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Dimensions of Ecstasy |
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written
by pev42 / 10.24.2005 |
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| The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni |
1 of 1 |
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Assignment |
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The Church of San Francesco a Ripa is much like other churches that I have seen so far in Rome. Dark metal skeletons with gilt wings, wax figures of saints in repose, and painted wooden statues plastered with folded paper notes all pull at my attention, but it is more because of their unfamiliarity than the power of their message. The mess of distracting the discontinuous images that accost most of the church provide a stark contrast to Bernini’s "The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni" in a niche on the left. This marble statue draws me in because it is so simple on its own, yet powerfully expressive.
The first part of the sculpture that I am drawn to is Beata’s face, the strongest center of expression. Her eyes, closed as they roll back into her head, look inside herself, while her slightly opened mouth shows her extreme concentration. This statue is an expression of an intensely personal experience, one that it seems I shouldn’t be disrupting with my presence. However, I am curious to learn more, so the scope of my attention soon expands to the triangle created by her face, her hand, and the pillow that she is resting on, all illuminated by the light from a small window above her head. The placement of her hand under her breast makes me wonder if her concentration on herself is from physical pleasure. Then I notice her left knee is raised slightly in her reclining position, as if she is bracing herself. The folds of her gown and headdress reveal that she has been writhing, her transitory position indicating that she is still in the throws of ecstasy. Finally, I notice her left hand at her side, as if she is holding herself in pain. When I step back and look at the entire statue, the different messages of introspection, pleasure, and pain all fit together. The ecstasy spreads from her soul to her body as she connects to God, but is too strong for her earthly form. Her physical self struggles with elation so strong that it hurts, but her mind is intent on the love of her Savior.
"The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa" doesn’t have the same subtle character as Beata. Great stabbing rays of golden sunshine falling behind Theresa’s head portray heaven’s light. A grinning angel stands by her side, poised with an arrow, in an attempt to represent God’s love piercing the heart of the saint. Teresa prepares to receive it with seemingly passive closed eyes and a limp body that threatens to fall off of the cloud that she slouches on. The intentions of the piece are so obvious that Theresa becomes a flat character, only playing the part of acceptance. Her ecstasy seems washed out, the dynamic of simultaneous pain and pleasure lost.
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