We arrive at the Borghese and are directed to an ambiguous "downstairs" area. We stumble into an underground complex of cafeteria, bookstore, ticket counter, and coat check. We are given a 1pm time, and so we sit and imbibe till then. The rules at the Borghese require that you check all bags… but like all rules here, they are loosely enforced. I spot many backpacks later, in the galleries. This make sense, because how can you enforce rules to the 2 billion tourists who flock in and out every day. The futility of even trying must overwhelm the guards…. who actually seem to care about what they're doing. They seem somewhat proud to oversee the security of national treasures. Contrast this with the American museum staff, who seem to not even realize what they are doing.
The Borghese houses MANY masterpieces of art, including everyone's favorite… Carravaggio. The Carravaggios including Saint Jerome, St. John the Baptist, "Madonna, Child and Serpent", "Boy With a Basket of Fruit", and "Bacchus".
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| Saint Jerome |
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| Madonna, Child and Serpant |
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| Boy with Basket of Fruit |
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| Bacchus |
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| Saint John the Baptist |
Also present in the gallery are Titian's "Sacred and Profane Love", Raphael's "Deposition", Bellini's "Madonna and Child", as well as several huge sculptures by Bernini, including "Appolo and Daphne" and "Rape of Prosperina". Also in the collection is the Conova sculpture of Pauline Bonaparte.
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| Madonna and Child (Bellini) |
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| Deposition (Raphael) |
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| Pauline Bonapart (Canova) |
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| Sacred and Profane Love (Titian) |
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| Rape of Proserpina (Bernini) |
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| Apollo and Daphne (Bernini) |
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| David (Bernini) |
At some point in the visit I lay my eyes upon a sculpture of Saint John the Baptist, by French sculptor Antoine Houdon. Houdon is know to art students primarily for his ecorche sculpture... that is... a sculpture of a nude figure with the skin removed. It is used to study human anatomy. Notice in the images below that the pose of the ecorche is the same as the pose of Saint John the Baptist. Apparently, Houdon had made the ecorche as study in preparation for the Baptist sculpture. And thus ends the mystery of Houdon's ecorche.
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| Saint John the Baptist (in Borghese) |
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| Ecorche study |
The works I've mentioned here are standard inclusions in Art History text books. I've had the strange feeling in Italy that I'm walking through just such an Art History textbook. In fact, I catch myself thinking… "Isn't it strange that all the noted works of western art JUST SO HAPPEN to be here in Italy". But then I keep reminding myself that this is no coincidence… because the text books were written based on these artworks being here in the first place… not the other way around.
The Borghese Gallery is located on the vast Borghese Gardens, giving one pause to consider the vast inequities of wealth in the past, and their extravagent display. The richness of Italian art that we celebrate today obscures the political realities that gave rise to it… namely, the corrupted power of Imperial Roman monumental vanity projects, as well as the dandy-ism of Renaissance lords and ladies, who spent fortunes decorating their lavish lifestyles. The artists of those times made careers as tradespeople, supplying the demand. The vast holdings of painting and sculpture… most of which is of fine technical quality but absent of any aesthetic quality… is a testament to how societies produce the skilled labor necessary to meet demand, and that overall excellence was as rare then as today.
The Borghese Gardens today are a public park, and as we stroll across their vast lawns in the direction of the Piazza del Popolo, we have the chance to once again contrast public comportment in Europe with that in America. What strikes us at this moment is calm demeanor the park visitors have. Nobody rushes or is in a hurry. If you imagine your best day in the most relaxing park… this is how everyone is acting… except a few tourists. I think that in American we are tightly wound springs, forever expending our energies in some direction, often to no effect other than to wind our spring in the opposite direction… in a constant, pendulous cycle that only ends in death. I told Margaret that an easy way to identify Americans is to take note of their facial expressions… because Americans always look very unhappy. They seem anxious and worries… their eyes darting about… a sense of exasperation hangs on them. I recognize it easily in myself. Everything in America is about the next thing. Everything is about fetishizing some future moment or acquisition, such that the present never materializes as a self-sufficient moment of experience. The Europeans know how to live in the moment. I cannot give them individual credit for knowing this… for it is simply the culture that instills it in them… just as in America we embrace a frenetic lifestyle without even realizing it. It is the all powerful force of society… with no known cure… but moments away from it (like this one) put one into a kind of remission… I hope.
We eventually reach the Piazza del Popolo again, and this we go into the Santa Maria del Popolo in order to experience the architecture… but mostly to view the Carravaggio there. Contained there in the Cerasi Chapel are two famous canvases… "Crucifixion of St. Peter", and "Conversion on the way to Damascus". Again, it's fascinating to see such masterpieces of art adorning the place they were commissioned for over 400 years ago.
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| Conversion on the Flight Into Egypt (Carravaggio) |
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| Crucifixion of St. Peter (Carravaggio) |
The next stop on our endless walking tour is to wander over into the Prati neighborhood, north of the Vatican… both to check it out, but also to hit up a photography store on Via del Germanica 168, in order to buy more film. Which I do. Four more rolls that cost too much, but what can you do. (6 euros a roll). Not too terribly bad. First we stop for a drink at a sidewalk cafe, then get the film, then wander over toward the Vatican. The Prati area is very relaxing. It's more like Paris than the rest of Rome. It's more of a modern gridplan than the gothic meandering of much of Old Rome. Guidebooks describe it as sedate and less exciting, but such descriptions really depend on what one finds exciting. After all, even the boisterousness of the Campo di Fiori could be described as sedate and boring compared to a Tunisian Camel Auction, or the floor of a stock exchange. So such judgments on places can be very misleading.
We arrive at St. Peters Square around 6pm, only to find a very, very long line to get in. The sun is beating down and our weary bodies cannot possible roast on that hot tarmac. So we sit in the shade of the obelisk there, and write some postcards. Unfortunately, the post office at the Vatican is closed, and so I cannot fulfill my promise to mail postcards from the Vatican.
We start heading back to Campo di Fiori, but along the way we decide to walk along the Tiber by descending the stone stairs at the Prince Amedeo bridge, that lead down to the rivers edge. This means we're on the Trastevere side of the river (just to be exact). From what I read, the Romans have "turned their backs" on the Tevere river (Tiber, in Latin). Apparently, it's reign of flooding-terror had caused the Romans to construct 3 foot high walls all around it to keep the flood waters at bay, and thus is is removed from daily life. The bridges across it are beautiful, and the views there picturesque… but the stone walkways one either side of the rivers edge are barely used. They are littered with trash here and there, and some homeless… and the cyclists use it as a fast track across the city. This very same situation held in Florence, a few days later… where Florentines have turned their back on the Arno by constructing also very high walls. Florence actually suffered a devastating flood in 1966, where the whole city was submerged under 5 to 10 feet of water (and more)…. and many art treasures were lost or badly damaged.
This river-denial contrasts with Paris, where the Seine and it's banks feature heavily into public identity, and there is a ton of pedestrian traffic and energy on ti's banks.. at least in the summer. Despite all this Roman history…. on this particular day the banks of the Tiber are alive with temporarily installed tents, stretching for a mile or so… one right after another. Each tent is some kind of bar or cafe, many containing life even stages, and so on. We have no idea what it is for. It all looks so inviting and cool. But they are just setting up for some evening events… and we have learned from experience not to approach European establishments before they are officially open… as the staff will look at you like you're an asshole. In America, they might at least appreciate the business… but Europeans don't seem to quite get the lust for profit. So they only open when they're read. The customer is not always right in Rome.
By walking along the river, we miss walking past the Villa Farnesina, which lies up on the street above the river. This is no big loss, other than in my overly-researched itinerary of Rome, where it showed up on my list of "possible" places to go. Any place we don't get to tears at my gut, making me feel like I didn't get it done. But really, my list was too long to cover in six days… and that's ok.
The richness of things to see in Rome brings one into a conflict with a different value to be found in travel… and that is the attempt to connect to how a places feels. You cannot access this feeling by visiting historical sites. The only way to achieve it is by walking the streets and sitting in cafes and strolling along rivers, and so on. The feel of a place is literally everywhere… and exists in yourself as a kind of emotional abstraction… only possible by NOT focusing on singular places… but allowing your mind to expand and diffuse itself variously.
If you miss a tourist stop, then so be it. You can always see it next time. But if you never feel the vibe of a city…. then it will never feel special… and you're unlikely to return. As this week has worn on, and as we've been actively running about checking things off our excellent list… we begin to feel we are not connecting to Rome, and so we have slowed down in the way that allows this other thing to open us for us. And this is gratifying. The walk along the river BY ITSELF is not the answer, but when combined with other meanderings, we find ourselves being drawn into the current of which I speak.
We climb back up off the Tiber at Ponte Sisto, and cross over back over from Trastevere to the Centro Storico (Historical Center, where the Campo di Firori is, as well as Piazz Navona, Pantheon, and everything else besides). Margret bird-dogs a leather store and must go in for ½ hour while I sit on a narrow marble door jamb whilst scooters and smart cars whiz by my head. She makes several key purchases. After leaving, we pick up some of the endless cups of gelato we are to eat on this trip. I would say we have each ingested 3 gallons of gelato at this point. On this occasion I accidentally buy a 6 euro LARGE, and end up with way more than I want. Whatever.
My gelato flavor of choice on this trip has been pistachio. Probably because I read somewhere that if the pistachio is a dull brown/green, then you can be sure it's good… but that if it's bright green, it has been artificially colored and is less good. This got me into eating it, and I liked it… and then I stick with what I like…especially when the other flavors (which look really good) have weird names I cannot pronounce… and the girls behind the counter (oddly) do not speak much English. How dare they!!!! I even got into a dispute because I did not pronounce the letter "g" in the Italian spelling of Vanilla (which they spell Vaniglia). She looked at me like she didn't even understand what I was saying. All over a lower-case 'g'.
We get home exhausted again, and crash on the wonderful leather sofas there. We watch the first half of "Lawrence of Arabia" (which is two hours long anyway). We then get back up and go out to the Campo to have a drink. Then we walk to the Piazza Novona, then to the Pantheon, where we have another drink. I walk Margaret past the Goggi art supply store just to show her where it is… then we go home… and that's that for today.
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