In fifteenth century Florence, The Renascence
Was fueled by Florentine bankers.
They didn’t do things much different than bankers today,
Profiting off wars and calamity,
Buying cheap and selling dear,
All the usual despicable things, but,
Living in a god fearing society,
Going to hell scared the crap out of them,
And, even though buying indulgences does not work,
They tried to buy their way into God’s graces
By commissioning religious paintings and statues and whatnot.
They became patrons of the arts out of fear.
Today, it seems, they’ve lost their incentive.
They’re not worried about going to hell anymore.
If tanking the world economy and profiting off its bones
Doesn’t put the fear into you, nothing will.
I don’t know.
Maybe they’ve made one of those Faustian bargains?
Maybe it’s just business as usual
And they’ve had to trim a little fat?
Or maybe they’ve got the artists
Squirreled away in some dungeon producing just for them,
Applying thumb screws to get the kind of art they want?
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