Three weeks in Italy! I felt like I was dipping my toe into a river of souls. It was a time of borderlines and thresholds: old year to new, marble to flesh, ancient streets filled with modern people, and classical beauty in the faces of people arguing, eating, buying stuff, driving Smartcars. The ancients seemed to live, and the Christmas crowds of elegant Italians seemed temporary flickers haunting the alleys. Meet some of my marble buds.
The Capitoline Walls… this guy is great. Is he a David figure? To us he looked like he had 400 years of saying “Hey, Sailor” to his credit. Cocky. Just sayin’…
An achingly blue winter day, and I couldn’t tear myself away from the brilliant negative shapes against the stone. Youth and horse… stunning contained force, and a tremendous face. I like the entire Capitoline hill, and this museum piazza was designed by The Big Mike, Michaelangelo.
Capitoline Hill, sunset from the museum cafe terrace. Murmurations of starlings, kinetic. The whole Hill was formerly a nest of state oracles and seers. They liked the elevation so they could interpret flights of birds. Nowadays the seagulls have invaded. Oddly, they fly at night in the city, shrieks and white forms soaring in the darkness, a bit ghoulish.
Classical sculptures are virtually all knockoffs—copied from ancient Greek sources, now lost— or propaganda for the ruler du jour. Some mighty bodies were made with removable heads so the next Caesar could just screw his own on. The head of Constantine below is 5 feet high, so the whole sculpture, with pedestal and base, might have been 50 to 70 feet or more. Statues of this mass can so easily verge on Facist architechture. But they impress. Think of Lady Liberty!
What has that flawed eye perceived in its time? Think, too, of paint and decoration, fabrics and jewels originally draped around the sculpture. The marble we see now is more a bone structure. Ripped from their original colored and decorated context, they become evocative collage pieces. But some still shine. I felt that it wouldn’t take long to develop a real relationship with them. The more we like them, the more they come alive, like any so-called “object”, I suppose. I’ll miss hanging with them.
Next: Happy Couples and Horned Gals: More Archaic Art Friends from Rome and Naples