photo credit TTT

Siena and Rome

When faced with the question of Siena’s unique identity, I am tempted too soon to characterize a place with its monuments. I could also talk about topography and urban fabric, how there are three hills with buildings concentrated on the tops and mainly open space in the valleys. I could also make the distinction of Siena’s small scale compared to a city like Rome, and its curving roads that follow the hills, as opposed to Sixtus V’s straight streets. I might say a few words about Siena’s history, culture, and character, if I could.

I can only truly speak about my experience in Siena. There was a moment in our walk when we caught a glimpse of Orto de’ Pecci. To see the sprawl of churches and homes on the hilltops with a valley of green between them moved me deeply. We climbed up the hill and came to a fountain that caught the sun in just the right way. We walked higher and stood above the valley, where I think I was ready to fly away.

There was such a peace and freedom to that experience in Siena that is different from the familiar chaos of Rome. This peace, resulting from all of Siena’s pieces, has not found me anywhere else in Italy.

After a Google search on Rome’s cloisters, I came across this quote about San Pietro in Vincoli’s 15^th century cloister: “This is a great example of how to ruin a cloister: what started out as four handsome Renaissance arcades have since been taken over by the Engineering School” (initaly.com).

I would argue that the university (Facolta di Ingegneria, Sapienza) has not ruined the cloister but, instead, has added to its meaning. In 1870, the university took over the 15^th century convent’s cloister as a gathering place for students. The cloister is still a place for meditation, interaction, walking, and learning, but social interaction has changed dramatically. Students hang banners and posters within the cloister to protest the budget cuts. Tents have been set up support the cause as well.

The translation of the cloister from a sacred space to a university square is successful because of its performative value. The cloister operates in a new way, existing in its original form but adapted for a new purpose. The spirit of contemplation and enlightenment continues but is now taken a step further towards action.

we’ve been taken captive

Over the weekend I visited the Duomo di Santa Maria Assunta and the Battistero di San Giovanni in Pisa. The baptismal font and pulpit are roped off in the center, leaving tourists no choice but to stand around the edges passively taking photos.

Then one of the museum workers went into the center of the baptistery and began to sing. At this moment the space resonated with a new energy, bringing life to its unused and empty shell. Activating a place through participation allows the building to perform, to recall its intentions and bring out its inherent capabilities.

The man who activated the building was not baptizing anyone, as the initial program planned. His singing birthed 50 seconds of a new history, active through engagement instead of static removal. History is made active in the inactive baptistery when someone chose to activate (if only for a moment) the acoustic qualities already existing, but previously ignored.

Note: I found out an employee does this every 30 minutes to show off the acoustics in the baptistery. However, I cannot deny that the experience moved me. I’ve been waiting for churches to come alive with singing.

The imaginary Sanctus Anriva (Castel Sant’Angelo) of Project 2 was constructed in one phase. The narrative of this imaginary building tells of a religious society desiring to protect their one sacred text with a sanctuary, surrounded by a fortress, surrounded by a garden. I tried to rationalize this single construction phase theory when this map tells me otherwise.

Hadrian’s Mausoleum, as depicted in Lanciani’s Forma Urbis Romae, was built in stages. The black layer shows the ancient mausoleum as a square plan with a thin square wall around it and the bridge leading to Rome’s center. The red layer is the modern city layer with two sets of bastions and barracks added to it; the first set are the four bastions added to the mausoleum’s corner, the second set are the five triangular bastions farther away from the center. Also in this modern city layer, a star –shaped border is constructed around the site with an aqueduct moving water between this border and the bastions.

Lanciani’s map layers ancient Rome, modern Rome, and contemporary Rome into one image. The map provides plans of ancient buildings, helping us understand what the city was like before and what ruins remain. The modern city layer is fascinating because it shows the additions that were made to ancient buildings. This map of layering allows us to see how the construction periods influence each other to eventually create the places I experience now.

. . . or Mr. Joel Piazza?

capri - sorrento

Distance

Between the island of Capri and the Italian Peninsula are vertical cliffs cutting into the sea, ferries to the ports of seaside towns, the invisible land beneath the water’s surface, and volumes of the salty Mediterranean. In this journey, the elements between are simple and unmistakable: water, sky, and boat. The pieces are stretched along the course, burdened by unchanging scenes duplicated from end to end. Community on the ferry is sparse, everyone seems content just waiting.

ercolano - excavation site wall

Time

The archeological site of Herculaneum sits in a hole while the new city bustles above and around it. A light fence, steep rock walls, and centuries of history separate the two with broken ties for integration. The new city piles over the ancient, with an uncanny resemblance to functions of past lives. They are not so different but one is wasting away, struggling to breathe the new air. The people look in from outside, look out from inside, and no one exists between.