If yesterday’s post – full of gruesome scenes of martyrdom from Santo Stefano Rotondo – turned your stomach, we found the antidote today in the pleasures of Villa Farnesina.
The facade of Villa Farnesina
Commissioned in 1508 by the wealthy Sienese banker Agostino Chigi and designed by Baldassarre Peruzzi, this suburban villa is at the foot of the hill from the American Academy in Trastevere. We joined our friend Jeff Cody there for a guided tour and concert of Renaissance music on a beautiful Sunday spring day in Rome.
Detail of the Frescoes in the Loggia of Cupid and Psyche
The Wikipedia entry gives a good description of the difference between this suburban villa and an urban palazzo (or palace).
Renaissance palaces typically faced onto a street and were decorated versions of defensive castles: rectangular blocks with rusticated ground floors and enclosing a courtyard. This villa, intended to be an airy summer pavilion, presented a side towards the street and was given a U shaped plan with a five bay loggia between the arms. In the original arrangement, the main entrance was through the north facing loggia which was open. Today, visitors enter on the south side and the loggia is glazed.
The interiors are a delightful display of classical myths and astrological scenes (showing the position of the stars at the time of Chigi’s birth). This was clearly a party house, and artists, poets, cardinals, princes, and the pope himself were entertained here “in magnificent style.”
So – away with yesterday’s beheadings and attacks by wild dogs – and bring on the nymphs and cherubs for fun and frolic!
Triumph of Galatea by Raphael in the main hall
Detail from the Loggia of Cupid and Psyche
Ceiling of the Loggia of Cupid and Psyche
This scene from the Salone delle Prospettive shows the Torre delle Milizie as it looked in the 1500s
Stairway ceiling at Villa Farnesina
We had a delightful day, and recommend the villa for those who need an occasional break from the saints.
On Andrew’s last full day with us in Rome, he joined Candice and me in visiting three very different churches with widely varying histories, architecture, and art work. It was a great introduction and send-off for Andrew, as we hoped to whet his appetite for future visits to the city.
It turns out that we’ve had two tours, each consisting of visits to three different churches, this week. So I’ve titled this post “Three churches (part one)” and I’ll get to the other three in a later post.
The first we saw with Andrew is one of the city’s best-known historic sites and regularly shows up on “must see” lists. The second was recommended by friends at the academy as a “lovely and troubling space” rolled into one. And the third was found entirely by accident (which is the way we often find hidden gems).
The 12th-century Basilica of San Clemente al Laterano is a minor basilica that consists of three separate buildings located one on top of the other and dating back to ancient Rome. The extensive archaeological excavations of both the 4th-century basilica and the buildings of the first century provide visitors with an intriguing history lesson in how the city of Rome developed. We were fascinated and lingered for a long time in the current church as well as the excavated areas. (The basilica’s policy against photographs limits what I can include, but check out the website for more images. I did take the few photos you see here after watching a priest stand next to the “no photographs” sign and click away repeatedly with his camera!)
Exterior of the Basilica di San Clemente
Basilica di San Clemente
12th-century mosaics in the apse of the Basilica di San Clemente
The current basilica – among the most richly ornamented in Rome – contains what has been called a “high point of 12th-century Roman mosaics” as well as a schola cantorum that incorporates marble from the 4th-century basilica when it was abandoned. The basilica has been cared for by Irish Dominicans since 1667, and it was an Irish priest — Fr. Joseph Mullooly, O.P. — who uncovered the 4th-century basilica and eventually the first-century building in 1857.
Colleagues had encouraged us to descend to the bottom (against the flow of the tour), and take in the first century structure first, and then rise up to the 4th-century building. We’re glad we did.
The earliest building sits over a spring and has a section that was modified in the second century to facilitate its use as a Mithraeum by members of the cult of Mithras. There is a second building, separated by a narrow alley, and a long series of small, connected rooms making up this fascinating level. As one climbs a narrow set of stairs the remains of a 4th-century basilica unfold, including tile floors, sculpture fragments, and frescos from subsequent centuries. This large space was abandoned at the beginning of the 12th century, filled in with rubble to the top of the pillars, and thus provided the new foundation for the current church. This is a marvelous way to spend a couple of hours in Rome, gathering a deeper appreciation for the many layers of history found throughout (and underneath) the city.
Santo Stefano Rotondo
We then walked the few blocks to see Santo Stefano Rotondo, the unofficial Hungarian church in Rome. With its circular plan (the first in Rome, although the exterior is in the form of a crucifix), this church dates from the 5th century. It is a simple yet majestic space, with a beautiful chapel on one side near the entrance. (There were originally four such chapels, but three were removed in a later restoration.) While we were there, a group of German tourists under the direction of a priest began to sing, and the acoustics — especially in the center section — were wonderful in supporting the singers and their sound.
Chapel in Santo Stefano Rotondo
Then there’s the art work.
If you ever thought it was easy to be a saint, you haven’t been to Santo Stefano Rotondo. Oh my! The walls of the church are decorated with 34 frescoes of martyrdom, commissioned by Gregory XIII in the 16th century. Each painting has an inscription explaining the scene and giving the name of the emperor who ordered the execution, as well as a quotation from the Bible.
In a word, they are gruesome.
Fresco – one of 34 – depicting a scene of martyrdom
Spiraling around the circular walls, the paintings depict 34 different martyrs — each being killed in gruesome ways. (Molten lead poured down the throat? Check. Breasts cut off? Check. Boiled alive? Check!) Commissioned by Pope Gregory XIII near the end of the 16th century, the paintings are naturalistic in their graphic displays, making anyone who looks closely enough wince. The peaceful expressions on most of the martyrs’ faces go somewhat toward mitigating the”ouch ouch OUCH” effect… although in all honesty, I find that eerie calm a bit more disturbing than convincing.
And if you don’t believe her, the blogger goes on to quote Charles Dickens:
…such a panorama of horror and butchery no man could imagine in his sleep, though he were to eat a whole pig raw, for supper. Grey-bearded men being boiled, fried, grilled, crimped, singed, eaten by wild beasts, worried by dogs, buried alive, torn asunder by horses, chopped up small with hatchets: women having their breasts torn with iron pinchers, their tongues cut out, their ears screwed off, their jaws broken, their bodies stretched upon the rack, or skinned upon the stake, or crackled up and melted in the fire: these are among the mildest subjects.
So take it only if you have a strong stomach!
Finally, we were looking for a more pleasant (read “green”) short cut on our way home when we walked into what looked like a park and wandered down a small road. Halfway down the hill we stumbled upon the Basilica Santi Giovanni e Paolo – one of the ancient basilicas of Rome and located on the Celian Hill, one of the city’s famous seven hills.
Basilica Santi Giovanni e Paolo
The beautiful tile floor, crystal chandeliers, frescoes, and woodwork made us gasp. The church was built in 398 and is named for two martyred Roman soldiers – John and Paul. While it was open, the church did not have any facilities for a tour when we arrived, and it was being set up for an evening concert. We could see into a couple of the chapels – which were magnificent – and we later learned that the site contains the best conserved Roman era residential building complexes still standing today. However, it was getting late, and we were tired from all the walking.
The church was lit only by natural light when we arrived, so to see the full splendor, view the images of the church found on the web (especially for weddings) to see it in all its glory. I suspect you’ll be as amazed as we were on our visit.
Good things come in threes, and that was definitely true with these three Roman churches. Wonderful stories, fascinating (and gruesome) art work, and layered history you can see and understand. It made for a very nice afternoon in the city.
One of the delights of spending time in the American Academy is having the chance to get to know artists – young, older, new to their craft, and famous – and to see their work through open studios, concerts, readings, and performances.
Detail of a work in progress from an open studio at the American Academy
Rome, simply, continues to inspire. And isn’t that what preservationists mean when we say that we need old places because they provide continuity, serve as part of our memory, enrich our individual and civic identity, and inspire creativity?
Any time we end up at a table with Michael and Dorothy, we know we’ll learn something, laugh a great deal, and come away enriched.
Chris Duncan at his open studio in Rome
Open studios are great opportunities to see works in progress and to hear first-hand from the artists about their works. Our first open studio here in Rome was for the theatrical set designer Heidi Ettinger, who showed the remembrance masks she had created while at the Academy. Heidi and her husband Jonathan are a wonderful couple who joined us at the Easter Vigil at St. Paul’s Within the Walls. Since then we have enjoyed meals and open studios with new friends Chris and Alice Smith Duncan, Joan Richmond and her husband – architect and preservationist Ken Richmond – and others.
Kara Walker, the incredibly talented artist “best known for exploring the raw intersection of race, gender, and sexuality through her iconic, silhouetted figures,” shared her work from seven weeks at the Academy in an open studio held last week. We were deeply moved by this work and by a catalog from a 2015 London show Go to Hell or Atlanta, Whichever Comes First which she and her partner shared with us. The four of us had a brief conversation around the inspiration that can come to artists from the power of place, with both the good memories and difficult stories they may embody.
The dinner table, set for “I Love You as Food Loves Salt”
Contemporary art can also be performance art, and we had one such experience with food while at the Academy. Chef Chris Behr of the AAR’s Rome Sustainable Food Project joined together with two fellows from the French Academy in Rome to create an evening dinner entitled “I love you as food loves salt.” Based upon a Romanian folk tale involving a king, the youngest daughter he drove away when she told him that she loved him as much as salt, and the way she later won his apology after he learned that “the salt in food is more important than anything else.” It was a mysterious and magical evening of food (flavored with salt!), wine, and good company.
At the Academy we have heard new works by contemporary composers. We have seen traditional watercolors and abstract paper work. We have shared dinners, stories, discussions, and laughter with talented poets such as Bruce Smith, Jules Gibbs, and Neal Hall. And outside the walls, we were delighted to be able to see the work of a newly arrived resident fellow – South African William Kentridge – in his work in progress, Triumphs and Laments: A Project for the City of Rome…
…a large-scale, 550 meter-long frieze, erased from the biological patina on the travertine embankment walls that line Rome’s urban waterfront. More than eighty figures, up to 10 meters high, will form a silhouetted procession on Piazza Tevere, between Ponte Sisto and Ponte Mazzini. Triumphs and Laments will show a non-chronological history of Rome, looking at the laments which inevitably accompany any triumph.
Over dinner, William told us of the difficulties of gaining approval for the work, because some official did not approve of “contemporary art in a historic city.” As regular readers know, I feel this is a short-sided approach. To paraphrase Tony Hiss from a different but related context, cities should embrace old and new to gain a sense of the continuity that shakes us “out of the daydream that the present moment is disconnected from all the lives that preceded us and all the life around us.”
The premier is set for April 21st – after we leave – but Candice, Andrew, and I have all walked along the banks of the Tiber to marvel at this new work. Here’s a very small sampling.
A section of Kentridge’s work “Triumphs and Laments”
From Triumphs and Laments
From William Kentridge’s Triumphs and Laments
Public Art
The black “paint” in the figures is actually the years of grime on the river walls, which was left as the area around the stencils were power-washed away. William estimated that the entire piece will last 5-7 years, at which time the grime will have returned. One of the clear aims of this project is to help reactivate the Tiber River as a public space in the city of Rome. We loved our time along the river and found it a different type of urban space, yet very much of Rome in its essence.
Finally, one finds urban art throughout the city from a wide variety of residents. One small example was this piece that Andrew and I stumbled on Monday as we were out “getting lost” in the central core of the city. Andrew has a well-reasoned opinion about what the artist was trying to convey as a political statement, but I just thought it was clever. We may both be right.
Just Do It.
Writer and critic Robert Hughes has said that one of the vital things “that make a great city great is not mere raw size, but the amount of care, detail, observation, and love precipitated in its contents…” He was talking, in large measure, about the historic city. But I believe that historic cities should strive to be the continuous city – where “new buildings, new institutions, and new technologies don’t rip apart the old and wreck it….(instead) they accommodate, they act with respect, and they add vibrant new chapters to history without eradicating it.”
Clearly historic Rome is loved and continues to inspire.
About three weeks ago I realized I was going to have too much material to post from Rome and too little time in my six-week schedule to do it justice. Right now I have one draft written that needs some editing, (fully understanding that many regular readers don’t believe I actually edit this stuff), an entire weekend in Venice that is calling for my attention, visits to amazing historic sites that I want to capture, and so much more that I can barely keep it in my head. Oh, and I’m trying to meet as many people as I can at the academy, attend lectures and tours, visit places throughout the country, and do some work on my project.
But at least I’m not stressed! That would be very un-sabbatical-like.
To help out, I’ll rely on my trusty “Observations From the Road…” formula and will throw out some very quick and unrelated posts to ensure that I don’t lose these thoughts. As always, these may not be worth seeing the light of day, so feel free to skip them (individually or all together).
Bridge of Sighs in Venice
San Clemente and the marble “schola cantorum” originally in the 4th-century church and then moved to the present basilica in the 12th century
Invite your kids to travel with you and you’ll see the bucket list items (Part 2) – As I wrote during Claire’s visit to Rome, having your children visit is a great way to make sure you see places that “everyone” wants to visit. While Andrew was in the country for only four full days before heading off this morning, we still checked off an amazing number of “must see” places, including Venice (Bridge of Sighs), the many layered history of the Basilica of San Clemente al Laterano (with hopefully more to come on both in a later post), Castel Sant’ Antelo, and much more. Of course, this is my urban studies son, so he and I also had a “let’s get lost” tour of the central city on Monday afternoon and found all types of very interesting places off the beaten track.
Older Italian Man Blowing Kisses to Babies (Part 1)
Part 2 – And now for the tickle
Reminding Us of Pop – Candice and I were sitting on a bench in a piazza in Venice when we looked up to see an older man blowing kisses to several children in strollers. The moms were talking and didn’t seem to mind the attention he was giving to their kids, so we watch for a few minutes as this continued. When he noticed that no one seemed to be bothered, he moved in for the tickle. It was such a sweet thing to watch, and Candice – of the Italian-American father – said, “Pop would act like that around babies.” I remember his playing that way with Andrew and Claire when they were little. I’ve come to understand my late father-in-law more from this first visit to Italy.
Andrew at Sant’ Eustachio Il Caffe
I have not missed American coffee – Some friends said that when they came to Italy they ended up craving a big cup of American coffee. I am not among them. Every day – two or three times a day – I’m bellying up to the bar to have a coffee and just relish the experience. When Andrew was in town I took him by the Sant’ Eustachio Il Caffe for the experience (since his sister had enjoyed it last month on her visit), but mainly I did it so that I had another excuse to try one of their wonderful coffees. The fact that the caffè has a history is a bonus!
Sant’Eustachio Il Caffè is an ancient Coffee Shop and Roaster that was born in the thirties. Located in the heart of Rome, in front of the Senato della Repubblica palace, it is just a few steps away from Piazza Navona and the Pantheon.
It was founded in 1938. The mosaic paving and the furnishings are still the original ones. The symbol of Sant’Eustachio Il Caffè is a stag which recalls the apparition and conversion to Christianity of the previously pagan Eustace. In the piazza of the same name stands the Sant’Eustachio Basilica, a church more than one thousand years old. On the top of the basilica, instead of the traditional cross, there is a white stag with a cross between its horns.
In 1999 the brothers Raimondo and Roberto Ricci began to run Sant’Eustachio Il Caffè. They decided to carry on the tradition, selecting the best coffee varieties and offering a range of products prepared with a legendary secret blend.
The Coffee Shop has 6 tables outdoors and inside the premises is still functioning a device to roast coffee over wood that goes back to 1948.
I expect that when we return home, I am going to miss the coffee (not to mention the wine!).
Stairs in Rome
Embracing the Stairs – In an earlier post, I mentioned the number of stairs in Rome. But as I’ve walked all around the city (over 27,000 steps on Monday), I’ve come to embrace the stairs (or at least the idea of climbing all those stairs). They pop up unexpectedly and – thanks to Andrew and his internal urban map – we found new steps to get from Trastevere to the Academy on Monday. I have noticed that the only overweight people I’ve encountered are from outside of Italy. Walking really is an act of citizenship, and I’ll end with that great quote from the wonderful book by Rebecca Solnit entitled Wanderlust: A History of Walking.
Walking is only the beginning of citizenship, but through it the citizen knows his or her city and fellow citizens and truly inhabits the city rather than a small privatized part thereof. Walking the streets is what links up reading the map with living one’s life, the personal microcosm with the public macrocosm; it makes sense of the maze all around….Walking maintains the publicness and viability of public space.”
We were directed to the Basilica of St. Cecilia in the Trastevere neighborhood of Rome by two of the more accomplished artists in residence at the American Academy. When we were talking about the power of place in art, they mentioned having visited this basilica and spoke of its impact. Candice and I decided to see it for ourselves.
Parts of the basilica date from 822, when an earlier church constructed over the ruins of the home of Cecilia, the young Roman woman who was martyred for her faith, was rebuilt. The outside – with a 12th century tower and 1725 facade – do not prepare you for the work inside.
Cecilia’s story has to be told to understand the power of this place. From the website Sacred Destinations:
“Cecilia is one of the most popular of Roman saints. She lived in the 3rd century and the first legend of her life was written in the 6th century. A noblewoman from a senatorial family, Cecilia took a personal vow of virginity and pledged her life to God. Unfortunately for her, Cecilia’s parents still married her off.
On her wedding night, Cecilia told her new husband (Valerian of Trastevere) about her pledge of virginity and persuaded him to be baptized. Valerian’s brother Tibertius and another man named Maximus were converted and baptized as well, and the three men began a Christian ministry of giving alms to the poor and arranging for proper burial of martyrs. Eventually they became martyrs themselves for refusing to worship Roman gods.
After burying her husband and his brother, Cecilia was persecuted as well. According to her legend, she was first locked in the caldarium of her own bathhouse for several days. This failed to suffocate her as planned; in fact, she sang throughout the ordeal (Cecilia is the patron saint of music). Next a soldier was sent to behead her, but after three hacks with an axe she was still alive. However, she died of her wounds three days later.“
View from the entrance into St. Cecilia in Trastevere
When you enter the basilica, one’s eye is drawn to the apse, with its mosaics, baldacchino, and a central sculpture. That sculpture transfixes the viewer’s gaze and draws everyone forward.
The moving sculpture of Cecilia after her martyrdom by Stefano Maderno
“The pavement in front of the statue encloses a marble slab with Maderno’s sworn statement that he has recorded the body as he saw it when the tomb was opened in 1599. The statue depicts the three axe strokes described in the 5th-century account of her martyrdom.“
The depiction underscores the incorruptibility of her body (an attribute of some saints). Our experience is that the viewer wants to linger over the sculpture, drawn by its combination of beauty and the horror of the decapitation.
Singing a song to St. Cecilia
Cecilia’s impact as the patron saint of music was also in evidence when we visited. A group of French boys and their priests/teachers came into the basilica as we did. After prayers, a handful of the boys and one teacher came together and began to sing a sacred hymn with the beauty that only boy trebles can produce. It was magical.
St. Cecilia’s Crypt
St. Agatha
We ended our tour in the crypt, viewing the beautiful mosaics and exploring the archaeological ruins of the house below the church. As we walked away we both agreed that we had just experienced the power of art and place.
O Nata Lux seems an appropriately beautiful piece of music to offer up in thanksgiving for the patron saint of music.
O nata lux de lumine,
Jesu redemptor saeculi,
dignare clemens supplicum
laudes preces que sumere.
Qui carne quondam contegi
dignatus es pro perditis
Nos membra confer effici,
tui beati corporis.
O light born of light,
Jesus, redeemer of the world,
mercifully deem worthy and accept
the praises and prayers of your supplicants.
Thou who once deigned to be clothed in flesh.
for the sake of the lost ones,
grant us to be made members
of your holy body.
More to come…
DJB
Image: Mosaics and the Ciborium in Trastevere’s Basilica of St. Cecilia
Last week, Cristina Puglisi, Deputy Director for Administration at the American Academy in Rome, took a group of architects, preservationists, and landscape architects at the academy on a tour of Villa Aurelia. Cristina — the key staff liaison for the restoration of this villa — had an audience that wanted to delve deeply into the thinking behind the work and decision-making around the building’s preservation, and we all enjoyed the give-and-take during the 90 minute tour.
Cristina Puglisi leads fellows and fellow travelers on a tour of the Villa Aurelia in Rome.
Cristina is an American-trained preservationist who has worked for years in her native Italy. Her insights into the different approaches to preservation in the two countries was especially enlightening to me as I think about new paths for preservation in the U.S. in the 21st century.
She mentioned many of these in her tour, which led me to a follow-up conversation over lunch earlier this week in which she fleshed out several of her comments.
For some background, here’s the history of the villa, from the AAR website:
“The Villa Aurelia, originally built for Cardinal Girolamo Farnese around 1650, is the setting for conferences, public receptions, concerts, and other programs. It also includes apartments for the Academy’s Residents and is surrounded by 3.8 acres of magnificent gardens.
In the early 19th century, the property was purchased by Count Alessandro Savorelli, who began extensive restoration and new construction projects. Much of the decorative work from that period is still visible today. In 1849, Giuseppe Garibaldi selected the Villa Aurelia as his headquarters for the defense of the Roman Republic against the French Army, and, after only one month, French artillery had caused extensive damage. Count Savorelli was able to restore the Villa before his death, and it was then sold to the Monte di Pieta from which it was bought in 1881 by Mrs. Clara Jessup Heyland, an American heiress from Philadelphia. In 1909, Mrs. Heyland died, bequeathing the Villa to the American Academy in Rome.“
Entrance to Villa Aurelia
The restoration of the villa began in 2000, and was completed in 2002. As we headed up the drive towards the mansion, Cristina mentioned that one of the differences between Italian and U.S. preservation law was that in Italy all buildings over 50-years of age owned by organizations, institutions, and businesses were — by law — considered landmarks unless the owners received approval to de-designate these buildings. This falls in line with some recent thinking of my colleague, Tom Mayes, that the burden of proof for demolition should fall on the owner.
Tom, in an upcoming essay prepared for a book on 50 ideas for the next 50 years of preservation, makes the compelling case that we grant too much freedom of demolition to property owners. In his essay, Tom proposes that in the U.S. we should instead enact local ordinances that begin with the premise that in the service of energy conservation and fighting climate change we must no longer allow demolition by right of ownership to virtually all buildings. Instead — as happens in Rome — institutional owners have to justify why they cannot adapt an older building.
Villa Aurelia Facade
The flip side is that the landmarks commission in Italy is much more flexible about changes to historic buildings that reflect current use. Time and again, as we moved through the house, Cristina provided examples of how the flexibility of the landmarks commission in Rome permitted changes which responded to current needs, use, and relevance.
Detail of spiral staircase
Spiral staircase
Second floor rooms at Villa Aurelia
Contemporary tile in a historic setting
So decisions are made — as in the tile shown above — to use terra-cotta in a size that was appropriate for the era but which did not “match” the existing pattern (which was unknown). Other more extensive changes took place with walls and doorways, to help facilitate current needs and use in the building.
We ended our tour on the side terraces, looking over the Eternal City. This is a view that many guests who use the villa see at the end of day. It reminds those visitors — as well as those of us who only come here on rare occasions — of the power of both the villa and the city to shape our understanding of our past, present, and future world.
Sorry. No pope sightings (or even attempts at pope sightings).
We have had a relatively low-key Holy Week while in Rome, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t had its memorable moments.
The priest leads the Palm Sunday procession through the streets of Monteverde to the Basilica di San Pancrazio
Olive Trees and Palm Sunday: Our week began last Sunday with a Palm Sunday processional at the neighborhood Basilica di San Pancrazio in Monteverde. A 6th century basilica that was extensively renovated following Garibaldi’s 1849 attack on Rome, San Pancrazio was a lively place last Sunday.
We met about a block away from the basilica and followed priests and musicians through the streets, waving olive branches in place of the palms we see in the United States. During the service, conducted (of course) entirely in Italian, we only understood the occasional word. But we knew the shape of the liturgy and could follow along without getting lost. The nave was filled with worshipers, while the aisles were used by parents and nuns to walk or stroll young children throughout the service. The music was similar to Catholic folk masses in the U.S. these days – hymns sung with varying stages of enthusiasm to the accompaniment of guitars.
This service – with its local feel and universal outreach – was a heart-felt beginning to our Holy Week in Rome.
Chapel of the Convent of St. Maria dei Sette Dolori by Francesco Borromini
Finding the Special in the Ordinary – On Holy Monday, Candice and I headed down to the center of Rome, but stopped at the foot of the hill in Trastevere to visit a small baroque chapel designed by Francesco Borromini for the Convent of St. Maria dei Sette Dolori. This is a very unassuming building from the outside and much of the original nunnery is now a hotel. However, Karl Daubman — one of the fellows at the academy — is studying Borromini’s work and suggested we stop in to see the space. The small chapel is simple (for Rome) yet beautiful, and we both took time to reflect in this quiet and holy space.
Architect Daniel Solomon — whose writings and commentary I admire — has noted that Borromini is a master of designing “masterworks that one can call buildings of the third kind.” In his book Bedside Essays for Lovers (of Cities)– which I strongly recommend – Solomon says,
In these works, architects give expression and honor to special places while simultaneously reinforcing the weave of city fabric that defines its streets and public places. Rome with its thousands of churches, palazzos, and institutions woven through the city has scores of buildings of the third kind, none more masterful than those of Francesco Borromini. Borromini was eclipsed for much of his career by the flashier and more charismatic Gian Lorenzo Bernini, and his oeuvre are mostly second-tier commissions – smallish buildings on undistinguished city sites. His greatness is built on surmounting the contradictory demands of these commissions – simultaneous city fabric and monument. Second-tier commissions produced some of the most complex and subtle works of the Western canon: San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, Sant ‘Ivo, Collegio Pamphili.
While the convent is not of the scale, complexity or beauty of San Carlo (which Solomon says “leaves the enduring lesson of how to be both a humble city builder and an architect of thundering power”), it is nonetheless a work of beauty on a small, unassuming city lot tucked away in the corner of Trastevere. And we can attest that it is a place where mindful reflection is not only possible but nurtured and rewarded.
Traditions – On Maundy Thursday, after the evening Mass that recalls Christ’s Last Supper with the Apostles, many churches in Rome open their doors. The academy staff told us that this is a tradition called “I Sepolchri” where churches decorate their main altars either to recall the Passion of Christ or the Eucharist. While we were unable to make it, several fellows from the academy went to Trastevere where the tradition is very much alive. From all accounts the church not to be missed is Santa Maria dell’Orto near San Francesco a Ripa. It is the only time they light their “Macchina delle Quarantore,” one of the few still existing in Italy that has 213 candles that are lit over the main altar. The lights in the Church are turned off and the only source of lighting is the candles. Our friend from the academy and the Getty, Jeff Cody, went and testified that it was truly spectacular and magical.
“I Sepolchri” at Santa Maria dell’Orto (photo credit: Jeff Cody)
Good Friday found us eating some of the freshest asparagus and peas imaginable at the vegetarian lunch at the American Academy, before heading out into the city. While touring, we stopped in at the Basilica di Santa Maria in Trastevere for a short time to witness the Good Friday service. The basilica is a beautiful space that – on this day – was overflowing with worshipers. We took in the scene and then headed for quieter and less crowded places. That evening, the academy’s kitchen (which is the flagship of the Rome Sustainable Food Project) served a traditional zuppa de pesce – a thick fish soup over bread – along with a wonderful white wine that brought out the largest dinner crowd of our three weeks in Rome.
The light of a beautiful Holy Saturday shines through the Pantheon
Not all Who Wander Are Lost – Saturday was as beautiful a spring day in Rome as one could imagine. After lunch, Candice and I started a long and meandering trek through the city, often finding ourselves heading down streets we hadn’t intended but always pointing toward an Easter Vigil at St. Paul’s Within the Walls. We first stopped by the Pantheon, where the light was dazzling and the altars were decorated for the season.
Easter decorations at the Pantheon
A little impromptu opera in the Piazza della Rotonda
Tourists have filled the city this week, and we stopped to listen to an opera singer entertain the crowds. Then we continued our walk and lingered over our evening dinner, finally arriving at St. Paul’s Within the Walls around 7:30 p.m.
St. Paul’s Within the Walls ready to receive visitors for the Easter Vigil
The Great Vigil of Easter – The city of Rome ceased to be governed by the Vatican in 1870 and Italy’s new constitution allowed freedom of worship and the building of non-Roman Catholic churches within the walls of the city. Less than two weeks after this announcement, the Vestry of Grace Chapel in Rome – an Episcopal Church located “outside the walls” – resolved to ask the congregation and friends of Grace Chapel in the United States for funds to build a church “within the walls.” The name of Grace Chapel was changed to “St. Paul’s Within the Walls” and ground was broken in November of 1872. The building was designed by British architect G.E. Street, and with the laying of the cornerstone on the Feast of St. Paul on January 25, 1873, it became the first non-Catholic church building inside the walls of the City of Rome.
Detail of Edward Burne Jones mosaic at St. Paul’s Within the Walls (photo credit: The Victorian Web)
Nave and Apse of St. Paul’s set up for Easter Vigil
Because the Edward Burne-Jones mosaics are covered in scaffolding for restoration, I have included one small detail from the web – but do yourself a favor and just Google the images. They are beautiful.
Rear Mosic at St. Paul’s designed by George Breck
The mosaic on the rear wall was designed by George Breck in 1913, when he was director of the American Academy in Rome. They feature the nativity with the adoration of the shepherds and kings, among other scenes.
The Great Vigil of Easter is one of the oldest in Christendom, and – truth be told – is our favorite service of the church year. Very few churches have large crowds for this Saturday evening service, as most worshipers wait for Sunday morning’s festival Eucharist. But that doesn’t keep many churches from going all out for the dozens of people who do show up. St. Paul’s – to our delight – was that type of church.
The lighting of the new fire
The vigil begins as the “new fire” is kindled and the Paschal Candle is lit outside the church. Then the priest leads the procession into a darkened church, stopping along the way to intone “The Light of Christ” to which the people respond “Thanks be to God.”
The salvation story of the Christian church is then read in the candle-lit sanctuary, beginning with the great flood and Israel’s deliverance at the Red Sea, followed by readings and songs from the prophets. Following a homily and renewal of vows, the Easter “Alleluias” begin and the lights come up throughout the church. What follows is the Easter liturgy and afterwards a reception to begin the season. St. Paul’s friendly and thoughtful rector, The Rev. Austin K. Rios, welcomed us (and two friends who had joined us from the academy), we spoke with congregants and visitors alike, and then headed home in a cab for a long and satisfying sleep.
An Easter Meal to Remember – Everyone had advised us to get reservations for Easter lunch, as Romans tend to fill up the restaurants following Sunday morning’s services. We searched Katie Parla’s recommendations and were thrilled to find that one of her top choices – Antico Arco – was mere steps from the academy. As Katie describes it,
Situated on the Janiculum Hill near Porta San Pancrazio, Antico Arco serves carefully prepared dishes that blend creativity with seasonal Italian ingredients.
If our experience today is any indication, that’s an understatement!
“Easter Breakfast” appetizer at Antico Arco
Negroamaro wine
We were greeted warmly by the staff when we arrived in mid-afternoon. The dining room was filled with multi-generational families who arrived following Easter services. Having scoped out the menu online, we quickly ordered a tasting menu to share and I asked for a full-bodied red that would go with the food. Candice also ordered the snapper as a second main course.
We were barely settled in when our waiter brought out a special treat – the “Easter breakfast” appetizer. That was soon paired with a bottle of Negroamaro, a red wine grape variety native to southern Italy. It is grown almost exclusively in Apulia and particularly in Salento, the peninsula which can be visualised as the “heel” of Italy. The grape can produce wines very deep in color and this bottle was full and flavorful.
When I remembered, I took a picture of each dish as it arrived. (There were one or two that were in my mouth before I thought to pull out my camera.) So for Claire and all the other foodie readers, here’s the exceptional tasting menu for Easter at Antico Arco:
Roasted sea scallops, mint and stewed artichokes pickled in oil
Pigeon breast
Pigeon breast in a crust of pistachio crumbs, filled with caramelized figs and sprout salad
Lentil soup
Lentil soup, seared squid and dried tomatoes
Spaghetti
Spaghetti Verrigni with carbonara sauce and black truffle (this is one that I accidentally dug into and then had to rearrange for the picture, so their original presentation was better…but the carbonara and black truffles were amazing!)
Crispy Duck Leg
Snapper with semi-dried tomatoes, caper and anchovy mayonnaise
Crispy duck leg with artichoke hearts and passion fruit (and I’ve included the snapper with the semi-dried tomatoes here, since this was the course where we shared both)
Puff pastry of burrata and tomotoes
Cremoso
For dessert, we chose the Cremoso – Walnut sponge cake and gelato, mascarpone cream, crystalized white chocolate and tangerine coulis
Two and one-half hours later, we both agreed that this was a memorable experience on multiple levels and we left singing the praises of the chef and staff.
Monday is a national holiday called “Il lunedì dell’Angelo” but colloquially referred to as “Pasquetta” (little Easter). I think we’ll use it to walk off some of Easter meal before we join our friends Michael and Dorothy from the academy for a dinner in their apartment on Monday evening.
I know I’m in Rome to think (and learn) about architecture and preservation (past and future), but recently my thoughts turned to cars.
There’s a connection here. Trust me.
If you need a car in Rome, you can find one. We’ve taken taxis on several occasions, and from those rides I can attest that there are no shortages of cars on the street. But the interesting thing — from my perspective — is how the cars and their drivers interact with others who share the street: pedestrians (of which there are many), cyclists, motorcycle riders, street vendors, buskers, and patrons at outdoor cafe tables.
Rome’s transportation patterns are somewhere between the very rational (and orderly) Copenhagen model, and the free-for-all that is New Delhi. Probably a little closer to Delhi, truth be told. Traveling in Rome is a dance, and cars are not privileged in the way they are in the United States. (We have changed our cities and planned our suburbs in a way that deifies cars, instead of supports people.) While there are major thoroughfares in Rome where speeds can reach — or exceed — American norms, the neighborhoods we have explored — Trestavere, Centro Storico, Vatican City, Monteverde (“our” neighborhood), Testaccio — are made up of small, often winding, streets. Of course, these neighborhoods include some of the world’s most famous landmarks and plenty of everyday (for Rome) buildings stretching over several centuries to the present day. Frommers notes that “Rome has the most compact and walkable city center in Europe.”
I began thinking about the walkability of Rome and the dance between all the players on these shared streets as I reviewed notes from Jeff Speck’s Walkable City and read two recent blog posts on the subject of cars, parking, and walkability in the U.S.
The first was Why I Love Trader Joe’s Parking Lots. (There’s a title to get your attention!) I’ll let the writer — Rachel Quednau — take it from here:
“These shoppers (who complain about the parking lot sizes) are frustrated because when they arrive at Trader Joe’s they can’t find parking within 5 seconds, like they can at most other grocery stores. They blame Trader Joe’s for not providing them with “sufficient” parking. But, as we have shown year after year in our #BlackFridayParking campaign, the opposite is actually true. What we are used to is massively excessive parking. What Trader Joe’s provides is actually “sufficient” parking–sufficient for a quick turnover between spots and for maximum use of limited space….
I’m guessing most of the complainers didn’t turn around and leave the store when they found the parking lot full. Rather, they waited a minute or two, saw an open spot and took it. What’s a better use of time and money? A lot big enough that it could hypothetically fit the most people that would ever want to come there? Or a lot that is full more often than not, where space is maximized and customers might have to wait a couple minutes for their turn? What benefits the business and the community more?”
A typical shared street in Trastevere
Cars in Rome (which are much smaller than our behemoths in the U.S.) find parking options we couldn’t imagine. Cars park sideways here! But it all works as part of the dance.
This point was made even more directly with the second post I read, which also has a provocative title: Mothers Against Drunk Driving Should Also Be Against Zoning. Originally posted on the Urban3 blog (and reposted on the Strong Towns blog), writer Joshua McCarthy begins by noting that Americans may have more of a driving problem than a drinking problem. He continues:
I have never understood how a zoning code could, in good faith, permit a drinking establishment that could only possibly be reached by car. In doing so, are we not creating a scenario in which people have no option but to drive to a place where they then become unable to safely drive home?
McCarthy shows the two ends of the spectrum: a neighborhood bar located in a community near homes and businesses where you have options to walk, get a drink, and walk or bus home (or back to the office) as opposed to a Buffalo Wild Wings establishment surrounded by a few acres of parking on a major thoroughfare.
Rome has more than a few drinking establishments. People come to Italy for the food and wine. But both the tourists and locals who fill those establishments often walk or take buses, trains, or taxis. You have options! What our mid-20th century planning mindset has created in the U.S. is the lack of options and — I would add — the lack of community. (But that’s another post.)
Tonight, on a glorious spring day here in Rome, Candice and I will walk through several neighborhoods — sharing the street all along the way — to find a restaurant (where at least I will have a glass of wine) before heading to the Easter Vigil service at St. Paul’s Within the Walls. Because it ends late, we’ll catch a taxi home, but we could walk or take the bus. We’ll celebrate the everyday and the eternal all along the way in a “continuous” city that reminds us that life didn’t begin — and doesn’t end — with our lives and our generation.
Those types of experiences are not as frequent in the United States, as we’ve spent 70+ years creating places that are hard to live in, much less love. G.K. Chesterton once noted that, “The city of Rome did not become loved because it was great but, rather, it became great because it was loved.”
And to think that all of this began as I was looking at cars.
Frescoes in the Capella Nuova at the Duomo in Orvieto
A couple of quick thoughts about recent days in Italy.
Orvieto update – To no one’s surprise, Orvieto (which I wrote about yesterday) is the favorite town of several of our friends and colleagues. We can see why. A long-time and dear friend from our days in Staunton, Sally James, wrote to say that Orvieto is her “home away from home!” In my original post, I didn’t mention the chapel by Fra Angeloco and Luca Signorelli, which is the topic of Sally’s first book, Signorelli and Fra Angelico at Orvieto: Liturgy, Poetry and a Vision of the End Time.
The decoration of the Cappella Nuova, commenced by Fra Angelico in 1447 and magnificently completed by Luca Signorelli in 1499 and 1504, displays an awe-inspiring Last Judgement and Apocalypse and, below it, scenes from Dante and classical literature.
This was yet another magnificent space in an incredible building full of wonderful art and architecture. Sally encourages us to look for the next issue of Gesta, probably in April, to see her article on the frescoes of the Life of the Virgin in the area around the altar.
The altar in the Capella Nuova
It is great to know such wonderfully talented and smart people! Thanks for the update, Sally.
Now THIS is Italian food – Following a wonderful presentation at MAXXI (the Museum of Contemporary Art) on Wednesday evening by graphic designer Michael Beirut of Pentagram, a small group of fellows and fellow travelers from the academy made our way to Al Moro, a traditional Italian trattoria just steps away from the Trevi fountain. We went because one of the fellows had read Katie Parla’s review of the restaurant in Saveurmagazine. (Katie Parla’s food recommendations, blog, and app for Rome have become required reading as we look for options around the city.)
A slice of Al Moro
To Candice, who grew up in New Jersey, it brought back memories of old-style Italian restaurants. The waiters were a bit gruff, but incredibly professional and helpful. The food was thick, rich, and delicious. The house wine flowed easily. The walls – where it wasn’t wood paneling – were filled with art, cartoons, and wild newspaper headlines. Here’s Katie Parla’s take:
A ten-minute walk from the Pantheon—and about 300 feet from the Trevi Fountain—a window-paned door admits visitors to the time capsule that is Trattoria al Moro. Helmed by four successive generations of Romagnolis since the 1920s, the place began humbly, slowly building a reputation among actors at the nearby Teatro Quirino. In time, it became the haunt of local artists, performers, and filmmakers, including Federico Fellini, who cast Mario Romagnoli in his 1969 film Satyricon. It remains a destination for well-heeled, decades-long regulars who, in typical Roman style, receive special pampering from the notoriously aloof owners. Third-generation Franco Romagnoli and his children Elisabetta and Andrea are unwavering in their commitment to tradition, and they serve a huge array of forgotten classics in their three wood-paneled, overcrowded dining rooms.
Her description is picture perfect – and we loved it! Candice and I split an order of the spaghetti al Moro (carbonara to die for) and a stuffed zucchini. Both were like flavor bombs in your mouth. We wrapped up with a sinful chestnut pavlova cake for dessert. Oh my.
Trevi Fountain looks better in the daytime – As we finished our meal, we waddled the 30 steps or so down to the fountain for a nighttime view. We had seen it during the daytime with Claire, and marveled at the beauty of this landmark. Illuminated at night, I have to say the effect is more “Disney.” In speaking with new friends at the academy last evening, we began discussing the light in Rome, and how these sculptures were designed to be displayed in the city’s amazing light. So I guess I’m not surprised to find that this space works better in the daylight.
Trevi Fountain at Night
However, the moon over Rome is pretty magical – The past two nights we’ve been treated to big, bright moons in relatively clear skies over Rome. Last evening we were enjoying dinner with new friends in their academy studio when someone stopped by to encourage us to walk out on the terrace and look at the moon.
Moon – peaking out from behind a cloud – over Rome
One horizontal layer of clouds was keeping the full moon at bay, but the light around the clouds, as well as the twinkling light of the city below, was beautiful and captivating. It may be our imagination, but we’ve noticed that these moments happen frequently here in Rome.
Candice and I decided early in our stay to take a day trip outside of Rome once each week during my sabbatical. A colleague had sent along a blog post on the 10 best day trips from Rome, which whetted our appetite, and with the prospect of seeing one of Italy’s best cathedrals, we jumped on a train last Tuesday to visit the Umbrian hill town of Orvieto.
What a marvelous decision!
75 minutes after leaving Rome, we pulled into the Orvieto train station on a beautiful, sunny spring day. My first thought was about how we would navigate getting up the 984′ rock plateau that serves as the base for the town. But immediately across from the station was a funicular station, and my spirits soared.
Let me pause for a second to say how much I love funiculars (or incline railways). When we were young, my father (the TVA engineer) use to take us to see old and new engineering projects, and one of my earliest recollections was taking a small funicular to the power house at Great Falls (downstream from the Great Falls Dam on the Caney Fork River). We also took the Lookout Mountain Incline Railway on several occasions, and I now always take the opportunity when I find one. (It turns out that the father of the engineer of Great Falls dam designed the Lookout Mountain Incline, but I cannot find any mention of the builder of the one at Great Falls.) Angels Flight in Los Angeles is a special one I remember riding several times on a day of exploration in the city back in 2000 (alas, it is closed at the moment), and Pittsburgh still has two operational funiculars.
But back to Orvieto. The funicular provided spectacular views of the landscape we had ridden through on the train, and about 90 seconds later it deposited us in the city itself. We immediately set out on foot to find the cathedral. When guidebooks call something “the best” or “one of the best,” I find my tastes and interests often differ. This wasn’t the case with the Duomo di Orvieto. As soon as the facade came into view, we could tell this Italian Gothic gem was going to be worth the trip.
Duomo di Orvieto facade as seen from the street approaching the cathedral
Cathedral facade
After eating our take away lunches from the academy on the steps of the cathedral, we began to explore this magnificent facade. 13th and 14th century bas-relief panels frame the contemporary bronze doors, designed by Emilio Greco.
Main door, bas-relief panels, and mosaics at the Orvieto Duomo
Bronze doors to the cathedral by Emilio Greco
Rich facade detailing
The mosaics from the 14th and 19th centuries are remarkable features of the facade, and I was only disappointed that I had left my longer lens at the apartment to lighten the load in my backpack.
While the facade is often cited most frequently in references to the Duomo, I found the interior to be equally captivating. The scale and volume of space first catch your attention upon entering.
Orvieto Duomo Interior
Because we were visiting on a Tuesday, the groups of tourists were rather light (especially after one school group quickly worked its way through the high spots and then exited). We spent over an hour exploring this wonderful space, from the fragments of the frescoes, to the highly decorated Chapel of the Corporal, to the altar and monumental organ, designed by the principal sculptor and architect of the cathedral work-yard in the 16th century.
Fresco fragments from the 14th and 15th centuries, below an alabaster window
The Chapel of the Corporal
The main altar at the Orvieto Duomo, with reproductions of the 14th century choir stalls and a crucifix from the same period
The 16th century organ case, as seen from the Cappella Nova
We ended our tour of the cathedral at the 1579 Pietà by Ippolito Scalza.
Pieta by Ippolito Scalza
For the remainder of the day, we wandered the streets of Orvieto, going down the countless small streets to find other churches, winding staircases, and piazzas. We walked to the edge of the town to marvel at the view of the countryside. And – of course – we shopped and ate in the many small stores and cafes along the way.
A typical street in Orvieto
Piazza della Repubblica
Sant’Andrea with a 12-sided campanile from the original 12th-century building
The countryside of Umbria, as seen from San Giovenale at Orvieto’s western edge
Late in the afternoon we stopped in a cafe for some local wine and bruschetta, while striking up a conversation with three college-age young ladies from Boston’s Gordon College who were studying in Orvieto for the semester. They talked about their experiences in this wonderful small city, and we thought of our twins’ time abroad. Candice and I could picture them in similar cafes in other cities, catching wi-fi and nursing coffees and tea to try and extend their experiences of travel. As the night – and temperatures – fell, we were happy to board our train back to Rome yet were somewhat saddened to end a lovely day in Orvieto.
More to come…
DJB
Image: View of the Umbrian landscape from the edge of Orvieto by DJB
