. She soaked pieces of Japanese celluloid paper in distilled water, then applied them to the marble for seconds or minutes, depending on the amount of grime.

The compresses draw out particles of dust and other contaminants, kind of like the way a Pond's beauty strip cleans the pores of someone's face.

Parnigoni emphasized that her work was neither a full restoration nor anything that would drastically alter "David's" appearance. "It's like taking off a shadow," she said.

Still, it was controversial. James Beck, an art historian from Columbia University, founder of ArtWatch International and perennial opponent of restoration projects, launched a petition drive to protest the "David" wash. He rallied dozens of art experts from around the world to join his cause.

"All the statue needs is a good dusting," he told the Columbia News earlier this year.

The controversy received huge amounts of attention and publicity and put Accademia officials on the defensive. "The polemic was not among people who studied the problem or people who did restorations," Falletti said. "Because it was 'David,' everyone wanted to say something. It's because it's 'David.' "

Indeed, "David" inspires a form of reverie among many of those who come to see him and who feel what they describe as a "force" emanating from his imposing figure.

For Parnigoni, the job of washing him was the pinnacle of a career, a privilege that makes her the envy of many in her field. Art restoration in Italy is a profession dominated by women, in part because it is low paying and fraught with political minefields.

Parnigoni, a no-nonsense woman of 45, has worked in art restoration in Florence, the cradle of the Renaissance, for two decades. Years ago, she restored Michelangelo's "Prisoners," the series of statues that lines the hallway leading to "David." Each looks like a figure trapped in stone, each in a different stage of elaboration that illustrates Michelangelo's technique.

When she was tapped to handle "David," Parnigoni said she could hardly believe her luck. Sometimes she'd arrive at work at 6:30 a.m. and labor well past closing hour, when the ruckus of the tourists had long faded.

"I've worked on a lot of important things in 20 years, but I've never felt like I've felt in front of 'David.' I always saw 'David' as the man I'd like to have but couldn't. And now he's mine."

calendarlive.com: A purer 'David'
http://www.calendarlive.com/galleriesandmuseums/
cl-et-wilkinson4may04,2,4645466.story?coll=cl-home-more-channels
===========================================