View Article: The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni
University of Washington Honors Program in Rome


The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni
The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni 1 of 1

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As I walked towards the side chapel that contains the Beata Ludovica Albertoni the first and only distinction I could make was the figure’s face. All else was an indiscernible, shapeless mound of white. The closer I got the more things snapped into focus. I soon noticed the peculiar crane of her neck. From there my eyes flowed downwards towards her abdomen. Here I paused for a moment to contemplate the unusual placement of the figure’s hands. Next I followed the folds of her dress along her knees and finally arrived at her feet. The lighting impressed me greatly, mostly for the way in which it completed the illusion of the piece. Albertoni reclines on a sofa in an alcove shaped much like a real room. The natural sunlight streaming in from the single, proportional and realistic window adds to this effect. Although it was late in the day when we visited and the light outside had diminished from its earlier brightness there was still a noticeable correlation between the placement of the light on the sculpture and the movement of my eye. The face, right hand and left knee were all in direct light; the upper half of the body in general more illuminated. In this way I viewed the sculpture from areas of light to areas of shadow.

In viewing both the Beata Ludovica Albertoni and Santa Theresa I think the visitor gains a glimpse at the two faces of ecstasy, both the extreme pain and the overwhelming pleasure. Albertoni’s face is contorted; her limbs reel in response to the extreme sensation she is experiencing. Her hands grasp at her stomach and chest, almost as though she is searching for a tangible source to her discomfort. Santa Theresa is a more passive figure. Her face seems relaxed and her limbs lie limp at her sides. The two environments that Bernini creates also differ. Albertoni lies in a realistic bedroom and the visual source of her current state is natural sunlight. Santa Theresa lies cradled in a cloud. Here a cupid-like angel holding an arrow is the source of her pleasure. The way lighting is used in the pieces also differs. The light that illuminates S. Theresa is artificial and less deliberate than that which lights Albertoni; since, unlike Albertoni, S. Theresa does not directly interact with the light.

Both pieces remind me of a reading I did for a medieval literature class last year on the ecstasy of St. Margaret. The sculptures depict the relationship between each female saint and God as a sexual one. The story of St. Margaret is the same way. The literature, written during the middle ages, is filled with phallic symbolism and semi-erotic interactions. God is depicted as a lover, the saints as his wives. These two sculptures promote the same idea of a relationship with God turning into a union with the divine; one reached through physical pain, the tortures of the saints, but which carries the promise of a great reward.