If you can say “Florence” without smiling, you either haven’t been to Florence or you possess a heart that might possibly have no respect for beauty. Aesthetic details infest the city; from the aromantic spices of a panini bought off Via dei Neri, to the red clay shingles fashioned by every erection. The art history nerd in me wasn’t a kid at the candy store, it was instead a sobbing autistic 33-year-old meeting his special-interest Disney character in a large furry mascot suit at long last. I adored my day in Le Gallerie Degli Uffizi, even if it was mostly just evidence that the Catholics are clearly hoarders. Interspersed amongst depictions of the lady madonna and her son’s unfortunate death were a convent of though-provoking pieces, such as the sculpture of Hermaphroditus [ref 1].
The museum’s hallways occasionally open into round rooms that are not intended to be entered, but admired. A single doorway connects the corridor to these circular chambers, all of which are obstructed by a velveteen rope with a queue of patrons awaiting their chance to gaze at the art inside. Viewing the sculpture of Hermaphroditus is an intentionally shocking moment. Displayed in a darkened room, a center-stage spotlight shines down on a solitary marble figure. I was struck by the presentation – so carefully curated, as if the committee responsible was run by both ends of the political horseshoe. “Queer sibling,” my internal monologue murmured, “are you being shamed, or are you being protected? Are you being jailed, or are you being honored?” The reclining form reveals both their penile organs and voluptuous breast to the viewer, yet averts their face. We are left to wonder: do they cower and sob, or peacefully smile on the other side?
I find that androgyny ranges from a state of being neither specifically masculine or feminine, to a state of being both. At least, that’s what my non-binary companion enlightened me with after they had A Moment in front of this coyly displayed artifact. Historically humankind has depicted androgyny with an abundance of gender (as seen with Hermaphroditus’ various external sexual organs) rather than as a blank canvas (think, Mae Martin vibes) [ref 2]. Regardless: both styles, the traditional binaries, and everything dappled around and between them are, of course, vaild. And I’d rather believe some queer af curator is both protecting and honoring good ol’ Hermz down at the exhaustively Catholic Uffizi.
References
1. The Uffizi website writes about Hermaphroditus, Unknown (2nd Century AD) and photographs the marble sculpture from both the front and the back.
2. Mae Martin’s Lumière joke from their comedy special SAP was aired on Netflix in 2023.
