Sunday, August 14, 2011

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 17th 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.

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