[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 5 October 2010

How does art happen?

Art happens when a problem needs solved, when a question needs answered.  Art uses ingenuity and research to respond to the times.  In Rome, art happens when someone or some institution has enough money to commission it.  I am an unpaid artist, but my art is still a solution.

Art in Rome: Show Me the Money

Typically, the money in Rome flows from the pockets of the papacy.  The Roman Catholic Church was the largest benefactor of artworks during the Renaissance and throughout most of modern times.  By commissioning masters like Michelangelo, Bernini and Raphael, the Church allowed art to happen.  But, the Church did not make art happen, that was left up to the artists.

Within the times when the Church was just flexing its organizational and unification muscles, it hired artists to craft art that communicated power.  The signs of the times being communicated by the Church were God is larger than us all and his power is manifest in this institution.  That is why the cathedrals were towering, part awe inspiring, part power-play.  One must remember that Christianity was persecuted before the rule of Constantine, so being able to commission artworks, the Church not only wanted to answer the question: who are the Catholics?, but, also wanted to express the religion that could not publicly exist for hundreds of years.  God answered prayers, and the Church used architectural and classical art as a solution to express that.

Answering Civic Questions

Artworks in Rome transcend religious works.  Michelangelo not only crafted the Sistine Chapel, but the Coronata, a set of stairs that made Capitoline Hill easily accessible by horseback.  Stairs are a common solution needed during the times of Rome’s expansion.  The Spanish Steps are another piece of art that solved the problem of connecting the church to Piazza di Spagna.  Then there is the architectural solution for making twin churches on asymmetrical plots of land.  Artist’s work can found in Piazza del Popolo.  These artistic feats of ingenuity answer questions of city planning and function.

Modern Questions

This is the art of the past which has brought us to new social commentary, answered not by stairs or fountains, but by more questions, posed by definitive words and pictures.  I have been consistently frustrated with Rome’s ancient art.  It is humbling to stand in front of a sculpture that is from hundreds of centuries before the Common Era, but I miss art that not only represents the time it came from, but challenges the power that Roman art has been commission to represent.  Today, some art forges solution for city planning, whilst others forge ahead to tackle questions of oppression, dogma and what it means to be human today.

Spanish Art Has My Heart

To me, art happens when man expresses himself, and by doing so, puts his neck on the line.  I love the art movements of the past century, including artists who spear-headed them like Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali.  A beautiful picture means nothing to me, give me a Picasso sketch that looks like a child drew it, and let me explore his revolutionary statements contained in the lead his pencil.  I love to see how Dali bends reality, stretches us to the limit, and then leaves us to deal with the recoil.  Art happens when it is prompted, and, in my opinion, the best art happens when money isn’t the impetus.  Picasso, as an aging millionaire, was putting oil to canvas the night before he died.  That is art happening.  That is when the line between living and creating has been erased by broken pencils, turpentine and splattering paints.

How Art Happens for Me

For me, art happens from a prompt.  Sometimes I ruminate on the artists before me, especially some of my favorites noted above, other times I must seek an answer to a question I have posed, or others have posed to me.  Other times, art happens when I am internally prompted, it’s not quantifiable question, it’s just an innate need to pick up a pen and write down answers, and more questions.  I like to plan, but I also like spontaneity in my creative pieces.  Art happens depending on the time, the moment when it begins.  This journal is art to me.  The computer I type it on is a piece of art.  Some may even say the fingers that tick away on the keys are works of art.  I do have a flair for the revolutionary, but I must admit that I see art in everything.  I get frustrated with Roman art, but I still see that it happened and that it continues propels art forward.  I have gone to the Coliseum and seen students with cameras capturing an artistic angle, I have been to the Uffizi and seen a young woman sketching the view out the window, and I have sat on the train and written about the ruins on the Roman aqua ducts that line our journey into Termini Station.

Art is a solution.  Art happens when one is needed.  Luckily, the world is full of endless questions.

[Salvador Dali]

[314] Rome & Jerusalem, 23 Set 2010

North Africans, Jews, Gypsies & Mexicans…

This prompt asked us to respond to what these four groups have in common, and explain what we have learned throughout the semester. The connection I found was immigration and oppression. To oppress is to stifle the growth of another by imposing strictures that deprive one of their right to a truly human life. Through the lens of the oppressor, I set out to explain how the walls that we build up between ourselves oppress the individuals on both sides.

Immigration is not just an Italian problem, or solely a European phenomenon, but a global issue. But, a truly Italian notion is bella figura, the beautiful image. This innate need to project beauty keeps oppressive structures in place. This image keeps us blind. So what do we do with the sight of Gypsies begging and North Africans hawking goods? What do we do with the remnants of Jewish ghettos and the modern ghettos the Gypsies call home? Sight oppresses us just as much as blindness, but offers us the chance at liberation.

Oppression is born of fear: fear of our own weaknesses, fear of becoming oppressed, fear of the unknown. At the root of it, we fear the loss of our naïve, yet beautiful image of the world. We react in many ways, including stereotyping. Oh yes, we, as in all of us. We oppress to allow our realities to remain unmarred by the image of the world. By upholding this image, we are contributing to oppression, which proves our weakness.

Oppression has been made manifest in the world culture upon many groups of peoples, including North Africans, Jews, Gypsies and Mexicans. For the purposes of this paper, I am going to discuss the situation of North Africans, Jews and Gypsies in Italy, and the situation of the Mexicans in America. But, these groups are not only found in the locations that I will discuss. North Africans and Gypsies flee to America as well, and oppression is not far behind them.

Gypsies, North Africans and Jews faced, and face, oppression of ghettos. Starting in the 1500s, Jews were quarantined behind walls, allowed to live but not thrive. They were misunderstood as bearers of bad luck and were feared as businessmen. Liberation came in the form of a unified Italy at the end of the 1800s, but less than century later, Jews found themselves ghettoed again, but the Nazi party. The work of the Nazis was to systematically destroy the life of those outside the Aryan ideal. Gypsies fell into this category too. Close to half a million Gypsies perished during the Holocaust, one of the largest ethnic genocides in history.

Today, the term Gypsy encompasses a lifestyle, not just the Medieval Indian caste that set left the oppression of the caste system to make lives for themselves. North African immigrants who live in camps and work illegally are also Gypsies. The Gypsies in Italy live in modern day ghettos, authorized by the government, that have police at every entrance. As you can deduct, not much has changed. Even America, a nation of immigrants, has not learned to stop the cycle. Mexicans are more than just the butt of jokes, they have become both the backbone and vain of our existence.

The walls that divide us - be them the walls of ghettos, or the metaphorical walls that are erected by stereotypes - oppress both sides of humanity. As the oppressors fester with misinformation and fear, those that are oppressed learn to hate the other population, disdain them for the pain that has been inflicted upon them. Who can blame them? If we, as a society, can make sweeping generalities about them, what stops them from doing the same? Us and them … that is the crux of the matter. The oppressed have been relegated to the “other” status. How can one deny the humanity of another human being?

I want to shout, “The dominant image of my culture is not me!”

And I am sure that sentiment is shared by those who face the oppression I symbolize. This is the mantra of both sides of the border of oppression; the mantra of misunderstanding. Here is where image overrides reality; where the beautiful image points not to progress, but to oppression. This image is smoke in mirrors, it’s photoshopping, it’s a mask … it’s not real. So what is real? Knowledge is real. I think it is even fitting to let you know that knowledge is power. And with knowledge comes responsibility. Instead of dressing up your reflection with makeup, keeping that beautiful image, and compelling the decay, look in the mirror and critique your reflection.

By oppressing these people we are stifling the growth of our minds and the development of the world. One must know history to know self, and know self to know the future. I believe that the true beautiful image is yet to be…

[325] Rome & Jerusalem, 21 Set 2010

The Pope’s address on Easter and Christmas always begins, “Urbi et Orbi” – “To the City of Rome and to the World.” The term “Roman Catholic” also suggests that there is something “roman” and something “universal” about the Church. In what sense is the Church “roman” and in what sense is it “global?”

In response to the question of the Roman and universal characteristics of the Catholic Church, and to the article “Full communion a very distant goal1,” I offer this journal entry …

Last weekend, Pope Benedict XVI was in Great Britain. During his time there, he participated in an ecumenical service at London’s Westminster Abbey, the headquarters of the Church of England. His visit to Great Britain marked the first visit of the papacy to this land since the Reformation. The Reformation’s roots came from disagreement on papal authority and Benedict explained the purpose for his visit was not to “dwell on differences which we all know exist,” but to “set our sights on the ultimate goal of all ecumenical activity: the restoration of full ecclesial communion.”

Ecumenical means universal, and so does the word “catholic.” Why does it seem that the universal nature of catholic is lost when the “c” is capitalized? Does the roman nature of the Church nullify its universality?

The Roman Catholic Church is indeed roman, in respects that it developed within the cultural structure of Rome. This means imperialism, militarism and visual manifestations of power are bound to the framework of the Church. Missionary zeal could be equated to Roman imperialism, and the destructive force of the Crusades was all too militaristic. And then you have, in Rome alone, numerous towering basilicas and churches, professing the might of the Church. Rome inspires pilgrims from around the world. St. Peter’s Square is filled every Wednesday with tens-of-thousands of people, from every corner of the globe, united in belief, awe, or interest in Catholicism and the Pope. But, a square filled with diverse groups of people does not mean that the Catholic Church is universal.

There is a two-fold definition of universality. First, it means the quality, fact or condition of existing everywhere. In this regard, the Roman Catholic Church is indeed universal. The second part of this definition states that universality denotes “universal inclusiveness in scope or range, especially great or unbounded versatility of the mind.”2 This part of the definition is what I believe it means to be truly universal, and because of this, I do not believe the Church itself is universal.

Universal inclusiveness eludes the Roman Catholic Church as an institution. But, universality does exist. True universality is found in the Word of God and in His Kingdom. The Kingdom is salvation for all, a universal entity that affects this life, and the entirety of the earth. The Church is an instrument of the Kingdom, but not the Kingdom itself. The Kingdom is both the genesis and goal of the Roman Catholic Church. Universality is at the heart of the Church, but its roman manifestations separate it from the totality of humanity. Humankind is united in its hopes for fulfillment, for a truly human life, but it is yet to be connected under one universal organization.

“Full communion was and still remains the goal,” said Christopher Hill, the Anglican bishop of Guilford, who has been involved in Catholic-Anglican dialogue. “How distant the goal is, is another matter. It’s not that close now.” We are not close to full communion of all religions, a breaking down of the systems of separation.  But, the renewed interest in seeing what unites all religions, a search into the roots of Christianity, along with a discovery of common themes throughout all faiths, does bring light into the darkness of division.  Maybe we are not close to full communion, but through ecumenical acts, we are now closer than ever before. 

(1) International Herald Tribune. 22 September 2010. 3.
(2) www.freedictionary.com

[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 20 September 2010

Sistine Chapel: Creation of Adam

"The Creation of Adam" is the fourth panel on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  The frescos of the Sistine Chapel were painted by Michelangelo during 1508 and 1512.  "The Creation of Adam" (1511) was one of the last paintings to be completed. The dimesions of this painting are 130 feet 6 inches x 43 feet 5 inches.

I wanted to focus not on the whole fresco, but on the section containing God and Eve.  As you can see, as God reaches out His finger to Adam, there is a female figure emerging from behind him who has her left hand clutched on God's left arm.  Our tour guide told us that this female was Eve, and Michelangelo painted her in to portray his view that God had the idea of Eve during the creation of man.  God's hand also extend over, touching a child.  It is believed that this baby represents Christ.  All of the images behind God are yet to be born.

This image of Eve resonated with the poet, Vittoria Colonna. In her sonnet to Michelangelo she wrote:

I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes

When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found;

But far within, where all is holy ground,

My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:

For she was born with God in Paradise.

This image that depicts the spark of love, that is life, between God and man, also inspires love in its viewers.  "The Creation of Adam" is truly a powerful piece of artwork.  Within this painting, Michelangelo captured both the creation of man, and the creation of love.

http://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/arts/artwork/sistine-chapel-michelangelo-paintings5.htm

http://www.thecreationofadam.com/

http://www.eyeconart.net/history/Renaissance/michelangelo.htm

Porta Sancta of St. Peter's

To the right of the entrance of St. Peter's, before you hit Michelangelo's La Pieta, there is a concrete wall, with a gold cross.  Standing by Michelangelo's statue, I watched numerous people walk up to the cross and touch its worn and discolored bottom.  This cross marks the Porta Sancta, the Holy Door of St. Peter's.

This door is only opened on a Holy Year (Jubilee), which is every twenty-five years.  The Pope cracks the cement with a silver hammer on the first day of a Holy Year.  This ceremony was inducted in 1450, and was tied to indulgences.  The abuse of indulgences led to the door being only opened once every one hundred years.  As the rules stand today, the Pope can open the doors whenever he wishes, but the ceremonial opening has been linked to the Jubilee.

When the wall is gone, the "Door of the Great Pardon" can be seen.  It is made up of bronze panels, crafted by Vico Consorti, that depict scenes of man's sin and redemption through God's mercy.  Vico's door replaced the wooden doors that occupied the space from 1749-1948.  One of the panels crafts the scene of Jesus unlocking the heart of doubting Thomas. 

The symbolism of opening the doors is of God's mercy, reaching out to mankind's frailty.  The door itself reprenents Jesus, who opened the gate of salvation up to mankind.By passing through the doors, pilgrims are symbolically conquering Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise. 

The last time the Holy Door was opened was in 2000, by Pope John Paul II.

 

http://saintpetersbasilica.org/Interior/HolyDoor/HolyDoor.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_door

[314] Rome and Jerusalem, 16 September 2010

What is the impact of the ghetto (in both the old sense and a contemporary sense) on the people inside and the people outside?

Jewish ghettos were inhumane. People were confined behind walls and gates, forced into a space that did not allow enough room to live. There was no room to move out, so the Jews built up – literally living on top of each other. For three-hundred years, this imprisonment went on in Rome. The impact of this inhumanity is still being understood today. I feel that the best way to shed light on the ghettos is to look at the most personal, and arguably the most human impact: emotional. This journal will look into the emotional impact of separation, both inside and outside the ghetto.

Standing outside the Roman ghetto, I didn’t notice anything different than the rest of the city. There are walls, but Italians love walls (just another expression power). I could see a large synagogue, but it was constructed by Italian architects, thus, its design mirrored other buildings throughout the city. Once inside, we were told that the synagogue was actually designed like a church, the proportions were not authentic. Its high, square dome is unique, but still fits this Jewish landmark snuggly into the skyline of Rome.

The “normalcy” quickly disappeared when I walked inside the gates. An unassuming wall contained a plaque, commemorating the date October 16, 1943. On this date, Nazis stormed the ghetto and took nearly two-hundred people to Auschwitz. Only sixteen returned. These rip-out-your-heart-and-watch-it-bleed stories are the old ghetto, not the ghetto we see today. The new buildings that stand within the walls work to cover up the perpetual tragedy that was the Roman ghetto. Without attention to detail, this area would have had no emotional implications to me; it would have been like any other. But, just like every piece of land in Rome, history lives around every corner and in every step.

The residents of the historical ghetto must have felt the pangs of separation. These walls and gates locked them away from the rest of the world, perpetuating confusion and paranoia. Then, there was also separation felt when the ghettos were emptied. The wails of emotional pain sounded off the walls, replaced only by the absence of feeling – actually, of pain to deep to express. I doubt that the people felt weak, the one emotion that the key-holders wanted.

But what did these oppressors feel? How about the men who locked the gates at night, or the people who moved freely through the ghetto during the day, then got to spend their nights in their homes outside the walls? The popes, especially Pope Paul IV who created the ghetto, must have felt a sense of power and accomplishment. Believers may have seen these ghettos and been afraid of turning their backs on Catholicism, or at least that was the hope of the ghettos – to serve as an example. The only example I see is that of community, of people who came together under the worst of situations and found a way to not be discouraged.

I think that the Jewish community, both old and new, was able to thrive because of the sense of family the ghetto provided. As Elsa Morante explains in The Smiles of Rome, “It was a place […] of a single, endless family.” (289) The emotional implications of family are a lot to unpack. But, the sense of being a part of something bigger, and having a community to rely on, is what I can boiled it down to. With these factors, one can feel comfort, a feeling that saturates the Roman ghetto today.

Now, the gates are gone. There is no terror palpable inside the ghetto’s walls. It is a pleasant place, filled with pleasant people. The streets are filled with more people than cars, and it feels as if the ghetto could be somewhat of a suburb to this Eternal City. There are children on break from Hebrew School, old men sipping caffé, legs crossed, talking of some unknown topic in exaggerated Italian, and plenty of women, young and old, chatting in and out of store fronts. The only separation I sense is that of a traveler viewing a local. As the group happens upon a kosher restaurant, even that feeling subsides as the owner pats Rabbi Spitzer on the back and encourages us all to take a seat.

Though the walls are gone, separation still permeates the ghetto. But now, it isn’t imposed by authority, it is the product of comprehension. What can we, the Gentiles, fathom? I can hear stories, see museums, walk the ghetto's streets … but I can never get past the wall of empathy. I can’t imagine. I don’t know what it’s like. So, I enter where the gate once stood, and physically enter the walls of this separation, hoping to open the doors of the gate in my mind.

[325] Rome: Stories & Traditions, 6 September 2010

How does the piazza provide a lens toward Italian culture?

Italian culture has been mimicked and caricatured throughout the world. In Italy, this theatrical culture of expressive life, indulgent foods and religious prominence has found its biggest stage. Barzini explains, “The surface of Italian life […] has many characteristics of a show. It is, first of all, almost always entertaining, moving, unreservedly picturesque […] secondarily, all its effects are skillfully, if not always consciously, contrived and graduated to convey a certain message to […] the bystanders.” (74) From the piazzas of Rome, foreign bystanders become theater-goers, observing this show we know as Italian culture. Spooning la dolce vita into our open mouths, listening to the cries of a worn violin, travelers realize that Italy is speaking: “destiny can wait.”

To come to piazzas to observe is not a foreign idea; actually, Italians have been doing so since the Renaissance. The residences that surround piazzas all have balconies, “as convenient as boxes at the theater.” (Barzini) This culture is truly social and piazzas beckon characters like theaters call actors – the pull is not engineered, but instinctual. The piazza’s shows range from drama to comedy, with the mandatory love stories. The props range from Bernini fountains to soaring cathedrals. There are waiters in perfect black bow-tied costumes, ushering audiences into seats. The front row flowing onto sidewalks and streets.

The street that leads to one of Rome’s greatest piazzas, Piazza di Spagna, is Via Condotti. This is where tourists and locals alike find the most elegant shops, and the most deceptive actors. “The art of appearing rich has been cultivated in Italy as nowhere else,” Barzini testifies, because Italians have consistently found it difficult to acquire real power and wealth. (83) Oftentimes, the local that walks by in Gucci does not own more than the clothes on his back. It is more important to live lavishly on the street than in one’s home, because life is lived outside. Ancient Romans are known for their architecture, but today, fashion is the new show of power and prosperity. If enough people believe the show they see, it becomes a reality.

This show is perpetuated throughout Italy – not just of prosperity, but of fantasy. “Everything must be made to sparkle, a simple meal, an ordinary transaction, […] a cowardly capitulation must be embellished and ennobled with euphemisms, adornments. […] These practices were not developed by people who find life rewarding and exhilarating, but by a pessimistic, realistic, resigned and frightened people.” (75) Nothing unites people more than fear. Fear of disorder is silenced by the organization of Roman streets and the geometrical perfection of piazzas.

Unity is manifest in piazzas. There is food, art, and churches (the most Roman form of unification). Every piazza contains a church, and in the case of Piazza di Popolo, three churches. Religious life permeates the culture of Italy. Rome is one of the most important cities for the Christian religion, and the number of papal crests on buildings, and nuns roaming the streets, serve as tangible examples to that fact. There is a definite show of power with churches: golden mosaics, cumbersome marble columns, ceilings that seem to reach heaven, and crosses ten times the size of life. Tourists flock to these vaults of cultural richness, but on Sunday, the churches are never full. It seems as if the show of dominance is more important than the actual influence of faith.

So, religion and wealth are distorted pictures in piazzas, but there is one way to understand Italian culture: food! Standing at Bernini’s fountain in the center of Piazza Nuvona, one can do a three-sixty and see multiple sit down restaurants, gelaterias, pizzerias and sandwich shops. Throwing my arms up in the air, I spin around and take in the smells of fresh tomato sauce and baking bread. Here is Italian culture, the simplicity of pure food and the pleasure of enjoying it with characters of your life. I run up to Danilo and ask, “Where would you recommend we eat at?” I was prepared for options, but got a curt, yet genuine response, “I don’t know, Italians don’t eat here.” The show started crumbling.

I wheeled around, searching with my vision for verification of what he said. I saw people, plenty of people, but, they had that air of trying to be Italian, but not really succeeding. How could this be? The piazzas, just a moment before, had been everything Italian to me. Now I see the Germans seated in the front rows of restaurants, the Chinese taking individual photos by the fountain, and the Americans devouring huge slices of pizza. Maybe the piazza was the stage of culture earlier in history, but now it just seems to be a reflection of what we, as tourists, think Italian culture should be. But, that is not entirely true, “in fact, the thing and its representation often coincide exactly” in Italy. (85) This is all just a show of Italian culture, but this culture is a show.

I follow Danilo to a place the tourists don’t know around Piazza Nuvona, a hole in the wall smoothie shop. He orders banana mango, and I split banana strawberry with my friend Rebeka. We take our seats on the street and gaze at the actors. Pretending to be a local, I add to the open air theater, becoming a part of the revolt. Take it from an Italian, “Often, to put up a show becomes the only pathetic way to revolt against destiny, to face life’s injustices with one of the few weapons available to a desperate and brave people, their imagination.” (Barzini 83) As I sip my smoothie, I do not feel the pangs of fear that follow me at home, the overwhelming feeling of mortality. For now, the world is kind, life is sweet, and I feel immortal.

Piazza Nuvona with some awesome characters: Barbie & Ali.

[314] Rome & Jerusalem, 2 September 2010

In what ways is Georgio Perlasca an “authentic Italian hero?” What does “authentic hero” mean?

“Whoever saves a single soul, it is as if he saved the entire world.” (1)

Since the end of World War II, the Yad Vashem has been awarding “non-Jews who specifically addressed themselves to the Jewish issue, and risked their lives in the attempt to aid Jews” with the Righteous Gentile distinction. (2) To date, over 16,000 people have been recognized, 468 Italians alone. Among these Italians is a man named Georgio Perlasca. Perlasca’s dedication to the Jewish community in Budapest saved over 5,000 lives, a feat which eventually led to his recognition in film: Perlasca: The Courage of a Just Man. He is more than a mythical heroin, he is authentic.

Perlasca, an Italian Catholic, worked with the Italy’s military as a provisionary. While in Budapest collecting supplies, a location that had remained untouched by the war, Perlasca was swept up in wartime events, alongside Hungarian Jews. Unlike the Jews, he had connections with the Spanish embassy. As a soldier in Franco’s army, Perlasca had received a document that allowed him safe-keeping at the Spanish embassy. Upon finding the embassy, he learned that the ambassador was moving to a safer location, and he was given the option of staying there or moving along with him. Perlasca decided not only to stay, but to impersonate the ambassador.

Assuming the role of ambassador, Perlasca handed out letters of safe haven to Jewish peoples. He had learned of the Nazi’s plans for Jewish ghettos in Budapest, and eventual extermination, and deliberately put himself between the Nazis and the Jews. He faced emanate death and unspeakable danger, but never backed down – a feat of valor that most people would agree they could never muster the courage to do. Once the war ended, Perlasca returned to Italy and his family. He never spoke of his wartime heroism, but he did write his account down, making three copies.

The first copy he sent to the Vatican, the second to the Spanish government, and the third he housed in his coffee table. His story was discovered by his daughter-in-law, who was instructed by an ailing Perlasca to open up the drawer of the coffee table. After verification of accounts by Jews that he helped, Georgio Perlasca was awarded “Righteous Gentile” status. Thousands of people have risked their lives to save Jews, procuring the same status as Perlasca. When one searches the archives of “Righteous Gentiles” his name is not included on the people of note.

The fact that countless others have worked towards the same end as Perlasca does not make him a faux hero. He is more of a hero because his dedication to life can be imitated. Furthermore, his authenticity stems from his obscurity. Perlasca retained his humanity after completing superhuman acts. He went back to his life. He did not search out acknowledgement by peddling his story, making himself into a character or superhero; he continued living as he always had. He lived out Matthew’s Gospel message, “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (3) He was rewarded, and his life left inspiration for us all. One cannot hope to save thousands of lives, but by saving one, the world is saved.

(1) The inscription found on “Righteous Gentile” medal. http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/righteous.html
(2) Henry, Marilyn. http://christianactionforisrael.org/isreport/righteous.html
(3) Matthew 6:3-4.

[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 31 Aug 2010

Blasi & Montano Organ (1598)

This organ, found in Basilica San Giovanni in Laterano, Rome, Italy, is the oldest organ in Italy.  The organ was engineered by Luca Blasi, and the Giovan Battista Montano decorated it.  The central pipe is 8 feet high and it weighs more than 400 pounds. I am not sure of the dimensions or material for this piece of art, but I do know that the gold that adorns it was part of the booty that Christopher Columbus brought back from America.

This organ was commissioned in 1597 by Pope Clemens VII.  It is located on the right trancept wall of the basilica, right above the entrance doors.  The whole wall is decorated with music related reliefs and stautes, including Ezekial and David playing instruments.

David's song of praise is found in 2 Samuel 22: "Therefore I will praise you, O LORD, among the nations I will sing praises to your name."  With this organ, a congregation of the faithful have ben able to sing God's praises for over 400 years.  The praise David speaks of has been manifest in many ways throughout the years, including an adaptation of sacred songs by Duke Ellington.  As I stared up at this massive organ and the sculpture of David, I remembered the song "David Up and Danced" that I sang in jazz choir this summer. Here is the link, I am the second person in on the right, in the front row.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R25B6toL8Z0&feature=related

The power of worship is not in the size of an organ, or the age and decoration of a church, but in the spiritual connections that people find within its walls.  The instrument that Blasi provided this church brought fruitfulness of worship, and for me, brought me home.

http://pipedreams.publicradio.org/gallery/italy/rome_lateran_alari.shtml
http://www.romeartlover.it/Organs.html

Sculpture at the Shrine of Ardeatine

The Shrine of the Ardeatine was opened in 1949 and serves as a constant reminder of the Nazi massacre in Rome.  On March 24, 1944, in the quaries of Ardeatina Street, 335 men were rounded up and killed as retribution for the deaths of 33 German soldiers, killed by Italian partisans.  The German soliders were killed in a ploted attack because of the devestation they had caused in Rome the months previous.  Upon hearing of his men's deaths, Kesselring decided that ten Italians had to die for each German head.  The victims were mostly civilians and Italian prisoners of war, ranging in age from 14 to 75 years old.

The sculpture that stands outside of the burial site was crafted by Francesco Coccia.  Coccia, a travertine sculptor, completed this work of tufa stone in 1948.  The name of this piece is "Martyrs".  The three men grouped together represent the young people, adults and seniors that were "joined in the Martyrdom of the Ardeatine caves." 

The brutality of this event cannot be adequately captured.  The Nazis dragged the victims into a cave in groups of five.  Lined them up on their knees and shot them in the cerebellum, to ensure that it only took one shot to kill.  It took the entire day to complete this senseless retribution.  Groups being brought in had to knee on top of the bodies of those who had been shot before them.  Not all of the Italians were killed instantly, some met death when the Germans bombed the area to seal the grave. 

When Rome was liberated by the Allies and the cave was exhumed, the bodies of a son, inside his fathers arms, were found.  This image of the father and son bound together, brings me back to the Coccia's sculpture.  Although these men are no longer here, Italy, and the world, can hold them in the arms of our memory.

www.anfim.it/wai/mausoleo.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ardeatine_massacre#Preparation_for_the_reprisal

[325] Rome: Stories & Traditions, 30 Aug 2010

The major religions of the West, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, all promise some sort of future salvation. However, all are inextricably linked to the past. Does history contribute/bolster faith, or does the past limit faith?

Christianity is both bound to the past, and oriented to future salvation. The link between the past and salvation is problematic because history does not paint a coherent righteous picture. The canvas of Eden has been smudged with tyrannical fingerprints, scraped by crosses wielded by the Inquisition and sectioned off and sold as indulgences. We are left with the ruins. But, Eden is not the salvation of man. As Gustavo Gutierrez explains, “The goal of humanity is not to attain paradise lost, but to march forward towards a new city.” (89) History then, is man’s continual attempt at creating this new city, a city of salvation known as the Kingdom of God.

Although I introduced this entry in light of Christianity, I must explain that the idea of salvation has changed from the saving of a “privileged few”, to include all of humanity. The religion one claims, or lack thereof, does not determine their future salvation. Now, in the post Vatican II era, the Church teaches that there is one human destiny. Just like persons of all faiths share the earth and its history, we all also share the ability to aid in our united salvation.

But, what do we do with the ruins? I detest trite sayings, but I think this one is applicable due to my current location: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” What do the Romans do with ruins of past grandeur? They strip them of that which is valuable and leave the faulty foundations. Take the Coliseum, the marble and copper were carted off, melted down and reused in the new society. The bricks and stones remained, and do to this day, portraying the ingenuity of Roman architecture, but the instability of man-made immortality. The Roman emperors crafted a world where they reigned as peers of the gods, but this was not the new city destined for humanity. St. Peter writes, “All flesh is grass and its glory like the wild flower’s. The grass withers, the flower falls, but the word of the Lord remains forever.” (Smiles of Rome 75) Humanity is led astray when man focuses on his ego and loses sight of the will of his people, and the eternal power of God.

With the proverbial ruins of Eden, humanity can strip of history that which can aid in salvation, and leave behind the foundations of injustice. I am not advocating forgetting history. One should understand the past, both good and bad, and use this knowledge to better the future. As the Romans did, each generation must build upon the last. To grow in faith, building upon the past means rectifying wrongdoings and bringing the world back to basics of religion, turning our focus not on ourselves, but on community.

A testament to faith is the fact that man is still building this community, and creating cities.  Futhermore, man has added the colors of equality and universality to the canvas of salvation.  These ideas were only scrap material in Ancient Rome. We have not reached salvation yet, but it “is present at the heart of human history, and there is no human act which is not defined in terms of it.” (Gutierrez 105) History both bolsters and limits faith, a religious checks and balances. Without being challenged, faith would not grow; but without faith, humanity would not grow. 

[314] Rome & Jerusalem, 26 Aug 2010

Are there parallels between the Rome/Jerusalem reality and our contemporary world?

The “Second Commonwealth of Israel” (530 BCE- 70 CE) and Roman Empire (1st century CE) are two periods in time where cities rose to power, and in doing so, came into conflict. Israel’s city of paramount importance is Jerusalem. The Roman Empire had its foundation in Rome. At the beginning of the first millennium of the Common Era, both of these cities reached their peak of power and influence. The reality of this situation was that each of these cities was like sandpaper, and when they met each other, points of abrasiveness became apparent. Abrasiveness was generated by the differences in the cultures, like the varying viewpoints Rome and Jerusalem held on respect and ethics.

During the Roman Empire, Rome was an empirical city, which meant that its power derived from military might and conquest. Few people held power, and those who did subjected the masses to their whims. With conquest, came slaves, and it was not uncommon for a royal family of forty people to be in service of hundreds-of-thousands of slaves. Respect was not earned, but demanded. The emperor was seen as a god, thus ethics were not derived from religious convictions or philosophical thought, but from he whom wielded power.

Jerusalem, although powerful, derived its might not from conquest, but pilgrimages. The religious fervor of this city was palpable. Jerusalem functioned as a Temple City: no one man was more important than God. The spirituality that permeated this city led to a culture united in respect and ethics, under the overarching unity that Judaism provided. Today, the reality of Rome and Jerusalem, two organizational powers, can be witnessed in the abrasiveness of musical powers: the record industry and musical theater. The record industry dominates the contemporary world with its wealth, while musical theater thrives with its wealth of transcendence.

The record industry is the Roman Empire of musical powers. Its power is derived from domination and control of what reaches the masses. This industry conquers new artists, carrying their booty of royalties and platinum records up the Via Sacra, and then hunts down the next territory of marketable music. Once conquered, these artists become slaves to the record company. In one year or a four year contract, a four-member band will make the record company in excess of $700,000, while netting for themselves $4,000 each. (http://www.negativland.com/albini.html) Ethics cannot hold a candle to the unalienable importance of revenue.

The Jerusalem of musical powers is musical theater. Instead of power being vested solely in the hierarchy of industry professionals, power is derived from the theater itself. Like Jerusalem, musical theater is centered on a temple, denoted in Christian religions as a church. As Mary Visser explains in The Smiles of Rome (93):

"The closest relative of a church is theater, where people also come together to witness a scripted performance […] a trajectory of the soul. They come to be led by the performance to achieve contact with transcendence, […] to understand something they never understood before, to feel relief, to stare in amazement, or to cry."

Theaters are the soul of musical theater. To deny the power of industry politics in theater would be a lie, but that is not the point where the powers of the record industry and musical theater conflict. The intention of the institutions themselves brings about their inherent abrasiveness: respect for music.

Both industries claim that their intent is to create music, but the music that is produced reveals true intention. The record industry is kept in power through pop music. Pop music can be defined as “commercially recorded music, often oriented towards a youth market, usually consisting of relatively short, simple love songs utilizing technological innovations to produce new variations on existing themes.” (www.wikipedia.com) This type of music does not make progressive developments, but continues domination through the same form of conquest. Musical theater’s secular output is known “show tunes.” Show tunes are individual songs from a musical that tell part of the story, but become independently popular. Musicals typically deal with internal, along with relational, exploration and development – striving for innovation and new interpretations. While pop music upholds the status quo, show tunes (and the musicals from which they come) look beyond.

Rome conquered Jerusalem and destroyed its Temple. But, the Jewish people still stand today. The record industry has not yet sanded away the importance of musical theater. As theaters dot the landscapes of major cities throughout the world, one must remember they are testaments, temples, churches, of the human soul. Visser explains that a theater, like “a church stands in total opposition to the narrowing and flattening of human experience, the deviation into the trivial […] The building is trying to speak; not listening to what it has to say is a form of barbarous inattention, like admiring a musical instrument while caring nothing for the music …" (95)

[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 24 Aug 2010

The Colossus of Constantine

     The Colossus of Constantine can be found in the Musei Capitolini.  This statue was contructed during the years 312-315, and reworked in 325.  All that remains today of this once 40ft seated statue is the head and extremedies.  The surviving pieces were crafted out of marble, unlike the core which was fashioned out of brick and wood. 

     The original resting place of this statue west apse of the Basilica of Maxentius, the largest builing in the Forum Romanum.  This form of artwork was often commissioned to show the power and wealth of the patronage.  The monumental size of this statue speaks volumes as to the domination of the emperor Constantine.   

     The foot of this grand statue captivated me the most - I felt like it had personality, as well as innate detail.  The foot is a symbolic body part.  In religious circles, a naked foot means respect: Muslims remove their shoes before entering mosques, Moses approached the burning bush barefooted, and priests serving in the Tabernacle do so without shoes.  Barefeet can also be a sign of mourning (Ezekiel 24:17).  Furthermore, the foot is said to represent the soul, "as it serves to support the entire body and keep it upright." (Meij)

     Constantine, the vanguard for Christianity in the Roman Empire, may have known some of the significance of being portaryed without sandals.  But even if he didn't, the remnants of his feet do portray one of the differences between Roman and Greek art.  All Greek sculptures are freestanding and are only supported by their own two feet.  Roman sculpture, which was copied from the Greeks, always needed structural support.  Although this little fact does not directly apply with our seated Colossus of Constantine, it is interesting to note that thousands of years lates, Constantine's foot is still on solid ground.

 (http://www.absoluteastronomy.com/topics/Colossus_of_Constantine)

(Meig, http://cointrade.awardspace.com/MasonicKnowledge/Barefoot.html)

(http://www.ehow.com/list_6534342_differences-greek-roman-statues.html)

Statue of Dying St. Sebastian

Located on the Via Appia Antica is the Basilica of St. Sebastian.  This basilica is one of seven pilgrimage sites in Rome.  Here, the body of St. Sebastian is buried under a statue of him, pierced with arrows, dying.  The tomb is located under a small chapel that is set into the left wall of the basilica.  The chapel was ordered by Cardinal Scipione Borghese in the 17th century.

The statue itself is about eight feet long and three feet high, situated behind an iron gate.  It looks to be made out of all marble, which, as seen in my photo below, creates dynamic contrast with the chapel.  Antonio Giorgetti, a pupil of the acclaimed Bernini, created the statue.  The statue itself may have been made after one of Bernini's own drawings. 

The scene depicted in the statue is actually the failed martyrdom of St. Sebastian.  Diocletian ordered that Sebastian be tied to a tree and shot with arrows.  He was left for dead, but nursed back to health by another Christian.  Upon his recovery, St. Sebastian returned back to the Imperial Palace to proclaim his faith and be sentenced to death again.

St. Sebastian was known for having devout faith, which inspired conversions of those he came into contact with.  Although his faith was strong, it was kept a secret while he rose up in the ranks of the Roman army.  When he was found out, he was sentenced to death.  But, centuries laters, St. Sebastian's unwavering faith still inspires people, including the pilgrims who deepen their faith on their journey to his tomb. 

   

(http://www.filcoo.com/en/italy/tg/san_sebastiano_fuori_le_mura_guide.htm)
(http://www.romeartlover.it/Vasi59a.htm)

[325] Rome: Stories & Traditions, 23 Aug 2010

The history of Rome, according to British Journalist H.V. Morton, is both “exhilarating and oppressive for the traveler.” What ways have you found Rome exhilarating and oppressive?


I find that the most exhilarating, and equally most oppressive, part of Rome is its “fatal charm.” Authors have spent chapters trying to define this charm, and we spent a class dissecting the idea. Barzini explains the opposing forces that draw people to Rome in his book, The Italians. He writes that Rome is visitd for its spiritual, as well as its pagan significance, and that tourists flock to see ruins of the past, along with the opera stars of the future. This essential contradiction does not limit Rome, but, is its fatal charm. Man connects to Rome because this city is a manifestation of himself: opposition brought together in one space.


Rome is the site of the history of man. It seems as if there is nowhere to turn that hasn’t been conquered by guided tours of the city, or made it onto a list of “top-ten things” to see, eat, or do. After being awed by a building Mussolini built, my friends and I turn the corner and ran into Trajan’s Column. From the vantage point of this column, we could see street vendors, gelaterias, and your run-of-the-mill Colosseum. It seems as if there are no breaks for the senses. Although the proximity to the world’s history is exhilarating, the constant bombardment of dates, characters and significance is oppressive.


Take the Via Appia Antica. This road is paved with history: composed of black stones that have seen twenty-three-hundred years of traffic, and stories of ancient cultures that crop up from the funerary relics on the side of the road. I viewed all this history behind the handlebars of a rented bike. The experience of biking the Via Appia Antica portrays how quickly exhilaration becomes oppression, even on the basic physical level.

The group set out on the Via Appia Antica, stopping at various points of interest on the way. After discussing the Tomb of Cecilia Metella and the church of San Nicola, we raced down a long hill to the Basilica of St. Sebastian. The wind whipping past my face and the constant jostling, provoked by uneven stones, transported me to bliss. I felt in control and strangely independent in a group of seventeen. It wasn’t the sights that inspired my relentless smile, (in fact, I stared directly at those uneven black stones in front of me) but the feeling of motion – propelled not by time or machine, but by my own two feet.

This breathtaking feeling turned to breathless agony as the group headed back up the hill we glided down minutes before. Still focused on the path, and the new sensation of my burning quads, I felt the sting of being charmed. Everything in Rome is built on a hill. To reach the sites and taste the food that awes many a visitor to this country, one must first face the physical pain of planting their own two feet on the ground and stepping forward.


I bring my own internal opposition to this city that charms me with its contradictions. While I was biking, I was thinking about how to properly share that experience with my friends and family at home. See, I am not just here to explore Italy and myself, but to report back to the States, letting others live through me. I constantly feel the pull of experiencing Rome for me, and experiencing Rome for others. As I contemplate my ambivalence, I am also trying to figure out how each site I am seeing fits into history, and more importantly, how it fits in with me. But maybe, I am just thinking too much, because “simply letting yourself live is beautiful in Italy.” (Heine, cited by Barzini, 55)


Simplicity - that is what’s so charming about Rome. It’s not the opposition that charms us, it is the permeating sense of wholeness in spite of opposition. Ginzberg understands, “Our feelings for cities, like our feelings for people, are always rather confused […] we don’t love cities for reasons that can be enumerated [...] we love them for no reason at all.” (Smiles of Rome, 273) It’s nothing, and yet it’s everything about Rome that challenges me and inspires me.

[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 17 Aug 2010

This is Monument to Giovan Battista Gisleni, housed by the Basilica Santa Maria Popolo, in Rome.  During the 17th and 18th centuries, the rich were buried in churches, and these monuments functioned like the headstones we use today.  This particular monument was designed by Giovan Battista Gisleni himself, who was a Baroque architect, stage designer, theater directer, singer and musician.

The monument is about 2.5 feet tall, and two feet wide, and is mounted on the back wall of the basilica.  Although the skeleton looks real, it is a sculpture, possibly made out of marble, encased in a decorative iron frame.  It was one of the first things I saw when I walked into Santa Maria di Popolo, and the image stuck with me for the rest of the visit.  

This form of artwork is known as a "memento mori", which is a Latin phrase that means, "Remember you must die."  It is believed that this phrase began in Ancient Rome when the victorious Roman general was parading through the streets.  During his triumph, a slave would follow the general reminding him, "memento mori."  This concept became very popular in Medieval Europe, especially with Christianity.  Catholics have integrated this concept into Ash Wednesday celebration.  When the priest applies ashes to your forehead, he says, "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return."

Gisleni's monument not only serves as a grave marker, but as a reminder of our own mortality - a truth that is easily overlooked in a church that is adorned with the immortal images of the faith.  Or maybe, these monuments can get the faithful to look beyond this world, to the promise of eternal life.  Many homilies deal with the fleetingness of earthly pleasures, these monuments serve as a visual aid.

This is the Arch of Titus (Arco di Tito), one of only two remaining arches in the Roman Forum.  The Arch of Titus is located on the eastern end of the Forum, at the highest point of the Via Sacra.  It stands 51ft high and is made out of brick, stone and marble.  The arch was erected in 81CE to celebrate Titus' defeat and capture of Jerusalem, which ended the Jewish War.


The size of the arch itself is something the eye takes note of, but the most interesting part of the arch is inside panel which houses two reliefs.  One relief shows Titus in a chariot accompanied by the Goddess Victoria and the Goddess Roma.  Victoria, whose name implies it, is the goddess of victory.  Roma is the goddess of the city itself. 

The other relief is an image of the Roman procession up the Via Sacra with the booty from Jerusalem, especially objects for the Second Temple.  The Menorah, the silver trumpets and the Table of the Shewbread can all be seen clearly on the arch.  The Menorah, a seven-branched candelabra, was lit everyday in the Second Temple.  It has historically been a symbol of Judaism, but within the faith, the Menorah symbolizes universal enlightenment (with God as the middle candle) and creation in seven days (the middle being the Sabbath.)  The silver trumpets were used to call Jews to Roshashanah.  The Table of Shewbread is also know as the Table of Presence, and is housed inside the tabernacle.  The purpose of this table is to hold twelve cakes of bread that represented the tribes of Israel.  "Shewbread" literally means, "bread of the face", referencing that the bread is set out before the face of God.

All of these important images of Jewish culture have been entombed in the celebration of the defeat of Jerusalem.  This arch is a testament to Titus' achievement, but defeating the city did not mean he defeated the religion.  One could argue that the existence of Judaism today is a truer testament to power - these people have been depleated, but never defeated.

[325] Rome: Stories & Traditions, 16 Aug 2010

How did your morning class impact what you saw in the afternoon?

Our first class began at 8:30 am, on the patio right outside the entrance of Casa Mennesiana. We all circled around a table to discuss The Italians (Barzini) and The Smiles of Rome (Cahill). Rabbi Spitzer pointed out the introduction of Italians, where Barzini explains that he intends his portrait of Italy to be akin to an artist painting his own mother. The author hopes to tackle both the beauty and the warts of the city, but always with the impetus of deep, abounding love. I often wonder how the respect Europeans feel for their homeland did not make it to America. Maybe, as decedents of European immigrants, we are more cynical about our birthplace because it is not truly our home?


The excerpt that Rabbi pointed out from Smiles was from "In Ruins" (Woodward). Woodward says, “When we contemplate ruins, we contemplate our future.” (60) But, he says much more than that, writing that ruins can also displace us, leaving us to cope with finding that “living, we cannot fill the footprints of the dead.” (60) I like to think that the footprints of the dead and the footprints of the living are one in the same. Without research, without life after great civilizations and rulers, the footprints of the past would have been washed away with the tide. Man remembers man.


The pieces that were emphasized in class brought about interesting dialogue, but the quote that stood out most to me was not mentioned. In Italians, Barzini describes the travelers who flock to the Spanish steps and asks, “From what unnamed and unknown modern crimes and horrors are these young foreigners fleeing? What mysterious emptiness in their souls is filled merely standing on Italian soil?” (13) There is this sense of utter wholeness that I have experienced in fleeting seconds here in Italy. I feel as if the world wraps her arms around Rome in a loving embrace.

As a class we toured the Colosseum and the Forum in the afternoon.

When I looked at the ruins of the Colosseum, unlike Woodward, I did not see the future of my civilization, nor could I call up the unblemished love (or the love of blemishes) that Barzini introduces in his text.  But, Woodward did strike a chord with his quote about displacement.  Although I did not feel like the Ancient Roman civilization was damning the present with its monuments, I did feel a displacement of connection.  Here I stand in a structure that I have studied, seen photos and movies of, heard about in Sunday School ... and I am in awe of the visual, but sickened by the brutality that took place here. 

The ruins of the Roman Forum exposed the seemingly constant contradiction of Rome: decaying structures and thriving architecture.  As grass and broken stone littered the heart of the forum, a building stands in the background that was built by Julius Ceasar.  I guess it is the clash of mortality and immortality.  I loved the fact that the ground we were walking on was buried under some sixteen-feet of dirt for parts of history.  The Forum has not always been accessible, but is is alive once again.

Throughout Rome, all of the ancient columns and buildings have been stripped of their marble and metal nails, exposing the brick and stone work below.  The marble was melted down and reused to build structures by later civilizations.  With this reuse-recycle mindset, I call up Woodward's quote about the future again.  When I see the ruins of the Colosseum and the Forum, I can see the future of our civilization.  It is not our eventual demise and decay, but the link we will provide for the future.  People will take from this civilization what is valuable and leave that which serves them no purpose.  It is not a chilling fact, it is the history of man sustaining himself on earth.  Each civilzation has brought us to this point today and made it's distinct mark on man.  I think  that is why so many tourists like to return the favor by carving their names into the ancient stone of the Colosseum.