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The Cracked Door: a Sliver of the Pantheon |
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written
by pev42 / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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At midday, tourists claim the Pantheon’s entire attention. People on the porch clasp hands with their friends to see how many arm-lengths it takes to encircle the massive columns. Tourists rush in and out, congregate on the sides of the porch, pass or engage in bargaining with the vendors. Inside, the picture snapping and the hum of voices changes in tone from excitement to awe as people are drawn into the expansive, complete feeling of the space. The pull of the dome seems to organize the movement of the people, guiding them to wander in circles. My first visit to the Pantheon was very fittingly at this time of day. It was in my first week in Rome, so I was excited to be in the Pantheon simply because it was an ancient building that I had heard about since childhood. I easily caught the urge to take out my camera from the crowds of tourists that surrounded me and busily shot blurry pictures of statues and columns. Only gradually did I look up and realize that the giant domed ceiling with the heavenly oculus was what made the rest of the space seem so splendid and powerful.
The next time I visited the Pantheon it was near dusk and raining. I ran all the way there from the Rome Center with some friends just to see the stormy weather interact with the great building. Fresh air, fresh water, slippery wet sandals slapping on shiny cobblestones, the smell of wet stone, of my wet hair, and the laughter of friends who know they are on an adventure – these were the experiences that ushered me into the Pantheon. There we met a crowd of people, but I felt so familiar with the rain, so exhilarated from the run, that I hardly noticed them as the column of water falling from the roof called me to the center of the room. The rain coming through the oculus looked like snow, and it disappeared when I looked through the lens of my camera. Watching the tiny droplets fall so far, growing in size as they neared me and finally spattered and snapped on the floor, gave me an odd floating sensation at the pit of my stomach, like I was riding an accelerating elevator. Lightning struck, creating a white-hot crack in the smooth blue window to the sky. The corresponding thunder resonated in the hollow building, increasing the sense of adventure that united all of the visitors.
My final visit was in the morning, when my mind was still in the transition period from dreams to awareness of the present. I got there before it opened and found that one door was propped open by a chair. Peaking in timidly, I saw only slivers of the deserted Pantheon, as if this small window was made to tantalize waiters outside with what was to come. Expecting uniformed guards to come and open the doors with ceremony, I was surprised when three men in jeans and jackets came out, joking and slapping each other on the back, as if they were old friends that lived nearby and opened the Pantheon together every morning. Inside, I noticed how much larger the space seemed when it was practically empty. The early morning sun through the oculus made an oval shape of light on the coffered ceiling just to the side of the lip of the great hole. The limited light made it feel like morning just before sunrise. I wandered around the room, taking it all in, and began to leave twice for class, but was pulled back in by the great lofty ceiling and the urge to experience this space as much as possible so that I could hold it forever in my mind.
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Part 2: |
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When I first entered the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio I walked up the steps of the church and then turned to take in the rest of the space. My attention was drawn immediately to the Carabinieri ministry by the curve of the buildings and the traffic that turned to go behind them. When no show came on to perform, I went backstage to see what was there and found herds of motorcycles waiting for their cue to go on. The outside circular space of this piazza is different from the interior spherical space of the Pantheon because it has a clear linear arrangement inside of the curved space. There is definitely a stage and an audience in the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio that is missing in the Pantheon, where the altar and the chairs before it seem to disrupt the natural flow of the visitors.
In the Piazza Navona, my first survey of the space showed me immediately that the center fountain of the three was superior in size and design. The dominating obelisk that it supported and its central location automatically made the middle fountain the assumed crown of the piazza. However, it was more than that that drew me to it. The size of its figures in their dynamic positions and the crowd of vendors that surrounded the area also set it apart. In the heat of the sun, I wanted to find a shady place to sit, but soon realized that there were no benches. Instead I copied the rest of the tourists and sat on the curb of the road. This place was clearly meant to be passed through, not enjoyed in peaceful comfort. I could sit in the Pantheon for hours, watching the people and gazing at the oculus, but in the Piazza Navona I would rather circle the Four Rivers Fountain a couple times and then continue on for gelato.
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