DOMENICO GHIRLANDAIO | Adorazione dei Magi | Uffizi, Sala 25 | Lingua originale (Spagnolo) | La narrazione e la voce sono di Lina Callupe | Leggi la scheda completa dell'opera su uffizi.it Domenico Ghirlandaio | Adoration of the Magi | Room 25 I was born on my father’s land. An immense estate. One part was in the hills, the rest was green meadowland, where his cattle grazed. There were three small communities around my father’s land. Sometimes the people would go to him to ask for a piece of land to cultivate, and my father would offer it for free. He recognized this need for land; his own was large enough to give some away. Also in this painting, by Domenico Ghirlandaio, there is a meadow. It opens out behind the figure of Mary, almost an empty space to emphasize her presence. The three wise men have just placed their signs of wealth on the ground. The crowded procession accompanying them follows the round shape of the painting, highlighting the importance of Mary and the Child. In the background, a hut inside the ruins of a temple symbolizes the advent of the time of Grace overcoming the Old Testament. Just like a slender bud finding its way. Further away, a port. Sky, land, sea... a limitless space. In the 15th century, the episode described by St. Matthew became an occasion to celebrate the wealth of art patrons. Ghirlandaio probably executed this painting for the Tornabuoni family; its round shape was unsuitable for the altar of a church, and in fact it was made for the Tornabuoni to worship in their own home. Some are portrayed with great precision in the two men kneeling to the right, and perhaps even the Magus turned towards us. A family reunion. Then, there is Joseph, absorbed in a tender look directed towards Mary. A little apart from the others, his face resting on his hand, he contemplates his wife and child. The figure of Joseph reminds me of my father. He was always so protective. But he wasn’t able to defend me when I was assaulted as a young girl, nor to placate my fear of possible revenge when the trial ended in my favor. My father didn’t want me to go away, but I was sure I could no longer live in Peru. I’m the one who decided to change life. The day I left for Europe, my father watched me from a distance. He didn’t say goodbye; he didn’t want me to leave. In the painting there are a few objects in the foreground, placed on a stone: a case for glasses, a saddlebag, and a water flask, just the essentials for a journey. I pick them up and leave, without looking back. I was just 22 when I decided to face the challenges of a new world alone. I left a familiar, wealthy and safe place behind me, to find myself tossed around as an illegal immigrant. When I came to Florence, the turning point: I joined the support groups for new immigrants, became involved in local politics, began to take on new responsibilities. In this initiatory journey, I passed under the ruins of times past, and crossed through the door of Mercy. The Magi too, perhaps, passed that way on their return to the East. A few months ago, I went back to my father’s house in the country. A nephew of mine was getting married. I saw how the family had grown, the kids now adults, the children of children. There, once again on the large meadow around the house, we had become a great family. The Magus in the foreground turns towards us, as if surprised by the people who continue to arrive in an endless flow of generations.

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