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The Pantheon |
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written
by sariah / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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The Pantheon seems to exist in a detached reality, with a slow, steady rhythm to match the ebb and flow of tourists passing throughout its interior. Being the first to enter in the morning is like catching the Dome on its first inhalation, as it prepares itself for the day. The hard, dawn rain has circulated fresh air through the enormous duct of an oculus into the darkened interior. The round, emptiness of the floor in the morning propels one through the space, circling and settling into its vastness. On this cloudy day, the column of sunlight is ill-defined. The light is diffused and free of boundaries from the oculus outward.
In the afternoon, the oculus is often still white with clouds. Looking up, outlines of seagulls pass in half-tangents through the perfect circle. As crowds push and clump below, the colossal dome space above is free of such machinations. Instead, it has a steady rhythm of breathing, as if to expel the carbon dioxide of the multitudes of tourists into the atmosphere outside. A group in the corner begins to sing, and the dome seems to expand in harmony as their voices swell. A little girl, head bent, hair shielding her face and the teddy bear she embraces, joins in, rocking back and forth to the music.
At night, the dome exhales, collapsing under the weight of the dusky, blue sky. Artificial lights switch on to highlight the trapezoidal vaulting that patterns the dome like an art-deco pineapple. The cold, condensed night air passes through the nose and throat into the lungs. Ten minutes to closing, the dome’s attendants begin to direct all remaining visitors towards the towering, green exit doors. A final glance reveals the smooth floor, and the dome retiring to its perfect solitude and peace.
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Part 2: |
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The interior of the Pantheon is defined by its oculus, which is like a porthole to the natural world and its changing seasonal elements. Movements of nature within the building are directed by the oculus through the Pantheon’s inner space, and offer the viewer a unique, protected way of experiencing the environment outside. For example, as rain falls in heavy droplets, a column of falling rain water is formed that is well-defined and “solid”, erupting into tiny waves that ripple across the marble floor. At other times, when there is just a light rain and lots of sunlight, the column of mist seems almost ethereal. The interplay of water and sunlight within the Pantheon gives constant movement and parallels changing nature. Rain falling in wide sheets or planes and sun blanketing open spaces in the natural environment also evoke changes that are defined by physical structures such as the momentary parting of clouds or breaks in the trees of a forest canopy.
Walking into the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio and standing on the small flight of steps leading to the church feels like climbing up onto a stage. The entire piazza is shaped like a protractor, with the church forming the straight edge and central focus, and the audience radiating outward in curved facades of multi-story, ocher housing. Because the piazza is not very wide, the setting is intimate, and the buildings seem to lean inward to catch every nuance of the stage performance taking place within the church.
Upon entering Piazza Navona, the obelisk of the Four River’s Fountain is undoubtedly the central focus and captures all attention. Despite the frequent appearances of obelisks mixed with Roman architecture, their straight, clean lines seem at odds with the ornate curling found in other forms of Roman art. The obelisk of the Four River Fountain is no different, and gives a feeling of incongruence that sharply contrasts with the curving fluidity of the rounded outlines, sprouting leaflets of the Corinthian columns and bulging musculature of the river gods found in the rest of the Piazza. This obelisk seems to be a misplaced treasure, perhaps erected by someone who was unable to locate a more suitable setting. Obelisks need expansive spaces and simple edges. The setting of the Piazza Navona draws focus away from the obelisk’s simple beauty, and instead, seems to underscore a lost opportunity to create architectural harmony.
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