When Things We’ve Enjoyed Come Full Circle
I went to a performing-arts high school, and one of the classes we took was on Commedia dell’arte—a clowning form originally from Italy in the mid-1500s. I never thought that class would come back to me decades later when looking at masks in Florence.
Commedia dell’arte wasn’t my worst subject, but I found it challenging. I’m not great at improv, and that’s most of what the unit was. It’s a mask-based art; as soon as you put on the mask, you become the character that hasn’t changed for the last 500 years. You get a stock character, a mask on, and then improvise a scene.
These archetypes have a lot of “play” within their dynamics; upstairs/downstairs conflicts (like aristocrats and servants), one-way love interests, misunderstandings gone awry. The unit that we did had nearly no language, just grunts and sounds instead of words and phrases.
I hadn’t thought about this unit for years in any detail—but in Italy, I found all the memories flooding back. Florence is full of mask shops dedicated to this art form!
There were two mask shops that really stood out to me: Alice’s Masks, which offers classes for anyone wanting to make their own mask, and Studio Arte Becucci, where I got to explore not only masks, but mask jewellery, knickknacks, and postcards of the archetypes.
There are both “old-fashioned” and “modern” archetypes of a 500-year-old art form. This surprised me—the “modern” version is from 3 centuries ago! The modern versions refer to archetypes made popular in the 18th century, “harlequins”, according to the Met Museum. At Studio Arte Bucucci, I picked up some postcards, thinking I’d keep them as either art for my home, or send them to an old chum from my drama-school days. I also found out that the owner can create custom masks, and also hosts workshops!
(A “no phones” policy for the bespoke masks limits pictures. Always ask before you click!)
If you’re looking for a unique souvenir for the theatre-lover in your life, a custom-made Commedia dell’arte mask from a Florence class is the answer to your problems. You can book classes through vendor websites. You can also search Tripadvisor for a class under the “things to do” menu.
I didn’t do a class—by the time I’d found the shops, my time in Florence had become limited. Still, as I was wandering around the city, I wondered—why do these mask shops inspire joy?
I feel like growing up is realising that two big, opposite ideas can be true at the same time. The family members I’d kill for are also ones I’ve considered killing. I love sweet things, but too much of them makes me sick. And although I travel to experience new things, sometimes the things I seek are what’s most familiar to me.
It’s the sounds, smells, and tastes that I’m most comfortable with that I gravitate towards abroad. I don’t think I’m alone here. We all want to feel comfortable, to feel at home.
Even when it’s not “useful” right away, I think learning is always a gift. You fall down a rabbit hole on Wikipedia, and 10 years later that info is helping you win pub trivia. One day your work takes to a location you’re familiar with from wandering around a museum. I know friends who love Heated Rivalry so much that they ended up at their first hockey game.
I’m not exempt from this either. My high school boyfriend’s obsession with Star Wars movies had me watching them to connect with him. Now that knowledge gives me a keener sense of excitement for the new generation of Star Wars media.
My time learning Commedia dell’arte wasn’t great—it never feels good to be bad at something publicly (and clowning is very public!). But I also associate it with a time in my life where I was full of joy. I was surrounded by friends, trying new things, and less self-conscious of my place in the world. I think that’s the feeling that came rushing back to me in the mask shops.
Maybe it’s being in Florence, or maybe it’s the romantic in me. Maybe it’s both. But my time in mask shops made me realise: even if you’re bad at something, like I was with Comedia Dell’arte, things we once hold dear can still bring comfort when rediscovered. The things we pour our hearts into—through studying, examining, or just because they’re fun—can pour back into our hearts when we need them. No love, however seemingly small or silly, is wasted.
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