High Art

So...did you go to any museums in Rome?

Well, strictly speaking, except for the Vatican Museums...no. No need to, not when you've got Bernini in the churches.

(Although I was sort of hoping, somehow, to squeeze in the Capitoline, but no. Didn't work.)

For our art, we stuck with the churches, which of course, are museums - but, we hope, not museums. Although certain pieces attract the connosseur who probably has scant interest in the spirituality and religiosity expressed therein (although I find it hard to imagine how one could appreciate the aesthetics of a religiously-themed piece without being even a little bit interested in what inspired it), they remain in these churches, these places where people come, not just to see and study, but to let the works, individually and together, shape their response to God.

So, going into St. Peter's in Chains, a rather sizeable crowd mills about Moses. A tour guide explains things in soft German to his group, which murmurs in assent of what he tells them. They come and go, and glance at everything else, but the attraction is Moses. And in the chapel just across the church, since it is Saturday evening, another, smaller group is gathered, and a different voice speaks - this one in Italian..ciò è il mio corpo and eventually the group he leads murmurs in assent as well.

As spectacular as the art is, it is the smaller group that draws me, that seems to almost demand my attention and even my presence. I keep looking back and forth between the two groups, wondering about the relative power of what has drawn them here, watching as the tourists studiously ignore the group in the corner, almost, it seems, embarassed by them.

It was the same with Teresa in Ecstasy, the Madonna of Loretto and the Calling of St. Matthew. Before every one of these, well-dressed art pilgrims gathered and were instructed as to their composition and importance. Entering a church with one of these pieces, one need only follow the crowds to find them, and then let them keep inserting the 50-cent pieces in the light machines, so you don't have to. (And do go equipped with these coins - or 1 Euro pieces - when visiting these churches. The more famous pieces are not lit as a matter of course, so you have to put money in to keep the light burning for a minute or so.)

They are gorgeous pieces, all, and worthy of all the learned commentary they draw. But that's not why they were on my "Must see" list - I wanted to see these pieces in their context and let myself be spiritually nurtured, tested, challenged and played by them. The Madonna holding her very large baby, as humble as the peasants at her door, turned slightly away, slightly toward them, unsure, perhaps of what they want or what she should do with the baby they have come to see.  Matthew surprised, and perhaps even a bit unwilling, as most of us are, when the call comes, with, as Caravaggio places it in the form of the window panes, the Cross in sight.

And then Teresa, being watched, in what I wonder is a sly comment by Bernini on precisely the relationship I'm contemplating, between art, spirit, observation and participation, by Cardinals and others from the side. They sit in witness, as we do, to the ecstasy of the moment and the perfection of its expression, but they do, indeed, simply sit and discuss amongst themselves, just as those beyond the chapel rail do in the flesh, pointing and marveling, perhaps even reading the excerpts from the Life that are helpfully provided in cards in front of the work...but at how much distance? We could turn around in S. Maria della Vittoria and find ourselves in the Real Presence who pierced her heart with love.

Where am I then? Am I still just watching? Or am I stepping closer, with the pilgrims come to the Virgin, with Matthew, answering the call, or even yearning for even a glimpse of what I can so easily just observe in the words and depiction of the body blow of Divine Love?

And the tour groups shuffle off, past the candle in front of the gold box in the front, casting a backwards glance at that other side of the church, thinking that next time we should plan better, so we can enjoy the art without the intrusion of that other group in the corner, mumbling and shuffling forward, hands outstretched. Pilgrims used to do that once. We know. We saw it in a painting. A couple of churches ago. Somewhere.

Comments

[Katherine]

There is no comparison for seeing mass or attending prayers at one of these places, if you are Catholic or Christian.

But some people who are not feel that it is inappropriate to treat someone else's religious service as part of their tourist experience--the duomo in Florence actively discouraged tourists from attending mass IIRC. And I was quasi-Catholic then, whereas now I'm not at all.

If tourists happen to walk in on one, they may feel that staying away and not staring is a way of being as courteous and unobtrusive as possible. (Of course, if you're really trying not to intrude it's much better simply not to visit during prayer services but the timing can be unpredictable and there are an awful lot of steps up to San Pietro in Vincole).

That said, I like museums, but there is no comparison with seeing this art in a Church. The Giotto frescoes in Santa Croce in Florence, Michaelangelo's Moses, Titian's assumption in Venice...no comparison. And I like to sit in the sanctuary if I am not interrupting or tagging-along to a service. And I'm not averse to attending services as an educational thing, but how many tourists who don't take communion does an already-packed Church want?

[Katherine]

Or to put in another way: I think it's much more likely that the art-appreciation group saw themselves as intruding on the worshippers religious service, not the worshippers as intruding on their art history lesson. I have been in that exact situation and that's certainly how I feel. If I hang back or leave it's not: "ewww, Christians"; it's: "this is really their Church, I should be as unobstrusive as possible or visit when I'm not interrupting."

[Beth]

It's a meditation, Katherine, not an analysis. A meditation on the divided spirits we all bring to such moments. Do we let ourselves be affected by the art and its depth or do we just observe from comfortable spaces?

Thanks.

[Bender]

Regarding those German tour guides -- how many languages did you find yourself speaking?

When I went, I ended up speaking five (seven if you count the Greek and Hebrew words in the Mass) -- English, of course, and bits of Italian, Latin, French, and German. (Who'd have thunk I'd remember words from Junior High French and High School German class??)

Of course, whenever I would attempt to ask a question in Italian, using the handful of words I learned, they would respond with a whole long speech in incomprehensible Italian, requiring me to ask sheepishly "parla inglese, per favore."

[dilys]

...A haunting short essay by a writer!

[LadyHatton]

"They come and go...but the attraction is Moses". Love the Eliot reference. Thank you for sharing your Rome experience with us. I do feel as if I'd been there, and can't wait to go back!

[thomps]

I find it interesting that so many well-educated secular people approach "art" with the same reverence as religious people do their faith and the relics/art associated with their faith. The secular folks or tourists glorify the artist and put him or her on a pedestal and in essence worship the artist and the work of art. In fact, I can take this analogy even farther in that they have made art a religion in itself (whether or not it's religious or anti-religious); the imporatant thing is that it is "ART." They can divorce themselves from the fact much of this art was inspired by a religious source and that many of the artists were quite devout. Amy blogged about Margaret Visser's book The Geometry of Love so I got a copy and read it. Somewhere in the beginning Visser states something along the lines of that people tell her she can't be a good or honest art/architecture critic because she is a believer. Quite frankly, I think a believer comes off as a more honest critic because of the emotions the art inspires in the believer. Hopefully the believer actually is on the receiving end of an emotion or reaction to the work of art that the artist had originally intended,

[Cheryl]

Still waiting patiently for your Scavi "review"...

No pressure! :-)

[David Kubiak]

Next trip do go to the Galleria Borghese, which has been splendidly restored. The great Bernini Apollo and Daphne is there, and one of my very favorites, the statue of Pauline Bonaparte by Canova. Georgina Mason's book has a good description of the place, which after many years once again corresponds to reality.

[dick]

Thank you Amy, for writing these pieces. Indeed, you take us there!

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