Michelangelo's Rome, 450 Years Later

What better way to celebrate Michelangelo's long life and immense body of work, than spending the 450th anniversary of his death taking a tour of his works. If you're lucky enough to be in his hometown of Florence today, you'll have even more opportunity to do so. But here in Rome, where Michelangelo lived and worked for much of his life, there's still a lot to see.

It is not often that one of an artist's earliest works becomes appreciated as one of his greatest masterpieces, but such is the case with the Pietà, sculpted in the last years of the 15th century, when Michelangelo was barely 25 years old.

Detail of the Pietà, Michelangelo, St. Peter's Basilica, Rome [source]

So much could be––and has been––said about this work, that I can't even scratch the surface in this little post, so I won't try. One curiosity is that it is the only work that Michelangelo ever signed, according to legend because he was frustrated that he was not receiving the proper recognition for the work, as he was new to Rome when he created it, and not yet well known there. He did this in secret, after the work had been completed and presented, and in fact, he was in such a hurry that he made a few mistakes! If you look closely you can see that he even misspelled his own name, leaving out a few letters and inserting them inside of others. I guess no one is perfect, although he came as close as anyone on Earth ever did, I'd wager.

Detail of the Pietà, signature, Michelangelo, St. Peter's Basilica [source]

After a stint in Florence, during which Michelangelo sculpted the David, he was back in Rome and working, against his will, on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, from 1508 to 1512. There are probably close to 7 trillion blog posts about the Sistine Chapel, so I won't bore you with another, but I will post my absolute favorite image from the ceiling. This glorious lady is the Libyan Sybil, called Phemonoe, who foretold of the "coming of the day when that which is hidden will be revealed." I have stood in the Sistine Chapel over one thousand times, and of the some three hundred figures on the ceiling, this is the one that has struck me over and over.

The Libyan Sybil, detail from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo 

[source]

Sometimes looking at a great artist's plans and sketches is more revealing that looking at the finished version. Here are Michelangelo's studies for the Libyan Sybil.

Studies for the Libyan Sybil, Michelangelo [source]

The great tragedy of Michelangelo's life was that, due to forces beyond his control, he was never given the time and space to complete the tomb of Pope Julius II, the work that he believed was going to make his career and put him on the map. He of course couldn't know that he would one day be remembered as one of the greatest––if not the greatest––artists who ever lived, and he didn't need the tomb to prove that. His only completed figure of the planned tomb is the Moses, and it is only by standing in front it that you can get a true sense of its power and majesty. It is almost unbelievable that Michelangelo made drastic changes to this work, specifically changing the positioning of the left leg.

Moses, Michelangelo, San Pietro in Vincoli church, Rome [source]

I love this whimsical drawing of what it might have been like to witness Michelangelo at work on the Moses. Somehow I doubt he would have had knights and nobles loitering around his studio while he worked, and since the work was sculpted between 1513 and 1515, this image makes the artist look a little old. But it does give you the idea of the size of the great work.

[source]

It's impossible to call any work by Michelangelo "little known," but in Rome, at least this one might come close. After delighting in Gian Lorenzo Bernini's Elefantino in the piazza outside, venture inside the glorious Gothic church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva (with its starry blue ceiling that looks something like what the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel looked like before our hero got his hands on it), to find the Risen Christ, sculpted by Michelangelo between 1519 and 1521.

The Risen Christ, Michelangelo, Santa Maria sopra Minerva church, Rome [source]

From 1536 to 1541, Michelangelo found himself back in the Sistine Chapel frescoing another colossal work of art. The Last Judgement is about as different from the chapel's ceiling as one work can be from another by the same artist. Sadly, by the 1530s, the Renaissance was over, and the Counter Reformation had come to Rome. What did that mean for art? Lots of hell and damnation to scare those naughty Protestants into coming back to the Mother Church. And it also meant that shortly after Michelangelo's death, this work would be vandalized by Daniele da Volterra (but don't blame him; he was forced to do it), who added lots of scarves and other modest coverings to some of the more scandalous figures.

The Last Judgement, Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel [source]

Don't forget that Michelangelo was not only a sculptor and a frescoist; he was an architect too. Talk about a Renaissance man! From 1536 to 1546, more or less the same period he was working on The Last Judgement, Michelangelo was also redesigning the entire Capitoline Area, reversing the orientation of the square so that it turned its back on the ancient ruins of Rome's past, and looked instead toward the Vatican, and providing the Palazzo Senatorio with a new Renaissance facade. He also designed the glorious starburst pavement in the center of the square (which I love so much that I chose it as my wedding symbol), and which was not actually laid out as Michelangelo had desired until 1940.

Piazza del Campidoglio, Michelangelo, Rome [source]

In 1547, Michelangelo began designs for the dome of St. Peter's Basilica. This would be his last major work, and for the twelve years that he worked on it, he refused to receive any payment. He realized that his life was drawing to a close, and he chose to create this masterpiece for the glory of God alone, as a kind of final offering. Although the dome was not completed until after his death, his designs were adhered to with only a few exceptions.

Dome of St. Peter's Basilica, Michelangelo [source]

Michelangelo's very last project, built between 1562 and his death in 1564, is the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri, an ingenious structure in which he created a Renaissance church out of a section of the ruins of the Roman bath complex, the Terme di Diocleziano. It is a stunning place to visit, however, some unfortunate "restorations" in 1749 by Luigi Vanvitelli take away significantly from the simple harmony of Michelangelo's design.

Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri, Michelangelo, Rome [source]

This list is not quite conclusive of the works by Michelangelo in Rome. To be exhaustive, I'd have to add Palazzo Farnese, a project Michelangelo took over after Antonio da Sangallo, the arch of Via Giulia, that was originally meant to be a private bridge across the Tiber, just for the Farnese family, to link their palace with their "country" home, Villa Farnesina, and of course the magnificent frescoes in the Pauline Chapel in the Vatican. The Pauline Chapel is, alas, not open to the public and its unlikely that it ever will be, as it is the pope's private chapel. But we can dream, right?

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Five Ways to Celebrate St. Francis’s Feast Day in Italy

The Day after Pope Francis's election, Piazza San Francesco a Ripa. ©Tiffany Parks

Since I live on a street dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi, and since I can see a church dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi right out my bedroom window, and since my darling Maritino and I were married by a Franciscan priest, and since our current ever more lovable Pope chose his papal name (many believe) to honor St. Francis of Assisi, I figured it would be a good idea to write a little post today on 4 October, on occasion of the feast day of one of Italy’s all-time best-loved saints.

Instead going into St. Francis’s life andworks, which I’m guessing most people are already familiar with, I thought I’d suggest five ways to celebrate his feast day, and five different Italian cities in which to do it.

Assisi

Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

As the saint’s hometown, this is the obvious choice. In fact, this is where Pope Francis himself decided to celebrate St. Francis’s Day, so expect a lot of crowds if you choose this option. Besides the sheer majesty of the 13th-century basilica, one of the most important fresco cycles of the great Giotto di Bondone, and in fact one of the most celebrated works of art of that magical period when the buds of medieval art began to blossom into the Renaissance. 

The Woman's Confession, Giotto. Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

The Dream of the Palace, Giotto. Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

San Francis receives the Stigmata, Giotto. Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

The 28 frescoes that line the lower section of the nave of the Basilica of San Francesco d’Assisi tell the story of the saint’s life and are believed to have been painted between 1296 and 1304. Bonus: an even earlier portrait of St. Francis, by late-medieval master Cimabue, can be seen on the transept wall. The fresco, Our Lady Enthroned with St. Francis, dates to 1280 and features one of the most well known depictions of the saint.

Our Lady Enthroned with St. Francis, Cimabue. Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

The basilica also contains the saint’s tomb.

Tomb of St. Francis of Assisi. Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi, Assisi. [source]

Florence

Basilica of Santa Trinità, Florence. [source]

If you prefer high Renaissance art to late medieval/early Renaissance crossover art, and you happen to be in Florence today, you’re in luck! Head to Santa Trinità church where you can visit the Sassetti Chapel, containing an exquisite fresco cycle by Domenico Ghirlandaio (who just happened to be Michelangelo’s first master, and one of the painters of the walls of the Sistine Chapel). The fresco, dating from 1482-1485, depict several scenes of St. Francis’s life, including the receiving of the stigmata, the confirmation of Franciscan rule, and the resurrection of a boy.

Confirmation of Franciscan Rule, Ghirlandaio. Church of Santa Trinità, Florence. [source]

St. Francis's Trial by Fire, Ghirlandaio. Church of Santa Trinità, Florence. [source]

Death of St. Francis of Assisi, Ghirlandaio. Church of Santa Trinità, Florence. [source]

Chiusi della Verna

Santuario della Verna, Chiusi della Verna. [source]

Not many tourists make it to this tiny little town in the province of Arezzo, but if you’re in the general area today, consider a visit to the Santuario della Verna, just a few miles outside of town. In addition to its evocative setting, perched on an outcropping of Mount Penna, the sanctuary is also renowned for being the site at which St. Francis received the stigmata, on 14 September 1224. You can also visit a small museum attached to the sanctuary where you can see St. Francis’ rough habit, slightly moth-eaten, but still intact.

Habit of St. Francis of Assisi, Santuario della Verna, Chiusi della Verna. [source]

Subiaco

St. Benedict's Monastery, Subiaco. [source]

This gorgeous hilltop town, famous for its medieval Benedictine monasteries, is not generally associated with St. Francis of Assisi, but there is one notable curiosity for those seeking to pay homage to the saint today. In St. Gregory’s Chapel in the Monastery of St. Benedict is only known portrait of St. Francis painted during his lifetime. The portrait shows neither halo nor stigmata, showing it was indeed painted before the saint’s death in 1226. If you want an idea of what he actually looked like, this is probably as close as you’ll come.

Portrait of St. Francis of Assisi, St. Gregory's Chapel, St. Benedict's Monastery, Subiaco. [source]

Rome

Church of San Francesco a Ripa, Rome. ©Tiffany Parks

 

If you’re in the Eternal City today, never fear! You don’t have to travel anywhere if you want to make a St. Francis pilgrimage of your own. The church of San Francesco a Ripa in Trastevere is attached to a convent that housed St. Francis when he was in Rome in 1209 seeking recognition of his order by Pope Innocent III. If you ask the custodian nicely (and if your shoulders and knees are modestly covered!) he’ll happily take you up to the very cell St. Francis slept in, complete with the very stone he used for a pillow, which visitors are allowed to touch.

The rock St. Francis used as a pillow, Cell of St. Francis of Assisi, Church of San Francesco a Ripa, Rome. [source]

While you visit the church (which by the way also contains Bernini’s late masterpiece The Ecstasy of the Beata Ludovica Albertoni), take a moment to wallow bitterly in the knowledge that this unassuming little trasteverina church once contained, along the walls of the nave, the prototype of the legendary Giotto cycle in Assisi. The frescoes depicting scenes from the life of St. Francis, attributed to Pietro Cavallini, are sadly now lost. “Now lost”: two words that inspire the wrenching of hearts and gnashing of teeth of many an art lover.

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La Festa de' Noantri, the festival of the Trasteverini

Festa de' Noantri procession, 1950s [source]

 

I remember that morning like it was yesterday: a bright mid-summer dawn, just weeks after moving into my dream Trastevere apartment. In a haze of grogginess and not enough sleep, I hear a booming, nasal voice. It's Sunday and seems impossibly early for whatever is happening, especially as it's happening right outside my bedroom window. 


I bury my head in my pillow as I hear a monotone voice bleating out of a loudspeaker. Yes, a loudspeaker. A half-blind glance at my phone shows it’s not even 7am. "...Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori..."

Madre di Dio, what the...?

This I had to see. I flop out of bed and stumble over to the window. "Ave Maria, piena di grazia..." the voice drones on. Opening the shutters, I peer below.

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010, Crazy o'clock AM

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

A procession, a full-on religious procession, was trundling past my window. There were priests, altar boys, a smattering of older ladies in somber dress. They were all doing a call-and-repeat version of the Ave Maria that I have since become much more familiar with. Oh, and they were carrying a gigantic statue of the Virgin Mary on their shoulders. One thing I have learned living in Italy is that Italians love the Virgin Mary. I mean, they love her more than Jesus. Or so it seemed to my then-non-Catholic self. I had almost literally stumbled upon the Festa de’ Noantri.

The pictures I've included here were not, of course, taken that morning, but four years later, when I was sadly packing up to leave that very same apartment and knew I was going to miss everything about it (besides the landlord).  Little did I know then that my new apartment would be on the self-same procession route. It’s actually not so improbable; the Festa de’ Noantri procession goes down practically every street in Trastevere.

For a little bit of historical background (and a break from my nonsensical reminiscing), the festival dates back to 1535 when, after a storm, a cedar statue of the Madonna was fished out of the Tiber (on the Trastevere side, let it be noted!). Exactly where the statue came from is still a mystery, but where it ended up is not. It was donated to the order of the Carmelites, and hence it became known as the Madonna del Carmine (although many still refer to it as the Madonna della Fiumarola, since it was found in the river). The statue was kept in San Crisogono, an ancient church in Piazza Sonnino, and was immediately considered the protectress of the trasteverini. The statue was eventually transferred to the unassuming church of Sant’Agata, right across the square.

Every July, the first Saturday after the 16^th to be precise, a major 8-day festival takes place in my beloved neighborhood to celebrate this “miraculous” statue (if you can consider a statue be fished out of a river a miracle). The original statue stays put in Sant’Agata (these days she’s too precious to move about), but a 19^th-century polychrome wooden copy is carried about to much fanfare and jubilation (and yes, they change her outfit every year). 

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2012

After a goodly number of masses and benediction ceremonies, she is carried in solemn procession from Sant’Agata to the original statue’s first home, San Crisogono. But don’t think they just walk her across the square. That would be too easy. No, she is carried down Via della Lungaretta, Via della Luce and into Piazza San Francesco d’Assisi (where another celebration takes place), down Via San Francesco a Ripa, Via Natale del Grande, Via Roma Libera, and many more streets in Trastevere, until she is finally deposited at San Crisogono, where she stays for the duration of the festival.

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

My friend Jill watching the procession from across the street

Then the partying begins: street concerts of traditional music (cue: Roma,nun fa’ la stupida sta sera), old folks literally dancing in the streets, stall selling porchetta in Piazza Sonnino, bersaglieri playing their trumpets while they run (seriously impressive), and endless shouts of “Evviva Maria!” to be heard at any time of day or night. At the end of the festival, the pièce de resistance is when hundreds of people line the river or stand on the bridges to watch the Madonna float down the Tiber on a boat at sunset, from Ponte Sant’Angelo to Ponte Garibaldi.

Madonna della Fiumarola, Ponte Garibaldi, 2012

Madonna della Fiumarola, Isola Tiberina, 2012

So why is it called the Festa “de’ Noantri”? The word Noantri is a dialectical version of “noi altri” (us others). This was a way the residents of Trastevere voiced their indignation at the phrase, “voi altri che abitate in altri quartieri” (you others who live in other neighborhoods), with which they were referenced by the Roman populace. They were considered 2^nd-class citizens because they lived on the wrong side of the tracks Tiber. 

I feel very differently about the Festa de' Noantri these days, and that has less to do with the fact that I'm a Catholic convert (that's a story for another post), and more to do with the fact that the procession no longer wakes me up on Sunday mornings. It still passes under my bedroom window (although I now live in a different apartment on a different street), but it does so around 7 o’clock on Saturday night instead of 7 o’clock on Sunday morning, and that makes all the difference. In fact, I’ve come to love this festival. I’m now in my 8^th year of witnessing it on my very street and it literally never gets old.

Festa de' Noantri, Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, 2012

If you happen to be in Trastevere tonight (Wed, 24 July 2013), get over to Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, stat! A brass band is playing as I write this, and who knows? Maybe the bersaglieri will show up with their fantastic feathered hats? I know I’ll be watching from my window.



Visit the festival's official site for a program of processions and events. 

All photos (except first) by author.

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San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, or When the inspired outshines the inspiration

No answers? No guesses? No comments whatsoever??

This either means my question was too hard, or no one reads this blog. (I suspect it's a combination of both.)

Ok, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I'm sure some of you couldn't sleep last night, going through a mental catalogue of every work of art, church, building and monument in the city, desperately trying to discover the work that was inspired by the brilliant mosaic ceiling of Constantia's gorgeous mausoleum. I'm heartless, I know. So here it is.

The dome of Borromini's masterpiece, San Carlo alle Quattro Fonatane. Let's take a look at both side by side.

The same interlocking crosses, hexagons and octogons grace this oblong dome designed by the greatest Baroque architect who ever lived, and the similarity cannot be a coincidence. I like to imagine the tortured and solitary Borromini visiting the Mausoleum of Constantia and being inspired by such a small and for most probably unnoticeable detail to create the dome of arguably one of the most beautiful churches in Rome (and at over 800 that's saying quite a lot).

But Borromini took this motif and made it his own, coffered instead of mosaic, stark white instead of multi-colored, and a shallow dome instead of barrel-vaulting. A rare example of Baroque art being inspired by early Medieval art. Not surprisingly, the design of Borromini's dome is famous, and the inspiration sadly obscure.

Borromini's San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane ("at the four fountains", named for the fountains adorning each corner of the intersection right outside) has been nicknamed San Carlino for its tiny size. With convex and concave surfaces at every turn, columns placed at oblique angles to the altars and not a straight line in sight, the entire church seems to undulate. This sense of movement is one of the characteristics that came to define Baroque architecture, at which Borromini was head and shoulders above his contemporaries including his rival and nemesis, the ever-popular Gianlorenzo Bernini, who should have stuck to sculpting. For proof of this, visit Bernini's painfully inferior Sant'Andrea al Quirinale just down the street. (In my humble opionion, of course.)

Now, not to go on and on about my wedding (I'll do that later...), the thought of this church crossed my mind as well during the early days of planning. Tiny and intimate, just what I wanted. Achingly beautiful, a true jewel of a church, dare I say it, perfection? Only two tiny problems: my dress was a rich ivory and the chruch is blindingly white. The bride mustn't clash with the church, no? (Okay, I'm joking. I didn't actually think about this at the time.) But more importantly, the church, as glorious and serene as it is on the inside, opens up right onto a busy intersection which would hamper rice throwing quite drastically.

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