6/1 Campidoglio

Known as the Capitoline Hill in other areas of the world, the Campidoglio dates back much farther than its redesign by Michelangelo in 1536. Located in an area between two ancient temples (one of which was the Temple to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, the other being the Temple to Juno Moneta) known as the Asylum, the Campidoglio had been the area where in ancient times Romulus invited all the Latin and Sabine tribes during the formation of the city. It is also the home of the record-keeping building of Rome known as the Tabularium, the building which is on axis with the entry stairway today. Before its redesign in the Middle Ages, the area was in much visual disarray, as the buildings which had previously occupied the space were arranged in a haphazard way, similar to most of the building arrangement schemes in that time period. The Medieval world was more or less a building-by-accretion phase, where much of the construction was done by individual land-owning lords – a microcosm of the condition Italy was in during that time as well, much of what is currently Italy being divided up into smaller city-state-like divisions. During the Renaissance when much of the focus was on piecing back together the ancient world and recreating the glory of past days, this area of Rome became a major focus of reconstruction because of its location and importance to the heart of the city. Michelangelo was tasked to redesign the area, and the objectives he sought to accomplish were the following:

1. Organize the façade and elevation of the Palazzo del Senatore

2. Clear out all of the useless buildings on the site

3. Reconstruct the Palazzo de Conservatori

4. Build a new palace in the Capitoline Museum in order to balance out the axis of the site

5. Construct a new stairway up to the Piazza

6. Place the statue of Marcus Aurelius in the center as a focal point

What he set out to do, Michelangelo accomplished with a masterful architectural touch. The entire ground plane of the piazza is designed such that 1) the buildings will be raised on a slight plinth to give them more importance and 2) the water will slope away from the central statue and away from the buildings as well. Because the site was trapezoidal in shape, a bulging oval needed to be placed around Marcus Aurelius instead of the typical Renaissance circle. In Modern architecture, we tend to think of the ground plane as something absent or unnecessary from the design of the building, as if it were floating above some surface that was a mere presentation element instead of something to be fully integrated into the design. Why have we moved away from designing the ground plane as such? This answer is extremely complex and can’t be dissected within a matter of paragraphs. The important aspect to focus on here is how well THIS design was executed, and since it has been placed in the canon of outdoor space designs, how should we attempt to get back to this quality of workmanship so that all of our outdoor spaces can be as pleasant, and proportionately pleasing to the eye as this one.

To speak of the quality of this outdoor space is to also talk about the statue of Marcus Aurelius, positioned rightly in the center of the piazza and facing northwest away from the Forum and the Coliseum and toward the people of Rome. This may seem to contradict some notion of Imperial power, as one would think that the statue should be facing toward the Forum, which would therefore connect Marcus to the political history of Rome. Instead, Michelangelo chose to face the statue in the opposite direction, a move which I think represents the fact that he was an extremely popular emperor with the people, which reinforces that relationship. We also have another example in the Marcus Aurelius statue of one aspect of Rome which permeates many other societies and cultures. Virtually all of the statues in modern times that we see with a heroic man sitting on a horse have derived themselves from this particular work of art. Of course each successive government/political body wants their heroes to be represented as fearless and intrepid conquerors of some past evil, and the statue at the Campidoglio perfectly represents these ideals. Of course it is fortunate to have survived this long, because if the inhabitants of Rome after its fall had realized who was atop the horse instead of mistaking it for Constantine, it probably would have been melted down and destroyed along with countless other fragments of the past.

It is quite amazing what has survived to this day and what has not. The countless volumes of books, statues, carvings, paintings, mosaics, etc. that have been destroyed or lost probably far outweigh those that have survived. To think that a building like the Pantheon has stood the test of time but others are in ruins is remarkable; to think that Vitruvius’ Ten Book on Architecture have survived while other historical treatises from famous writers have not is startling. We have tried over the years to piece back together the flotsam and jetsam remaining from the ancient world back together, and what has survived has given us a picture of ancient Rome which we currently all accept. But what if more of it had survived? What if all of it survived completely intact? Would we have the same picture of Rome as we do today? If some important historical text that told us about ancient Rome had survived, would it have changed our view of these ancient people? My guess is yes, because as archaeology is a branch of scientific endeavor, the result of discovering new evidence about a particular subject forces us to change our minds about something. When a new detail emerges about the ancient world, we alter the image we have to fit what actually occurred, not just what we have conjectured. I suppose that we will continue to uncover new secrets about the ancient world. I hope that a clearer picture emerges from the rubble of the past, because the only ways we can determine what happened is through the written and material records.

Location: Piazza del Popolo

The plan that Pope Sixtus V used to organize Rome’s 7 pilgrimage churches starting in 1585 through a series of connecting streets and obelisks is no more evident than in the Piazza del Popolo, located to the north of the city just inside the ancient Aurelian Wall. Sixtus is considered by many to be the forefather of urban design, as the implementation of the streets (as lines) and obelisks (as points) was inherent to his vision of recreating Rome as a center for travelers to both visit and find their way easily around the city. For at least 300 years, the influence that this plan had on other cities across Europe and the United States was profound. Paris, Washington DC, London, Vienna, St. Petersburg, and Versailles all take cues directly from this plan and incorporate it into their cities. The Piazza’s 3 main features are its radiating streets (Via del Corso, Via Babuino, and Via Ripeta), its red granite obelisk (brought here by Augustus Caesar and 1 of 4 set up by Sixtus) placed in a most conspicuous location, and the two “twin” churches (Santa Maria di Montesanto and Santa Maria de’Miracoli) that are placed at the space created by the streets as they exit the piazza. I put the word twin in quotation marks simply because there are subtle differences between the two structures. Each of the church’s bell towers that face one another are completely different, as well as some of the cornice work and exterior inscriptions. I also found it strange to have two churches at this point of a city. They seem to be more like place markers, like the obelisk, than a focal point that receives pilgrims. In Medieval times the church would be the absolute focus of a town or city, with parvis in front to denote that this building is the one that principal ecclesiastical structure. However, if you entered the city from the northern gate after these churches were built, which church would you go to? Perhaps it wasn’t the point of their construction to tell pilgrims that you should go to this church or the other. Perhaps these twin churches serve as a kind of sign or billboard announcing to visitors “we are Christian and welcome to Rome” or something to that effect.

The obelisk’s position allows anyone who stands at its base and looks down the three streets to see completely to the end of each without anything interrupting visually. I would have to say that out of all of the places we have visited so far, this is my favorite “view”. You can look all the way down each of the three streets and the visage is both startling and amazing at the same time. It’s almost as if the view was created from some kind of 360 degree perspective and flatted out in front of you. It’s hard to explain the feeling that you get when you first see this viewpoint, and to explain it to others because it is one of the most unique views in all of the world. The piazza itself is oval in shape and feels a bit too large. However, this must have been the case because it was rather empty when we arrived. I’m sure that if more people were in the square it would have felt appropriate in size. The strange thing is that there aren’t too many vendors, street performers, shops, or market places to be seen in the piazza. Usually in places like the Piazza Navona (which we went to a few days ago but haven’t discussed in my field notes yet) is replete with street vendors and feels more appropriately scaled. The Piazza del Popolo, however, might have been served better if it were a bit smaller. Nonetheless, I found the view again to be spectacular.

Located just to the left of the entry gate at the Piazza is Santa Maria del Popolo, a Renaissance church completed and updated by Bernini in the 17^th century. What I found notable about this church were the two Cravaggio paintings located inside at the Cerasi Chapel. The Crucifixion of St. Peter and the Conversion of St. Paul were two of the paintings that I anticipated seeing the most. Caravaggio was really a man ahead of his time: he employed strong diagonals, dramatic lighting, figures in positions Europe had never seen before, and an anti-Renaissance style that was both beloved because of the Counter Reformation during that time and hated because they represented themes that had been touched on before but were now represented in a completely different way. It seems that most good art, if you could say such a thing, almost has to be hated at first in order to be loved. People more often than not hate to change. They want their religion brought to them in a certain way. They want their paintings to represent figures they know in a way they are comfortable with. Nevertheless, in order to change a perceived evil in society, one has to take risks, whether it be in the arts, sciences, architecture, writing, etc. Caravaggio ushered in, along with others, a Baroque style of painting that twisted around conventional themes and tried to present them to an audience that was ready for a change. Sometimes these movements happen underground and are eventually brought into the mainstream. Be that as it may, I believe what he was trying to achieve here was groundbreaking in its own right; a work of art which would try to speak to some people in a way they had never thought of before. That’s what all of these sweeping, broad periods in art and architecture are with their own distinct names and styles. They’re reactionary to the period beforehand; an attempt to do something different not simply for the sake of it but for the perceived good of society as a whole.

5/31 Vatican City

Although no notes were taken on this day, it is important to mention that this day was Vatican City Day.

Even though my religious preferences are not in line with the Catholic traditions, I still found myself anticipating this day unlike any other we had experienced yet on this trip, for the reason that we were able to go UNDERNEATH St. Peter’s Cathedral. Apparently, only 30 people per DAY only get to experience the necropolis underneath, and permission needs to be granted 6 months in advance. As well, the entrance is defended by the Swiss Guard (who protects the Pope) which should tell you about the importance and sacredness of this space. Underneath St. Peter’s is the Vatican Necropolis, where members of the wealthier families from around Rome would bury their dead. Ages range from young children to adults to the elderly, and various-sized sarcophagi have been constructed to fit the needs of these spaces. Also buried down there (but on a different level) are most of the Popes which have presided over the Vatican. Excavations began here in the 1940’s, while Rome was under the rule of Benito Mussolini, probably as part of a propaganda campaign that would attempt to tie his Fascist rule to that of ancient Rome, giving the Italian state the continuity it required to maintain control over the population. What I found amazing about the structure is that it’s supporting all of St. Peter’s Cathedral on what looks to be fairly meager foundations. Although modern construction techniques have allowed us to stabilize this extremely valuable area, and the area which it occupies is directly underneath the Baldacchino with the dome further above taking its weight and distributing it evenly over a large surface area, I am nevertheless surprised at the seemingly unsubstantial substrate layer. One other feature which brings many flocks of tourists to this underground city is the supposed spot of St. Peter’s bones. While it may be a subject of contention for a few, it is undoubtedly the exact resting spot of the 1^st Pope of Christianity. Peering through a small crack in a wall, one can see the area where it is thought to contain his bones, but no bones are actually visible. Nonetheless this is one experience that not many people get to have, and I am grateful for it.

Prior to this adventure below St. Peter’s, we all stood in line with the other hordes of tourists to get into the Vatican Museum, home of the Sistine Chapel. While the museum holds hallway after room after hallway of every type of bust, statue, painting, tapestry, and mosaic from the ancient world, everything seemed to be a prelude to the main event, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. I did find the build-up to the chapel quite enjoyable, as around every turn you were confronted with another room filled with ancient relics and a sign saying “Sistine Chapel à”. One piece of art which I was a fan of and did not expect to find here was the School of Athens by Raphael. Some of the members of our group said they could not locate it, and it was more along the lines of stumbling upon it rather than actively seeking it out, since the maze of rooms and hallways made it nearly impossible to search for a particular work of art. Finally arriving at the Sistine Chapel felt like a real occasion, as if I had entered a room with much weight and history behind it. I constantly was reminded from the guard, however, not to take pictures and to be quiet, which led to the feeling to being scolded by a grown-up. Nevertheless I admired the work of Michelangelo for as long as I could, because if it had taken this long to get here, I was going to enjoy it. The quality of his work and the way he represents the projecting cornices in perspective is quite a sight to see. Each figure that sits between the pediment sections near the top of the wall is positioned between the two cornices, and is meant to be viewed in pairs as such. All of the shadows are represented correctly, as if the room had one imaginary light source. The people are represented in Michelangelo’s typical bulky, muscular Mannerist style, naked and innocent. It’s strange, however, to look at these groups of figures along the top of the wall in a different pattern. If one were to look at the projecting cornices in pairs on either side of the pediments, neglecting the figures, the perspective changes and becomes wildly distorted. I suspect that in order to counteract people viewing the Chapel in this way Michelangelo painted the sections above the pediments darker and the sections with the seated figures with the correct perspective lighter; a subtle but important trick to prevent any visual discomfort.

In any case, I can honestly say that up until this point it has been an absolute privilege to be part of this trip and to be experiencing these places and spaces. Not many people in the world have the means to go on an excursion such as this, or they’re in such dire straits of basic human needs that a trip to Italy would seem preposterous given their current circumstances. I have an extra feeling of gratitude toward this trip as well because of the scholarship I received from Georgia Tech. I was given the opportunity to be awarded the Robert Daniel Betzel Memorial Scholarship, one that typically goes to a student who participates in the Paris program. Because this program had been suspended for this year (and possibly indefinitely), I was chosen among the Italy/Greece participants and to hear of the origin of the scholarship put this trip into a more humbling life experience. Robert was a student at Georgia Tech in the early 90’s, engaged, and by all accounts was a tremendous student. He was finishing up his graduate studies when he was unfortunately killed in a car accident before he could graduate. On his behalf, Georgia Tech set up a scholarship that for the past 20 years has honored a student studying abroad. I feel honored to be a part of this tradition and am trying my best to produce a quality end product in honor of Robert.

Continuing on a day of highlights, the inside of St. Peter’s was next up. For a person who is a fan of “tall” spaces, those where you can just lean your head back and say “wow!” St. Peter’s is one of the pinnacles of architectural expression in this regard. Every aspect of it is blown up in scale, double even triple the size of normal churches. While I tend to prefer those churches whose focus is more on complex geometries, I can appreciate St. Peter’s for what it is: a representative for all of Christianity, an enormously welcoming church which welcomes hordes of tourists throughout the years, and is a bastion for Catholic beliefs and their particular way of life. Stylistically, it has Roman roots: its arches, pendentives, domes, and overall geometries can all be derived from this source. On such a grand scale, however, these elements wipe away all of the church’s sense of directionality and procession, and leave you staring up at the ceiling with your mouth agape. The most important lesson I learned from this day at the Vatican was that if you’re intending for your audience to feel a sense of religious awe, you want your structure to physically make them feel that way simultaneously.

5/30 Aventine Hill

Today we started our discussion today on top of the Aventine Hill overlooking the city of Rome with is myriad of domes populating the skyline. It has gained a certain amount of wealth and notoriety over the years, and is also home to one of the churches on our journey, Santa Sabina. Built in the 5^th century, its form suggests a very early transition from the basilica-as-law-court to basilica-as-church. It is an archetypical basilica form that would come to be the dominant expression of ecclesiastical structures for years to come.

The long rectangular nave is divided into three separate spaces with two rows of fluted Corinthian columns. This rhythm of columns/arches is further reinforced with a row of clerestory windows that follows the same spacing and pattern. At the end of the nave, the altar has taken the place of where the Roman magistrates would have sat in preparation for judgments to be handed out. Finally, the archway that separates the nave from the altar starts to take the form of a triumphal arch, where images of important figures of the time are placed to visually notify the people of who this church was dedicated to (words were sparingly used during the Middle Ages because the literacy rate was extremely poor). The previous three sentences I have just written can be repeated over and over describing any number of churches that we will see on this trip. The Christians, it seems, took a page from the efficiency and duplication by which Romans created their cities. The Roman conception of town creation was well-organized, repeatable, and proficient. Likewise with the form of the church which will be recurring, the Christians somewhat took on this mindset and continually used this form as a way of denoting their religious beliefs and intent to the people. It seems as though this would be an effective strategy, as the continual repetition of a form would suggest to the masses a permanence and stability within the religion.

Of course, while the form remains somewhat the same over the centuries, the execution, decoration, and structure will inevitably morph due to changes in taste, fluctuations in the political and religious leanings of the people, new construction methods (and the loss of some others), etc. One change that is immediately evident from the Pagan/Roman/Greek world to that of Christianity is of the commandments that the people received. In the Pagan world, people were seen as essentially on their own. The gods tended not to directly order the people to act in a certain way, they were left to their own devices; there was no written dogma nor any prescribed rules to follow. The Christians, on the other hand, saw the human condition as one which had fallen away from God’s graces and needed commandments in order to be holy and worthy of His praise.

One other notable feature of this church is its doors, which are original and date back to around 400AD. Ornately carved and depicting one of the first images of Jesus on a cross (depictions of people on a cross were usually reserved for enemies of the state), it is remarkable to me how these doors have survived for one and a half millennia. Many of the buildings we have visited are absent of some of their most revered objects and elements, as a fair amount of plundering went on in Rome after it was sacked in the 5^th century. Statues, paintings, carvings, mosaics, etc. were all taken from various structures around Rome and repurposed for their own new use. Even here at Santa Sabina the columns used to separate the nave from the side aisles are from a different church. The process by which this happens is called spolia (or more correctly, the columns are spolia if used as a noun). In either case we will unfortunately see instances of this all over the ancient world. The ancients, it seems, did not have as much of an appreciation for classical, important architecture as we do today. The concept of historical preservation would have seemed quite foreign to them, yet modern society has realized that these giants of ancient architecture are few and far between, and must be retained in their original place and used for their original purpose in as many cases as possible.

Across the Tiber River from the heart of Rome sits a rather small, unassuming church which according to legend was the site of the miracle of the flowing oil, streaming from the Fons Olei which foretold the birth of Christ. Santa Maria in Trastevere, dating to as far back as the 4^th century, can again be described as a basic basilica type church and has a long history of building, renovation, destruction by fire, and rebuilding throughout its history. Speaking of the interior first, the columns that separate the nave from the side aisles are a different type of example of spolia, as these Ionic columns have been taken from different buildings and therefore have dissimilar capitals, shafts, and bases. As opposed to Santa Sabina where the columns are exactly alike and tie the entire interior composition together, the columns at Santa Maria represent a mish-mash of sources from where they originated. Some of the columns have been taken from the Baths of Caracalla, and others are from an unknown origin. While the underlying form might be similar to what we saw earlier in the day, it seems as though this church is a bit disjointed on the interior. The character and personality of the inside is also different when compared to Santa Sabina. The latter’s interior was more serene, humble, and compositionally sound; whereas the former’s richly decorated interior, layered geometrically complex ceiling, ornately adorned golden apse mosaic, and swirling floor pattern (famous for its Cosmatesque decoration) give the sense that it has both accumulated these features over time and a congregation with a more dynamic personality than that of the previous example.

The exterior, similarly, has undergone many renovations over its history. It was in fact one of the first churches to be dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and its famous 12^th century mosaic above the portico depicts Mary nursing baby Jesus along with 10 virgins. It is interesting to see here a mosaic decorating the outside of a church (as well as the interior). I am anticipating seeing the mosaics on the exterior of San Marco in Venice and to what extent they have deteriorated. I’m sure these famous churches undergo some restoration over the years but it is still amazing to see this quality of a mosaic remaining intact after centuries of existence.

Next stop today was the church of San Clemente, one of the more intriguing churches we have visited so far. Why is it so intriguing? It has 3 levels of history which you can climb down and physically see for yourself - the record of this church is preserved for your eyes and not just for reading in a book. The first and lowest level is a 1^st century Roman building, an insula which was converted into a Mithraic temple. The middle level is a church, built in the 4^th century, which had been in use until it was sacked in the 1100’s. The upper level is a church built in the 12^th century over the foundations of the lower church. Walking through the lowest level of the church, one definitely gets the feeling of being in a cave, due to the lack of windows, almost no decoration, and the dark-colored stone. It also features one of the earliest underground religions of the Roman empire: the cult of Mithras. The Mithraic religion was actually practicing simultaneously with Christianity and does feature some of the same myths and stories as its ancient counterpart. What I think is important to note about the layering of the church is that it is actually a physical manifestation of the changes in our religion over time. Looking back on how Christianity became the dominant religion of our era, it was done so on the remains of older religions and cults which had died out before it, none more so than the cult of Mithras. The second level, which was excavated starting in the 1860’s by Joseph Mullooly, is today made up of a conglomerate of modern stabilizing elements and Medieval support structures. This space, too, has somewhat of a cave-like feel to it, although less so than the level below it simply because it still has some frescoes remaining on its walls and there are some more architectural elements to its construction, namely the freestanding columns which are set off from wall sections defining the central nave. Modern brickwork helps to stabilize the second floor of this complex building, which makes it hard to separate the modern aspects from the ancient ones. Standing in the nave of the upper church, I find myself 60’ above the 1^st century level! Quite remarkably, San Clemente has quite a resemblance to Santa Maria in Trastevere. It employs columns which have been reused from earlier structures (spolia), a richly and ornately decorated paneled ceiling (from the 18^th century), and another uniquely beautiful apse mosaic. What is interesting about the mosaic on the apse is its depiction of early Christian motifs that would come to dominate much of Medieval art during this period. The use of vines around the cross at the apse suggests Christianity’s dominance and expansion into every corner of the world.

Other symbols include:

· the fish (Christ),

· the dove (peace),

· the sheep (the congregation and the sacrifice),

· the Chi-Rho (1^st two letters of Christ’s name in Latin),

· the radiating lunette (heaven)

· the lamps within the vines (wisdom)

· the 4 rivers flowing below the cross (4 rivers mentioned in the Bible, Genesis 2)

· animals drinking from the fountain (giving them life)

All these symbols are replete with Biblical significance and can be found in most if not all churches belonging to a similar time period. This again indicates Christianity’s willingness to repeat the same symbols over and over in order to attain a certain amount of cohesion throughout its congregation.

Of note as well is the courtyard in front of the main entrance. It is one of the few remaining forecourts in a church, the legacy of which can be traced to the ancient Roman forum where the temple to Jupiter Capitolinus would front an open space. Again this picks up on the theme of Christianity borrowing many of the components of its religion from the practices of the ancient Romans. It is a simple execution of a building with an open space in front for gathering, but an important one nonetheless. This open space has been referred to as Paradise, a term without Greek or Latin but Persian roots. It has also come to signify in our minds the concept of heaven.

5/27 Hadrian's Villa

Tivoli, Italy:

So far on this excursion, we have been looking almost exclusively at public buildings and areas (the Roman forum, for example). Today, we were exposed how a private building would be formally expressed. This particular villa, built between 117 – 136AD during the reign of Hadrian and at Rome’s republican peak, is essentially a series of architectural experiments that were constructed due to both the emperor’s enormous wealth and his penchant for taking risks with brand new, never-before-seen formal representations. To show off both how well Rome’s political and economic machines were working, Hadrian built this villa outside the city of Rome as a way to escape from the city, as a way to wield power by calling the city council to the villa instead of holding meetings in Rome, and as a way to derive the benefits of rural life without having to be dependent on farming for your income. This conception of a villa appears in ancient Roman times, goes away during the Middle Ages, and then returns during the Renaissance. It is a rather fascinating study in a whole new conception of living. It is in fact a product of industrialized cities: it would not exist without this counterpart. It evolves here as a place to practice what the Romans called Otium: productive leisure.

Hadrian had no urgency to farm the land and be completely dependent on its fruits in order to live. He would essentially work on anything he wanted to, instead of those things that were essential to surviving. It seems, however, that the ability to practice otium is a result of the fortune of the very few. We see many more cases of farming the land in order to survive instead of living on a farm to essentially play around.

Hadrian was adopted into royalty. He was chosen, perhaps by destiny, to be a ruler. Ruling during a period of unprecedented expansion and wealth, he was part of a series of Roman emperors that were adopted instead of born into a family of rulers. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for Hadrian to realize that he was chosen and raised to be emperor from among any number of possible candidates. It was perhaps this fact that drove him to be such a prolific member of society: this sense of responsibility that he must have felt. Or, perhaps it was his bi-polar personality; his servants sometimes finding him toiling ceaselessly well into the night alone until a task had been completed. He had both a wife, Sabina, and a male lover, Antinus who both lived with him at the Villa. The results of this flurry of activity are seen in the spaces that he produced here, which took full advantage of the extent to which Romans had mastered concrete at the time. Most of the spaces could be seen to be unnecessary, as he had a seemingly unlimited amount of land on which to build, experiment, satisfy wealthy clients, expand his knowledge base, etc. As with most of ancient Roman architecture, the shapes and volumes we see here at Hardrian’s Villa fall into the same category of Platonic solids that are found in Rome: the circle, square, and rectangle. However, the extent to which he plays with the intersection of these volumes is quite impressive.

Due to the ruined state of most of the more exquisite examples of his creativity, we are unable to make an accurate conjecture as to how some of these spaces were enclosed and what shape they took on. The Serapeum, for example, is a pumpkin-dome shaped area that would house a triclinium, or 3-part dining table, for all of the guests and dignitaries he would host on a regular basis. I suspect it was borne out of a need to amaze those who visited the villa; borne out of a desire to move away from the more planar, one dimensional arch; and borne out of a change in conception of moving through space. When an arch becomes a barrel vault, one is inclined to move through the space, as in a basilica, museum, hallway, etc. However, when the arch rotates on itself and becomes more of a static volume, one tends to want to remain in that space for more than just a quick viewing. Specifically at this place at Hadrian’s villa, one is more inclined to remain at the Serapeum to enjoy is volumetric qualities (and rub noses with some of Rome’s elite).

Another space at this villa which can be described with the same sense of “how did they do it?” is the Piazza D’Oro, where the emperor lived w/Antinus for a time. The entrance vestibule features a similar pumpkin dome to that of the Serapeum. A spectacular rectangular colonnade would have enclosed a garden space, similar in function to a Roman house, but beefed up in scale to the point where it more resembles a palestra than an outdoor leisure area. These two features, however, pale in comparison to the structure immediately opposite the garden space from the entrance vestibule. This structure features a myriad of differing Roman construction methods, from opus reticulatum, to opus latericium, to opus caementicium. These methods have all been employed before. What makes this particular construction unique is its undulating, Greek cross-like plan. It would have been easy for Hadrian to construct a series of arches or rectangular niches to fit the programmatic needs of this space. However, in keeping with the theme of experimentation and unnecessary spaces, he has created a daring structure which we still do not totally understand today how it was roofed.

Because Hadrian’s Villa is located a mere 18 miles from Rome, it is known that the emperor ruled his empire from this location. There is also speculation that one of the most impressive and historically important structures, the Pantheon, was designed here at the villa in what is known as the Maritime Theater. This space was the private apartment of the emperor and his office, a place of solitude within this sprawling complex. Its construction is of an annular vault running the entire circumference of its circular plan. Its dimensions are also similar to that of the Pantheon, which brings up an interesting design consideration: why did the ancients decide to design some of their most important buildings in spaces that were dimensionally similar to what they would eventually produce?

We shall see at Olympia in Greece how a similar tactic was employed to design one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world. Designers today are far removed from this practice. We typically design our structures in office buildings, sometimes in small cubicles, sometimes in larger conference rooms, but never in spaces that would be dimensionally similar to the final product. Would we be inclined to be more sensitive to the needs of our clients if we did design buildings the way the Pantheon was supposedly designed? Or is this fiscally irresponsible and impractical? The reason I believe we don’t design like this today is because it is extremely hard to “test” architectural ideas until they have been built in the real world. We can stare at them on the screen or the paper all we want, but until they are physically realized we really don’t know how the space will “feel”. It is incumbent on the architect, I would suppose, to have awareness for the space he or she is designing and to have an acute sense for the end product.

Location: Villa D’Este – Tivoli, Italy

The next villa we visited on this day was also in Tivoli, just a short drive from Hadrian’s Villa. The Villa D’Este can be discussed here in terms of the Renaissance conception of a villa vs a Classical villa. Of course, some similarities can be drawn between the two. Both intended to express the tremendous wealth of the client for which it was built, and both are built on enormous plots of land that seemingly know no bounds. Built by Cardinal Ippilito D’Este in the 16^th century, it was originally a Benedictine Monastery dedicated to a man who, coming from a wealthy family, became a bishop by the age of 8 and unsuccessfully tried to become pope. It is daringly built into the side of a steep hill, which gave it tremendous views of the countryside but also challenged the engineers to come up with new and ingenious ways of getting water to the site. The Villa D’Este actually borrowed heavily from ancient Roman themes, as presented in the house that fronts its main feature, the gardens. The building of the villa touches on many ideas and concepts from the old world, from its mosaic-covered vaulting to its richly decorated interior with paintings that deal with scenes from the founding of Rome. These scenes, however, are now mixed with biblical narratives as the people of the Middle Ages attempted to rid themselves of any pagan ideas from the past. Yes, the founding of Rome was as important an event as any, but any painting that dealt specifically with this world had its story intertwined with a more scriptural narration. As stated before, the obvious main feature of this villa is its tremendous gardens and fountains, now considered a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Formally, it is arranged on an axis extending from the main house, yet it was designed such that one could not walk straight down a central path to get to the bottom. Instead, one had to meander, wind, and criss-cross down the slope, encountering different architectural features along the way. This conception of leisurely walking through a garden is quite typical from the Renaissance era, as they were attempting to recreate the grandeur and pomp from the ancient world, but of course do it on a much larger scale. The original intent of the procession of spaces was from the bottom of the site to the top, but nevertheless one can still appreciate the totality of the villa if experienced in reverse. Fountains dot every area of the gardens.

The Wall of 100 Fountains, one of its more prominent features, was a point of political propaganda as well as an incredible feat of engineering. Extending at least half the length of a football field are statue heads that spout water in unison. Some of the heads are representations of animals, while still others were political opponents of the Cardinal, meant to embarrass them by depicting them unflatteringly. The move toward political cartoons in the 18^th and 19^th centuries must have been a result of not wanting to do so much work as to carve the heads of your counterparts into stone and have water spouting from their mouths; too much effort. Every fountain here is tied together through the same network of pipes; breathtaking would be a word I would use to describe the gardens, shaped and cut to naturally fit the paths that describe its walkable area. The fleur-de-lis is a constant symbol of representation here at the villa, as the Bourbon dynasty had a large presence and influence here in the 16^th century (as evidenced by the well-manicured gardens).

5/26 Ostia

Ostia is a port city on the Western coast of Italy and is a terrific example of the template the Romans used when consecrating a new piece of land and developing it into a thriving metropolis (relative to the ancient world). One of the most important wide-view narratives that was emphasized today was the sense of the everyday life that a citizen of Ostia would have while living in the city. It was originally founded as one of the five categories of Roman cities:

Castrum – a military camp designed to defend the harbor and port of Rome

Colonia – fully inaugurated through typical rituals…everyone was a citizen with full voting rights

Minicipium – a town where citizens could only vote in local affairs but did have the protection of Roman law

Civitates – communities where people were allied to Rome but not necessary full citizens

Poleis - a pre-existing town taken over by Romans which had the ability to move up in the hierarchy

One of the more amazing aspects of the city to notice upon first walking down the decumanus (principal east/west street) was the multi-level excavation taking place. It was originally built during the Republican period (time of more or less democratic rule with an Emperor) and was then built over during the Imperial period (time after democratic rule that could be equated more along the lines of a kingship). The demarcating line between these two periods is extremely evident, as parts are dug down to reveal the earlier periods with parts remaining from later times right on top so a virtual section of time is visible.

Orientation to the city is not extremely difficult, as a north south axis (called the cardo) and east west axis (decumanus) divides the city and regulates all further subdivisions until the decumanus breaks off axis and runs perpendicular to the coast in the western part of the city. As mentioned before, the Romans used a system of templates and ceremonies to sanctify new land and spread their empire. Rites were performed where sacred items to the people such as locks of hair were buried in sort of a time capsule along with the entrails of sacrificial lambs and local flowers and fruit called the mundus. The rituals were observed, the gods were conjured, and the boundary of the city (pomerium) was dug to separate the wild, natural land from the civil, lawful interior. The Capitolium was established, dividing the main ecclesiastical structure in the forum into three cellas that housed Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.

These rituals were clearly part of a reason why the Roman Empire lasted for as long as it did: consistency. If they could take this same template and apply it to each and every land they conquer, they could then rule over the people with the same logic, rhetoric, and law. The Romans, although they consistently conquered other lands with machine-like efficiency, were relatively accepting of other religions into their culture. This could be in part due to the Roman religion being one more focused on state rather than divinity and that if they made other cultures feel included into theirs, they would be perhaps more docile when they took over a new land. Ostia was quite the cosmopolitan city due to its port city typology. At certain parts of the city a Mythraic church will be sharing a party wall with a Christian church. This is but one example of the mix of cultures the Romans were quite willing to allow into the complex organism that was Roman society. Even though at times the Romans were ruthless in trying to persecute Christians and rid them from practicing their religion, I would assume the juxtaposition of Mythraic and Christian churches must have occurred at a different point in the timeline of ancient history.

The everyday life of a citizen of Ostia is quite the same as it still is today in modern Rome. A typical street in Ostia would contain institutions that continue today such as a meat market, fish market, vegetable market, trade school, churches, warehouses, and shops selling knickknacks and other goods. These would remain on the ground floor while apartments would be stacked on top, much like any modern city. Ostia often includes sophisticated garden apartment complexes quite similar in scale to today’s modern condominiums, which are often a direct descendent of these ancient counterparts.

One of the more complex building types featured in cities like Ostia and other such Roman creations were the bath facilities. It is quite astonishing to see how many of the ancient building typologies survive to modern times. We still use many of the same building types: courthouses, administration buildings, housing complexes, etc. However, one such type that we typically do not see to this scale in such a middle class setting is the public baths. Here, many of the day to day bodily cleansing and strengthening activities would take place. I think one of the reasons we do not see these buildings to this scale is our deployment today of much more complex plumbing infrastructure to every residence. Rather, what we see here is plumbing that would be concentrated mostly on this building with a few of the upper class citizens receiving private plumbing in their homes.