MidReal Story
Rivalry and Renaissance: Raphael's Artistic Odyssey
Anonymous
Apr 23
Scenario:A comic storyboard based on the life of Raphael, one of the three Renaissance masters.
Create my version of this story
Florence, 1494
I stepped off the dusty road and into the city of Florence, my father’s hand heavy on my shoulder.
The heat was intense, the air thick with the scents of sweat and animals, but I barely noticed.
The weight of my father’s hand felt like a warning, and I wasn’t sure why.
Surely Florence couldn’t be that bad?
I’d never been to the city before, but I’d heard plenty about it and seen pictures of its beautiful buildings and famous art.
I couldn’t wait to explore it and see the great works of art for myself.
My father stood beside me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders in a hug.
I turned to look at him and saw a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes.
He was a handsome man, with dark hair streaked with silver, and kind brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
I’d been told time and time again that I looked like him, but as he was much older than me, I saw it as an insult.
Now I could see that we truly did look alike and I was proud of that.
“Look around you, my son,” he said, waving his hand at the city that stretched out in front of us.
“This is Florence, the heart of the Renaissance.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, looking around at all the people who were going about their business in the busy city.
The streets were teeming with people, all dressed in the latest fashions and speaking with different accents depending on where they were from.
The men wore brightly colored tunics over their leggings, while the women wore long dresses with puffed sleeves and tight waists that showed off their figures to perfection.
The clothes were different from those in Urbino, where we lived, where the men wore silk doublets over their shirts and the women wore long gowns with square necklines and tight-fitting bodices.
The people were different too; they looked different and spoke differently.
“This is not just any city,” my father said solemnly as we began to walk through the streets.
“Florence is a beacon of culture and intellect; a place where art is nurtured and celebrated.”
He stopped walking for a moment to point out a group of men who were talking animatedly in front of a building that looked like a palace.
“Look at those men; they are some of the greatest artists and thinkers of our time,” he said proudly.
I looked up at him in surprise.
Who would have thought that we’d see artists standing around talking when we first arrived in Florence?
We may even get to meet some of them if we’re lucky.”
My father’s eyes sparkled with excitement as we continued to walk through the streets.
I felt a thrill of excitement in my chest; this was where my journey truly started.
