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Intentional Invitations and Hunger Satiation |
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written
by daw84 / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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The depths of Rome can only be truly reached in Rome itself. Many elaborate ceiling frescos are impossible to fully appreciate apart from close-up pictures revealing their intricate details, and art history books enhance the viewer’s capability to fully appreciate the art by providing vital background information to pieces. However, pictures and books are far from the true experience intended by the artists, designers, and architects. They intentionally constructed every single aspect surrounding their creations, and invited each of us to approach their works in a specific fashion in order to enhance the effectiveness of their pieces.
The gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach as they approach “The Mouth of Truth” is unavoidable. Nothing is particularly intimidating about the fading lion’s head engraved in the round piece of rock. In fact, the piece’s simple design is not impressive in size and lacks any truly outstanding features. However, the impact of the piece is centered around its powerful, intimidating name, “The Mouth of Truth.” Furthermore, the small hole forming the lion’s mouth is possibly the most terrifying space in all of Rome. One lie, and your hand shall be lost forever upon entering the small opening surrounded by the bared lion’s teeth. The piece’s power does not lie in its artistic mastery, but in its ability to control the viewer as they approach. The designer of this odd work surely knew that the idea would strike fear into the hearts of those approaching it, and used their fear of the truth and vivid imaginations perfectly to extend the menacing invitation to place ones hand into the threatening mouth.
The pristine park on top of the Aventine Hill has the most beautiful view in all of Rome. The approach to the park, however, issues a challenge to all who would dare to enter. From the Via S. Maria in Cosmedin, the only view to the Parco Savello is a long, hot, cobblestone road lined with high brick walls, culminating in an even-higher wall with a tiny barred gate in the center. The gate is the focus, and it continually mocks those who climb, as they constantly run the risk of trekking up the hill, only to find the gate locked and their toil in vain, as they must experience the paradise within only through iron bars. Also, at the base of the hill, lost in the midst of tall buildings, no one could possibly imagine the park’s lush green grass, tall fruit trees, or breathtaking view. The intentional design of the long, grueling approach to the park serves to challenge and invite you to climb up. In doing so, it enhances the effect of the gorgeous view above. Remembering the intense physical and mental struggle to reach the top and knowing the feint of heart would have given up long ago, the view of St. Peter’s Basilica is met with far greater satisfaction than if it had been accessible by an easier means.
The third example of intentional invitation through construction lies adjacent to the Parco Savello in the Basilica di S. Sabina. Upon entry, immediately the triumphal arch draws your attention. Lining the arch is a series of 17 circles, the top of which contains an image of Jesus. On either side of Jesus, the next seven circles are filled with heads of saints, but at the bottom are two mysteriously empty circles. They seemingly invite you into the family of the saints immortalized on the arch. Each circle building up to the next, Jesus at the top of the arch seems to beckon you up onto the wall through dedicating your life to the service of the church. Again, the intentional design of the creator invites you to become intimately involved with their artwork, and they use that influence masterfully to impact you in the deeper ways than solely their artwork would empower them to do.
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Part 3: |
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The central market at the Piazza Testaccio has been feeding people for thousands of years. Personally, nothing is more distracting and detrimental to my attitude than an empty stomach because the gnawing hunger is all I can think about. So the market after the long morning walk was like a beacon of hope to me, in dire need of nourishment.
The first thing that draws you in is the coolness of the inner shade. It momentarily distracts me from my hunger. You can feel that you’re nearing its source as you walk past the jumbled outer shops with their tables piled high with shoes of all shapes and sizes. They only mock the cool feeling however, and all I want is to be inside where it’s cool. Meanwhile, I feel overwhelmed and pulled in a thousand directions by the mountains of sneakers surrounding me. Where is the way through this mess into the haven of the indoors?
After finally entering the cool space, the colors again distract me from my quest for food. Fruits, all of vibrant colors are arranged about me. The smell is almost overwhelming as well, a cacophony of every fruit grown under the sun. Finally, however, my hunger gets the best of me, and, knowing fruit would only temporarily satiate my immense hunger, select a medium-sized stand with a friendly-looking man working the bakery. I ordered a small, meat pastry which absolutely melted in your mouth when it touched your tongue. It was heavenly!
Unlike many who make their living at places such as the Piazza Testaccio, or those who consider mounds of inexpensive shoes appealing, I left the market without the intense desire to go again. However, it did, at least partially, meet my fundamental need for food, so for that I am grateful.
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