|
|
 |
|
Ecstasy or Anguish |
|
written
by peeter / 10.24.2005 |
|
|
|
|
|
| The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni |
1 of 1 |
|
| |
Assignment |
| |
Ascending the brief marble steps leading to the small niche in San Francesco a Ripa church, my eyes immediately fall upon the extraordinarily lit face of the sculpture. The image seared into my mind by this face is anguish. The light covers her forehead before brushing across her eyelids, cheeks and finally, chin. Her mouth is partly opened; she is far from conscious of her uninhibited facial expression. What was mere anguish becomes deep, grueling anguish—the kind that causes one to heave—as my eyes discover her hands and their position, particularly the left one awkwardly jammed into her abdomen. My gaze is then drawn immediately to her left knee, raised from its bent position, surging with energy. She is way outside her body. Her muscles are liberated by the complete departure of her soul.
Anguish? This sculpture depicts ecstasy. I am reminded of the strange closeness of anguish and ecstasy. Such a fine line separates them that a single look, position, or posture my capture both emotions. In his book Reaching Out, Henri Nouwen extends this paradox, writing, “The borders between kissing and biting, caressing and slapping, hearing and overhearing, looking with tenderness and looking with suspicion are very fragile indeed” (119). Bernini knew well this fragile line of division.
Later I visit Bernini’s *other* depiction of ecstasy, that of Saint Theresa. The church in which it is housed is far more grandiose; it seems as though the fire department filled their hoses with liquid gold and sprayed down the entire sanctuary. After finding the niche that holds the sculpture, I immediately look for the face. The woman’s mouth is open, and her eyes are passively closed. I see no anguish here, but rather a state of unconsciousness: Comatose transcendence. She is out of her own body. This face does not compare to the other in beauty. Despite the fact that the less desirable features are encountered first from where I stand—the underside of the jaw and the flaring nostrils—my classification of this face as less beautiful does not come out of my biased viewing location. Degrees of beauty are perceived through the analysis of any particular feature, not just the comparison of two mouths, two chins, two eyes, and so on.
In failing to capture the essence of gut-wrenching anguish, this sculpture also fails to represent ecstasy as faithfully as the Beata Ludovica Albertoni. The posture of this figure simply does not convince. Some unknown force props up the woman’s back, and her left leg dangles in space effortlessly. The sense that each and every one of her muscles is strained to the point of bursting is not felt. The chubby angel also takes away from the effectiveness of the work as it looks down on the woman in such a trivial manner, displaying a long, pleasureful smile as if it has just established dominance over its little companion in the nursery. Ecstasy is a serious emotion, and its witnesses attest to this through their humble, reverent reactions to its presence. There is no reverence in that angel, or in me as I look upon this sculpture.
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
|
|
