In this guest blog post, two panelists from the Ceræ-sponsored sessions on ‘Premodern Timeliness and Timelessness’, Elizabeth Sandoval and Leonardo Colicigno, share their experiences of attending Leeds IMC 2026. Thank you, Leonardo and Elizabeth, for joining us at this year’s event!
If you would like to be involved in the Ceræ-sponsored sessions at Leeds IMC 2027 – we would like to hear from you! Our Call for Papers is currently open and submissions are due by 11:59 PM (GMT) Monday 7 September 2026.
Traversing medieval time across geographies
In CERÆ’s panel ‘Premodern Timeliness and Timelessness, III: (De)Construction and Depiction of Time’ Theresa Rice, Cristian David López Ushakov, and I discussed time from sixth-century France to late fifteenth / early sixteenth-century Spain, and throughout centuries in Russia. Theresa explored the use and patterns of time in early miracle stories written by Gregory of Tours, offering a counter argument to scholarship that dismisses the saint’s writings as disorganised and merely repetitive of older tales. Cristian dove into the etymology of terms, such as “slave”, while historiographically analysing how Russians and Russian historians have understood the Nomadic Steppe people. Their papers were thoughtful and engaging! I presented an iconographical study of a Valencian painting of the Adoration of the Shepherds, which I argue references Adorations of the Magi by possibly depicting one shepherd as Jewish, Islamic, African, or a mixture of all three “others”, during a restoration.
Though our topics were rooted across medieval time and geographies, and though we are coming from the fields of theology, history, and art history, we had a very fruitful discussion that ranged from talking about numbers, angels, and terminology. I felt that our panel and discussion encapsulated some of the best features of the annual IMC: it brings scholars from different disciplines together, inevitably strengthening our individual projects while reflecting how innately linked our medieval research interests are. We also are at different stages of our careers: Cristian is beginning his second year of his doctoral work, while Theresa recently graduated with her doctorate and will serve as a Visiting Professor at Aquinas Institute of Theology next year. I am a curator and early career professional.
Their questions have helped me to think further about how Spanish exploration of the Americas may have played a role in both the pigment choice and figural distortions in the restorative work, for instance. This experience was one of the most productive panels in which I’ve participated, and I am grateful to CERÆ for making it possible!
Elizabeth Sandoval, PhD, Assistant Curator, Williams College Museum of Art.
Beyond the Renaissance: The Neo-Gothic Landscapes of Florence’s Periphery
When we think of Florence (Italy), the mind often defaults to the familiar, sun-drenched Renaissance grandeur of the city centre. Yet, my recent research explores a vastly different, ‘hidden’ side of the city’s evolution: the peripheral landscapes of Scandicci and Quartiere 4 di Firenze at the turn of the 20th century. While Giuseppe Poggi’s Neo-Renaissance urban planning was busy constructing a unified national identity in the city core, these outskirts were becoming the focal point for a rigorous, stone-based Neo-Gothic revival, deeply influenced by the Anglo-American colony on the hill of Bellosguardo. In the Florentine and Scandiccese context, the revival often looked back to the iron-willed and stony, austere Gothic of the medieval republican era—a deliberate homage to a tradition of civic independence and communal strength. Conversely, in the villas commissioned by ‘English expatriates’—much like the architectural trends that found fertile ground across the British settler societies of Australia, New Zealand, and Canada—the aesthetic focus shifted. Here, the ‘Gothic’ revival was filtered through the stylistic legacies of the Henrician, Edwardian, and Richardian eras, alongside the enduring allure of the Tudor, Jacobean, and Georgian styles. In those colonial territories, as in the hills surrounding Florence, these styles acted as silent ambassadors of a ‘domesticated’ history. Whether through intricate furniture, architectural motifs, or interior design, these movements provided a crucial sense of historical continuity to societies in rapid transition, serving as an anchor in a world redefined by the volatile, often ruthless pace of modern development.
This Florentine Neo-Gothic revival is inscribed in the architecture of villas, chapels, and both Roman Catholic and Protestant cemeteries—including the Castle of Torregalli and its Gentile-Farìnola Chapel, the Villa Pasquali da Cepperello, the church of Santa Maria a Greve, and the Soffiano or Gli Allori cemeteries. Here, we find a peculiar stylistic signature: an eclectic language oscillating between the ‘rocky’ textures of a late medieval idiom and the delicate tints of Neoclassicism. This was not mere aesthetic posturing; it was a reconstruction of the Middle Ages driven by architects, engineers, and housing co-operatives who transformed the study of History (and Art History) into a sort of ‘cult’. Behind these structures lies a diverse class of patrons: emerging industrial entrepreneurs, ambitious professionals of the new Italian State, and international residents. Much like the gente nova famously described by Dante Alighieri (Inferno XVI, 73-75), these individuals arrived in the area following the 1865 proclamation of Florence as the capital of the Kingdom of Italy. Crucially, it was in this very year that the municipality of Casellina e Torri (the historic name of Scandicci until 1929) was established. With the subsequent transfer of municipal offices from Palazzo Uguccioni —located in the magnificent Florentine Piazza della Signoria — to the Scandicci Basso plain in 1868, a rapid process of urbanisation began. Throughout this transformative period—which would eventually culminate in the formalisation of the current municipal boundaries in 1940—both Neo-Medieval and Neo-Renaissance architectures became the primary tools for forging a distinct ‘Scandiccese’ identity. Through these buildings, they constructed an ‘ideal’ bridge between their present and a romanticised past—a time when political and spiritual authorities were supposedly in symbiosis. It was, in many ways, an attempt to anchor themselves to a stable tradition at a moment when their own socioeconomic standing was being challenged by the rapid, often volatile rise of modern Capitalism. Presenting this research from my desk in Scandicci—a municipality that underwent a massive building boom between the 1960s and 1970s—offered a unique, almost disorienting perspective. My office sits in an urban landscape that largely erased the campagna felix sung by poets and immortalised by artists like Thomas Patch in his 1775 painting A Panoramic View of Florence from Bellosguardo (Paul Mellon Collection, Yale Center for British Art, New Haven, USA). There is something inherently visceral, even surreal, about discussing these architectural remnants while situated in the very heart of their modern, dense urban sprawl. It forces a collision between the archival research—the ‘ghosts’ of the Neo-Gothic revival—and the stark, concrete reality of the present day. This juxtaposition was not a distraction; rather, it became the crucible of my analysis. It challenged me to look beyond the static image of the monument and see these buildings as active, albeit fragile, witnesses to a lost social fabric.
Image: Detail of the Neo-Medieval lion mask carving in a quatrefoil frame, Palazzina “dei Leoni”, Florence. Photograph Leonardo Colicigno, 2022.
This digital participation at the IMC (Leeds, UK) was, therefore, more than just a conference engagement; it served as a vital dialogue between my immediate, lived environment and the global scholarly community of medievalists and ‘neo-medievalists’—a necessary exercise in bridging the gap between historical memory and the rapid, often ruthless, pace of modern urban development. It is always rewarding to participate in events that connect the world and challenge us to rethink that complex, marvellous period we call the Middle Ages. It was a time that laid the foundations for our ‘modern identities’ and local languages: from Dante’s fiorentino, which would eventually forge the Italian language, to Chaucer, whose English gifted us masterpieces like The Parliament of Fowls and The Canterbury Tales. It was a world where German, English, Scots, French, Tuscan, Neapolitan, Venetian, Bolognese, Catalan, and even Arabic and Byzantine influences were all part of a sort of ‘great res publica litterarum’—a space where pagan, Islamic, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox Christian elements intertwined to shape the foundations of our modern Western civilisation.
Leonardo Colicigno is an independent researcher and a museum professional affiliated with the Museum System of the University of Florence (Sistema Museale di Ateneo) since 2022. He holds an MA in Art History (2020), with a thesis on the medieval iconography of Hercules, which was subsequently published in the IX Ciclo di Studi Medievali (2023). His research focuses on the diachronic evolution of the Tuscan territory, integrating rigorous iconographic and iconological analysis with historical urbanism and urban sociology—specifically examining the social impact of the ‘architecture of power’ from the 19th to the 20th century. A regular speaker at international conferences (including ICMS Kalamazoo [USA] and IMC Leeds [UK]) and the author of various peer-reviewed publications, he combines scholarly investigation with an active commitment to Public History and the promotion of cultural heritage in the Florentine hinterland. His research interests are equally devoted to the authentic Middle Ages and its subsequent cultural reinvention in the modern era.