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Life in the Pantheon |
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written
by daw84 / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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Raising their voices in the silent expanse of the Pantheon early in the morning, the young boy’s parents berate him for running about and playing in such a reverent building. His leaping from one floating island of hope to another on the marble floor pattern was not inappropriate however. His joy gave joy to the Pantheon as well, for the building, though hundreds of years old, is still very much alive today.
The life of the Pantheon begins outside the building, where a critical observer will notice that, like every living creature, the idealized core of this masterpiece is enclosed in a far-from-perfect shell. A look from afar reveals stairs carved out of the domed roof leading ascending to oculus. Cracked and fading bricks coat the outer walls. Most obviously, the front entablature seemingly squashes the series of stumpy, crowded columns filling the porch. The imperfect outside makes the building vulnerable and real and draws the viewer inside to the true heart of the Pantheon, its dynamic interior.
As the Pantheon wakes up, light shoots through the tiny, widening gap in the massive, bronze doors to reveal the perfect interior of the building. Without the crowds, it is clear that the Pantheon draws much of its life from the floor, and all of the focus is downward. The perfect sphere filling the space buds off of the source of its life. The huge, domed marble just barely touches the suspended sphere in limbo between heaven and earth, as if holding it down with fragile strings in fear of the perfect shape floating off into space for all eternity.
As the day progresses, the crowds increase and the source of this dynamic building’s life shifts from the floor to the Great Eye. The oculus, which allows the inner sphere to interact with the surrounding world lets in a fine, defined beam of sunlight striking high on the inside of the dome. With the intimate interaction with nature comes risk, however, and gusts of wind howl in, through the bronze doors and up and out of the top. Thunder also, entering from the oculus high above, fills the space, powerfully reverberating throughout the building.
The culmination of the intimate interactions among the outside, inside, and base is most effectively seen during a rain storm. The rain flies over the gaping hold, pushed by the gusting wind outside. When the drops enter the building, they are immediately removed from the preceding chaos and freeze in time as they slowly fall to the floor. Each individual drop in the pouring rain can be seen. Nearing their destination, they accelerate at far greater rates than the force of gravity, to be sent crashing into the marble floor beneath. The massive drops pound the ground in a perfect sphere, the thirsty ground sucking the water down through the five small drains, the only imperfections on the smooth surface. The rain gives life to the entire Pantheon.
At the end of the day, the Pantheon is tucked in for the night. Clearing out the remaining stragglers hoping for one last glimpse at the darkening sky through the oculus above, the guards shut the massive bronze doors which clang shut to seal off the perfect interior. Even as the building sleeps however, it still pours out life. People of all ages march up to the door, pressing their faces up against the gap between the halves, hoping for just a glimpse of the sleeping giant within. Those who interrupt their days to bravely approach the locked building are greatly rewarded for their efforts, peeking through the crack, into the heart of the perfect enclosed sphere, and out through the oculus into all eternity.
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Part 2: |
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Entering Safeco Field, the proud home of the Seattle Mariners, I always bound up the last few steps up into the stadium to see the field explode in front of me in all its glory. Energy shoots through my veins as I am welcomed by the expansive space. The sight of the vibrant colors, the smell of the ballpark hotdog scents, the taste of mouthwatering garlic fries, the feel of fellow fans squeezing by me in the crowded tunnels, and the sound of thousands of screaming fans make every one of my sense become acutely alive. Although numerous historical sites in Rome have similar effects on their visitors, the Pantheon impacts the viewer the most in such a way.
Upon entering the Pantheon, all eyes shoot upwards. The oculus, the single source of light and life for the entire building, is the initial focal point of the perfect structure. The impeccable circular shape capping of the sphere-containing interior make it utterly awe inspiring. The eyes of every single visitor are drawn far upwards as their jaws drop due mostly to the incredible sight but also due to the uncomfortable bodily position. The discomfort fades into the background however as the ceiling pattern sweeps your eyes up in an arcing manner to the bright hole hovering over the exact center of the domed floor far below. Completely unaware of their surroundings, people spread throughout the building longing to be swept off their feet by a gust of wind, up and out through the portal to freedom. The focus on the oculus draws you in and up into the building.
Similarly, the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio brings a viewer in and up. The circular form of the brightly colored buildings of the piazza trap you in the interior and push your focus towards the great, grey façade of the church. Unlike the Pantheon, where the sharply contrasting brightness of the oculus catches your eyes, the dark and dreary church front mysteriously grips your eyes because of its blatant dissimilarity to the vibrant reds and oranges of the surrounding space. Looming over the small square, the church sucks the viewers in, initially with their eyes hoping that their entire bodies will follow. Therefore, the piazza has the same effect on the viewer as the Pantheon as people are not necessarily gathered to one point, but all eyes focus on a single aspect of the space which completely consumes you and pulls you in.
Ironically, poor weather brings an otherwise scattered Rome together. Rain drops hit the ground and instantaneously, the streets clear into small clusters of random people laughing in their battle against the elements. In the same way as the weather brings people together outside, those inside the Pantheon, usually spread haphazardly throughout the room, become united by it. The visitors form a tight circle mere inches from the huge puddle forming in the middle of the floor gaping at the drops pounding the marble surface. Water brings life, just as it has for thousands of years, and those inside are gripped by the life it gives and draw close. Because the life has transitioned from the oculus to the floor, all of the attention shifts to where the life comes from.
In its initial effect, the Piazza Navona is very similar. An absolutely huge piazza, the square would be utter chaos were it not for the three fountains strategically placed along the center line of the stadium-shaped area. Although initially the eyes of visitors may shoot from one attractive market stand to another, the fountains, particularly the great Four Rivers Fountain remain the rock of the piazza. Its huge form, although sometimes lost in the bustle of the market below, captures your eyes and brings you close. When you are brought near however, the water, not the impressive carvings, keeps you nearby. Water again brings life, roaring out from beneath the four river gods, only to be sucked back in again into the mouth of the giant fish half-submerged in the pool. The water pours out and makes the inanimate structure dynamic and lively, attracting throngs of visitors whose hearts leap at the sound of the rushing water and the touch of the cool mist to their cheeks. The sources of life attract the eyes of those who enter either the Pantheon or Piazza Navona.
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