[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.