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I sit up tall in my seat because good posture indicates the return of strength as the patient heals. Evidently, as your spine goes, so goes your resolve. Dr. Cynthia has suggested that I attempt to be direct in my communication with others. Inviting Angelo to join us is a solid first step.

An art historian from the academy introduces Professoressa Farah Adeel, the guest lecturer, an engineer from London who is an expert on marble excavation from the Italian Renaissance through the present. Her list of accomplishments is as long as the Via Grande. A lovely woman in her fifties, the professor wears a pleated brown skirt with a periwinkle-blue sweater, which brings out her dark eyes and golden skin.

Professoressa Adeel takes us through the history of mining in Massa-Carrara, displaying photographs on the screen behind her to dramatize her points and provide perspective.

A black-and-white photograph fills the screen. It’s an aerial view of the marble quarry above Carrara. Quarrymen dangle off the face of the mountain, secured by harnesses attached to thick hemp ropes.

“The men are strong, but the mountain holds all the power,” theprofessoressasays. “The old techniques have changed through modern automation, but the process remains a function of a man, a blade, and stone on that mountain. There’s a personal aspect to stonecutting that will never be replaced by a machine.”

Professoressa Adeel goes on to explain the typical workday of the men on the mountain. My mind wanders to Uncle Louie as images of young quarry miners through the centuries fill the screen.

Uncle Louie came to Italy at the invitation of his father’s cousin, who promised him a job on the mountain. His parents liked the idea of their party-boy son learning the family trade. I try to imagine Uncle Louie, a slight, skinny kid in his early twenties, working side by side with skilled quarrymen on the face of the mountain with nothing but a harness between the wall and certain death. No wonder Uncle Louie was invincible when he returned from Italy. He had risked his life mining marble; maybe that’s why he became the leading salesman of the stone in New Jersey. What’s a little creativeaccounting compared to outrunning a block of marble down the mountain?

La professoressareceives an appreciative round of applause when she concludes her talk. Conor invites Angelo and me to the podium to meet her.

“Ah,” Professoressa Adeel says when she takes my hand, “the three audience members who did not nap through my talk.”

“I enjoyed it,” I tell her appreciatively.

“You’re American?”

“Brand-new to Carrara,” Conor says. “Our families are in the marble business.”

“Lovely.” Professoressa Adeel smiles at me. She turns to Angelo and embraces him. “Come stai, Angelo?”

“Bene, bene.”

“You know each other?” I ask.

“A little. Angelo and I have been emailing about his work. He’s the best gilder in Tuscany, I’m told.”

“I’m interested in gilding too.” I look at Angelo.

“La professoressawants to see my work.” Angelo shrugs. He looks at Conor and then at me. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Studio La Strazza

This would never happen to me in Lake Como, New Jersey. It wouldn’t be likely that an esteemed professor and a fine artist would invite me along with a friend on a casual evening to learn about gilding. I am falling in love withmia dolce vita. It’s more than a new start on days like these. It’s an Italian do-over.

Via Regina is a narrow side street off the piazza along the shallow banks of the Carrione River. In Jersey, the Carrione would be astream; it’s so shallow, you can cross it at certain points without getting your shoes wet.

Angelo’s studio is a large workroom on the ground floor of a converted stable. When he unlocks the barn doors, we follow him inside. The scents of turpentine and beeswax greet us as Angelo turns on the lights to reveal a workshop of enchantments. Renderings. Tools. Sketches. Plans. “My dream,” I say as I take it all in. The walls are built from fieldstone; the crossbeams on the ceiling are outfitted with hooks, from the days when this place housed animals. Three long worktables set on horses are positioned close to shelves overflowing with books. Open cans house the brushes. Blocks of marble are organized neatly on the tables.

“Brava.” Professoressa Adeel looks around. Conor looks through the titles on the shelves as I examine blocks of Carrara marble carved with a fleur-de-lis.

Angelo stands beside me. “For the museum in Florence,” Angelo explains. “I am slow, and they wait.”

“Your work is quite lovely.” Professoressa Adeel leans down to examine the architectural ornaments closely.

Angelo brushes his cheek, then brushes the stone. When he brushes his cheek a second time, I ask him why.

“We use primers and sealers in the process for speed. But even when I use modern techniques, I brush my cheek once I have applied it; I wait for the primer to come to tack and then apply the gold. It’s personal. My own humanity binds the gold to the stone before I burnish it.”

“May I?” I open my sketchbook.

I sketch as Angelo applies gold to the stone. He taps the thin leaf to the carving in relief. He uses a tool that is a slim hammer on one end and a hook on the other. The points of the fleur-de-lis shimmer; as Angelo moves his brush over the inlay, the gold fills theembossing. Angelo stands back. “This is my own technique to seal the gold. Every gilder has his own style.”

“Please demonstrate.” Professoressa Adeel sits next to the worktable.