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Two Cloisters, Silence and Belief |
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written
by justinvf / 10.24.2005 |
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| Silence and Belief |
1 of 1 |
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Assignment |
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Santi Quattro Coronati
The doors open. In normal paced walks the group spirals in towards the center of the courtyard from the four entrances. The sounds like a troop walking along a gravel road. Persistent crunchings of rock. Gradually, intervals of silence punctuate the steps. The whole world around us is silent, with only our steps breaking the air. The intervals between the crunches lengthen. We become aware of the serenity around us, and how each movement is breaking that peace. The steps are now few and deliberately slow. Those who continue walking feel the noises affect. The draw is no longer towards the center and one by one each student finds a niche between the short columns or leaning against the squat wall. No one remains in the center and the only sounds are a few soft and obscure noises of Rome that float over the roof. Within this cloister the serenity takes us in, persuades us by example to fall into its peace, and compels our contemplation amongst the columns.
Santa Croce
A famous church rife with famous tombs. Machiavelli, Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo… each laying for their perpetual pictures. Out the side door stretches a lengthy arcade. Another entrance for the throngs to pour in: renaissance fan boys with cameras at the ready. Cross this arcade though and the flow stops. The trail of the masses leads away, into the church, and through giant wooden doors I find myself in the cloister. The columns are tall and sparse, drawing the focus upwards. A misting rain falls. Rose bushes in each quadrant slightly wobble in the wind, dropping an occasional petal. At once I feel the natural power of this refuge, the perfection of the courtyard at first too pure to penetrate. I stand, behind the columns, entranced by this steady misting which gives such a diving aura to the place. Nothing overt bars me from entering the courtyard, but I question whether it is right. Slowly though, I feel that I belong on the grass. I step out. The water is refreshing, the light so much brighter. With deliberate, solid, footsteps I walk along the grass, visiting each bush on my path towards the central well. This is where the space draws me, towards the center where I at once stop. Here is where I am meant to see the courtyard. Surrounded by a green buffer between me and the columns, there is at once no desire to be anywhere but right where I stand, absorbed in this show of water and light.
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