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Intentionality, Santa Maria Sopra Minerva and Dead Animals |
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written
by sariah / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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Like much of Rome’s architecture, both Santa Maria in Cosmedin’s lion and Santa Sabina use their structures to engage the viewer. The lion possesses few feline features, rather, it looks more like a weary river god trying to catch his breath. Because this lion is legendary for biting the hands of liars, one might believe that the statue would look fierce and righteous, symbolizing the unmerciful delivery of punishment. Instead, by pressing fingers against the lion’s smooth lips, a much different message is imparted: Even those who tell lies don’t lose their hands. Whether this is a message of mercy and forgiveness or just plain fickleness on the part of the lion is hard to tell, but the interaction is certainly engaging.
Similarly, Santa Sabina draws the viewer to interact. The interior itself is serenely lighted, with faceted rays passing through iron-wrought window guards high in the apse. At the front of the church, above the altar, is a mural framed by portraits of prominent figures. There are twelve circular frames, but only ten are filled in, forcing the viewer to ponder on who will be placed in the remaining slots; and thereby, forcing the viewer into a deductive or judgmental process.
Like Santa Sabina, Parco Savello’s entryway is controlled for the greatest sense of unexpected pleasure. In Santa Sabina, one enters through a disconcerting, dark, brick hallway, unaware of the tanned, softly lighted space within. For Parco Savello, the ascent to the back entry is much more taxing, and requires a steep ascent up a cobblestone hill, followed by a short walk around the park. Yet, it is this entryway that allows for the orchestrated awe upon ascending the final steps up to the park’s viewpoint. Each step, although rising only slightly, allows the panoramic view of the city to expand rapidly.
Unlike Santa Sabina and Parco Savello, the entryways to Teatro Marcello and Circus Maximus are not controlled, but coincide well with their functions. It is possible to view the Teatro Marcello from almost its entire circumference, limited only in part by the construction of nearby housing. Created for entertainment, the theater is purposefully ovoid, encouraging audiences to approach from multiple angles and affording them views from all sides of the theater. The Circus Maximus, which was also designed for entertaining huge audiences who attended the chariot races, resembles the design of the Teatro Marcello with its wide variety of approaches and open visibility from numerous sides.
The design of the sites mentioned previously intentionally blend architecture with the varied elements of Roman life; either they are a reflection of ancient Roman desires for entertainment, or the later trend towards Catholic values. Both the Jewish Ghetto and Protestant Cemetery express their intention of noncompliance with the usual Roman standards through form. As the major landmark of the Jewish Ghetto, the Synagogue is set apart through its unique architecture. In contrast to other Catholic religious sites within Rome, including the rounded domes of St. Peter’s Basilica and Santa Maria di Loreto near Trajan's column, the Synagogue has a square dome. Because of its unique roofline, the Synagogue is unlike other buildings in Rome and is immediately recognizable from distant hills. As its physical shape distinguishes it from the surrounding Catholic sites, so it serves to symbolize the differences between the Jewish and Catholic religions.
Rome’s Protestant Cemetery also sets itself apart from regularity of form, expressing the free spirit of its dead. Shooting up freely among the headstones, unconfined leafy vines cascade through clumps of bright blue, red and purple flowers. Likewise, most of the headstones themselves are individualized; one depicting a sorrowfully collapsed angel being extremely striking. In death, those buried in the Protestant Cemetery seem to rejoice in their non-conformity, preferring a wild mix of foliage surrounding unique gravestones to orderly plots arranged in a formal setting.
In contrast to the Protestant Cemetery, the British Military Cemetery is defined by its orderly arrays. Each headstone is alike in placement, shape and format- the only differences being the names and epitaphs of the dead. The even alignment of the graves resembles the rows of marching soldiers in a parade, and underscores the sense of discipline and orderliness that marks military life. As they fought together in life for a united cause, they lay together in death.
Although the sites in the long walk were diverse, each uses its form to convey an intentional message consistent with its function.
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Part 2: |
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Note: Because we did not visit the inside of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, I have modified the prompt to “In the summertime, Rome and Italy seems to defined only by light. In Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, how is darkness used for effect and for what purpose?”
If the night sky looked like the ceiling of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, it is doubtful that children would fear darkness. Stepping through the heavy doors into the church, one enters a flattering caricature of night that amplifies only its best features. Large golden stars speckle the ceiling, highlighted by soft artificial lighting; and, wisps of brightness shine through the round, stained-glass windows high in the main apse. Symmetrically placed men sit cross-legged high above, backs to the ceiling, with luminous haloes matching the warm, rich shimmer of the stars. The overall darkness of the church, lighted only at the front door and through the darkly-painted stained glass, serves to enhance the brilliance of the royal blue ceiling. Upon exiting the church, it is this rich blue color that remains most memorable. Unlike the cold blue of a primary color wheel, the blue of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva emanates warmth and invitation.
This usage of darkness within Santa Maria Sopra Minerva produces a sense of awe, and perhaps, even rapture. Unlike the harsh reality of daylight, the darkness of night is used to soften clear, careful examination or cold logic. In Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, the pseudo-night also serves to further enhance the size of the church by allowing its space to appear larger than it really is. As a result of its appeal to the sense of darkness, the power of this church to suspend parishioners in a sense of awe is great.
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Part 3: |
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The central market at the Piazza Testaccio is a lesson in small animal anatomy. Beneath a smooth, protective glass case lie three major classes of edible species: chicken, pig and rabbit. Upon entering the market, I first think to look for shoes; however, once looking at a mound of cow intestines, it’s difficult to shift mental gears and look away. Instead, my eyes are immediately drawn through the contents of the case. The chickens lay in rows off to the side, long bodied and limp. Their feet are yellow, like dishwashing gloves, with probably the same texture. Their heads face in the same direction, beaks left and crowns right. Pig snouts are nearby. Unmistakable in shape, with a little bit of imagination, the nostrils could be construed as a pair of eyes, gazing up at customers while awaiting their stewed or pickled fate. Last of all, in the middle of the display, lay skinned rabbits. Their musculature is red and moist, microscopic fascicles poised for contraction. Like the chickens, each rabbit has been carefully placed facing the same direction, and is entirely sanguine, except for the white membranes of the eyes and white fibers of the feet.
I am not exactly sure why these food-bound carcasses draw my attention. Since the meat stand is strangely empty of personnel, it is most definitely not due to the vendor. In fact, my human interactions within the Piazza Testaccio are nonexistent. Rather, seeing these animal carcasses “dressed for consumption” transfixes me with guilt at my own eating habits. Maybe 3,000 years ago there was a need for hunting and consuming animals, but in modern times, it’s common knowledge that a vegetarian diet is sustainable and even more nutritious than an omnivorous one. Yet, for purely gastronomic pleasure, I persist in eating animals that probably have consciousness and suffer pain. This choice in diet is so obviously wrong. As I leave the Piazza Testaccio, I know that my meat-eating will be a guilty decision.
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