The Omens

Signs are meant to guide us, and give us a taste of what may come. On the afternoon of the 26^th I ignored all these crucial signals and entered into one of the creepiest situations of my life. As I stated in my previous post Mary and I planned to spend our free day going to major sites from the movie Angels and Demons, however there was one stop we wanted to make that had no association with the film: The Boxer Museum. This is not the official title of the museum but it known for housing The Boxer (a bronze sculpture of a older man who is bloodied and scared from his fights.) To see The Boxer was 100% on my Rome bucket list, as I have spent the last semester studying Greek art – including this piece. While our hopes were high and our demeanors optimistic, fate had something much darker in mind.

            The first sign that warned us about the museum were the closed gates; we had some difficulty even discovering the entrance. The second sign came to us when we went on line to buy our tickets – The Boxer (the statue I have thought about for MONTHS) was on loan to another museum. A wave of sadness washed over me, but this was a museum, right? There had to be loads of other fascinating artifacts that would distract me from the loss of The Boxer. The final, and most important sign in my opinion came before we fully entered the exhibit. The ticket that I had purchased not two minutes prior would not scan, and thus the machine would not let me through. Even when the attendant tried to help my ticket denied me access. She ultimately gave up and used her overriding pass to let me through. These were my omens, my warnings to keep away, but did I listen? No.

            The tone of the museum was somber and eerie. The first hallway, and all the ones to follow, had rows upon rows of marble heads. While some were full busts most were just heads that had broken off from larger statues. When we finished walking down the hallway we had to pass through heavy black curtains, which led to a more menacing part of the museum. All the walls were red and there were no overhanging lights, the only sources of illumination were small spotlights that were arranged around the artifacts. There were also random mirrors placed on certain walls. Discovering your reflection when you are not looking for it can be greatly unnerving. The only sounds in this room were the whispers of other people and an irregular beeping. When the beeping finally ended, a dark compilation of music began. A flute and organ were two instruments that continually penetrated and filled the rooms with a sense of intensity and terror. Arguably, the strangest aspects of the first floor gallery were the numerous couples that seemed to be feeding off this dark atmosphere like an aphrodisiac. Their intimate whispers and movements were more disturbing then the heads.

            Mary and I decided to be brave and venture to the upper floors – a courageous decision. It is fair to say the atmosphere did not improve. While there was full lighting again the numerous marble statues continued to give off an air of intimidation, probably due to the haunting music. The worst segment of this floor was a pitch-black room with only two minute lights. One light was directed at a ghostly mask and the other at a case of marble hands and fingers. We did not linger long.

            The architects of this museum seriously wanted to confuse their future visitors. All of the hallways were a dark gray color and many of them led to a dead end. More than once Mary and I found ourselves trapped in a twisted corner. After an hour of this maze I began to feel like a mouse with a scientist constantly watching me as I navigated my way out of this enclosure. We decided to grab our things and leave without visiting the basement floor for obvious reasons. As we collected our bags and began speed walking towards the exit we had a true moment of panic. The bright outside world was suddenly being closed off to us; the once open doors were attempting to shut us back into the sinister world that is The Boxer museum. At the last second we jumped through the closing portal and regained our freedom. I felt as if I had just escaped the Roman version of Hotel California. We turned away from this ominous realm and did not look back.

Angels and Demons and Croissants

Fun Fact of the day: If you ask for a chocolate croissant, even if there are none left, they will make you one within a minute! They literally just fill a plain croissant with nutella in seconds. You do not have to change your order or suffer through a morning without chocolate – you’re welcome. This discovery is how Mary and I began our free day in Rome. We decided to spend our day going to a few major sites from the movie Angels and Demons, which while historically and religiously inaccurate is an incredibly fun movie to watch (sorry Professor Spinner). As a result we spent our morning at the Castel Sant’Angelo. While we would have visited this site regardless of the movie, having the film in mind gave Mary the hope that we would discover an ancient passageway, preferably one that would lead us to the Pope.

            We arrived early in the morning so the line was short and the space was incredibly empty. As a result we had an air of leisure during our time at the Castel. We were so relaxed in fact that we spent nearly a half hour leaning against a wall just talking and watching people play with their dogs, a phenomenon for me. This ancient monumental site was essentially a dog park for them. The ruins of this city are so ingrained in their personal lives! Since we spent so much time observing the dogs some of our friends, who had left for the Castel a little later than us, caught up! Our group of two had become one of five, and we continued on to the next level.

            During our morning at the Castel we witnessed various eras of time, all of which left their mark on this single monument. First we observed the prison cells that were used during the medieval period. While the whole site exuded beauty and intrigue, these spaces left a great deal to be desired. The area was one of depression, and we did not linger long. We then went through an older passageway that led to what would have been the main entrance to the mausoleum in antiquity (for those of you who do not know the Castel Sant’Angelo was originally Emperor Hadrian’s mausoleum). The size of the apse and length of the corridor to the entrance was colossal and gave off a sense of grandeur that only an Emperor could have. On the upper levels we reached the Papal apartments, which illustrated a diffusion between Catholicism and pagan tales. Although these rooms are meant to house the Pope, the decorations incorporated a lot of mythic elements. There were even depictions of Eros and Psyche in the bedroom! I was a bit confused by these adornments but the artistic appeal was clear.

            Next we ascended an extremely tight and narrow stone staircase from the Papal apartment, unsure of exactly where it would go. The entire Castel in fact was a bit difficult to navigate because of all the stairs and the roundness of the structure: we were literally going in circles. At the end of the stairs we arrived at the top of the fortress. While I had expected to see the famous statue of the archangel Michael his presence actually surprised me. As soon as I turned around he was right above me. His intimidation gaze pointed directly at the crowd. I was star struck by him to be honest. The view from the Castel Sant’Angelo was like my map come to life. Everything was animated to the extreme. It was also amazing see the spectrum of the city. To the right was St. Peter’s Basilica with people constantly moving, while to the left stood the outline of enormous mountains, which were secluded in serenity. To truly appreciate the view, and to conclude our time at the Castel Sant’Angelo, I quietly plugged my ear buds into my phone, handed one earpiece to Mary and played the composition 503 by Hans Zimmer. The piercing cry of the violin whispering into our ears completed the experience, as it expressed the mystery and beauty of Rome with its tortured melody.

Ethereal Roses

To sleep or not to sleep, that is the question – whether ‘tis noblier of the body to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous alarm clocks or to take up arms against a sea of exhaustion. I will cease there for those of you who do not enjoy Shakespeare as much as I do, but please realize the dramatic decision making process I went through this morning. A few days ago our group was informed of a unique Mass that would take place in the Pantheon: the Pentecost. The date for this mass changes annually, and the crowds are huge because at the end thousands of rose petals descend from the Pantheon’s oculus. Mary and I automatically planned to attend, as this was a once in a lifetime opportunity! However, our excitement was drained by the morning of the actual event. When we both became coherent enough to speak we began to talk ourselves out of going. However, once we remembered how exceptional this event would be and how much we would regret not going we leaped out of our beds. Within twenty minutes we were dressed and looking surprising presentable (an impressive feat considering the short amount of time and the cold showers standing in our way). As we ran to grab a quick croissant before hurrying to the Pantheon we discovered two of our peers and our peer mentor heading to the same event. A feeling of relief washed over us, we were not late at all! Together the five of us jumped on the bus and we were off to an experience I will never forget.

            We arrived at the site at roughly 9:30, an hour before the mass was to begin. While we had walked around the outside of the Pantheon during our first evening in Rome actually entering the structure was another experience entirely. Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of bustling people I heard nothing. My entire being was focused on the encompassing sculptures and the oculus above. I could feel my heart stop as I drank in my environment; it was one of the most devastatingly beautiful places I have ever seen. Just one glance at Mary and I knew we had the same thought: we made the right decision. Even though all the seats were taken we had an unexpectedly good view of the altar, and we were almost directly under the oculus itself. The sound of violins filled the air, it was then it truly hit me that I was about to attend a mass in Rome.

             The waiting game began as we realized we had an hour to kill. I personally think this was the longest aspect of the mass. People were constantly moving around us, and many tried to push their way through in hopes of attaining a better view. Two notable examples of this were an overly affectionate couple and a fleet of old women. During this time the violin players (which we discovered was a group of incredibly talented children) finished their set and the singers began to warm up. To say their voices were angelic is an understatement. They set the tone for the entire ceremony, which was very traditional and stunning. When the mass began all the clergy figures processed through the center towards the altar, the sight was humbling and joyous. Since most of the mass was in a different language I focused on my surroundings. During the beginning one of the priests lit incense and blessed the church. The smell eventually wafted towards our group and it instantly relaxed me. This scent soon mixed with the light drizzle entering the Pantheon from the oculus. Together, I felt closer to nature than trapped between hundreds of people. Eventually my joints began to stiffen and the pain set in, but it was all worth it in the end.

            Towards the closing of the mass, the crowd noticed the small figures above peeking their heads over the oculus to look into the Pantheon. The excitement was reignited once more, as we knew the roses were coming. The moment when they began to fall was mystical; smiles erupted on the faces of everyone inside. As the petals rained down from the oculus I felt nothing but bliss. The petals did not fall for a few seconds but for minutes. It seemed to never end, and no one wanted it to. The sight was jubilant and sacred all at once. It felt as if my soul was laughing with utter joy. When the roses finally ceased we each grabbed a few of the fallen petals as tokens of an experience that will exist in our memories for the rest of our lives.  

Ekphrasis - Graceful Ferocity

The first aspects the eyes focus on are pastel colors as they jump out from the dark pigments of the forest. The vessels that hold these light shades are various women. While these women are dispersed all their attention remains on a single object: the prey. Moving from left to right the women illustrate various facial expressions, ranging from wonder to joy to curiosity. Each body is shapely and pale as they extend their limbs to get a better glimpse of their target. Certain pieces of their bodies are covered in drapery but a great deal of their skin is left bare, some women even have their breasts exposed. By using natural colors these women appear soft and gentle, but their fluidity gives them an edge. Some women are animalistic in their stance, crouching and leaning into the hunt. Many of the women are sporting outfits of greens and blues, but the women in action wear warmer colors, namely red and pink. These women wearing passionate hues are holding weaponry, bow and arrow, and controlling the dogs as they jump at the prey. Towards the center are two females of particular interest. One is standing triumphantly, with her bow thrust into the air. Her whole body is in motion. Her dress combines two diverse colors, a pale yellow-green and a light pink. This combination seems to bring the natural environment and the heat of the hunt together. She also wears a crescent symbol in her hair that is unique among the women. The second intriguing female is of much younger age, and she is the only girl to stare back at the viewer. Her intense gaze is almost a challenge, as if daring an outsider to complete the task these women did: to kill an animal. Her entire body is visible as she relaxes in a shallow pond. Her skin is also angelically pale and dainty. Finally the eyes reach the interest of these ladies, a bird. Although animal is already falling, another round of arrows flies around its body. While there are smaller figures in the background, the women are the main characters as they use their elegant forms to complete an inherently masculine task. 

(La caccia di Diana - painting - by Domenico Zampieri)

Villa Borghese 

Only Fragments

As I entered the Palatine Hill a sense of relaxation overwhelmed me. The space that surrounded me mainly consisted of vibrant nature with sections of ancient ruins. While I was an outsider to this space I felt more like a welcomed guest during my early steps. Although the nature appeared to overtake the ruins, there was still an air of majesty to the area. Both architecturally and historically this region is a monumental symbol of Rome; this is where Romulus saw the omen that granted him the ability to grasp control of the region. I truly felt the importance of my setting as a result of this fact. While time has clearly taken a toll on this space, the significance of the antiquity was not lost but found a new home in the modern era. The cars and buses zooming outside the gate did not deteriorate the past but illustrated the flow of people between the modern and ancient realms; this space is a connection between the current Romans and their predecessors. I was free to move through the space for the first few minutes, as there were only natural barriers and the looming ruins off to our left. Everything was enormous, from the ancient human constructions to the bushes. As we continued on our path the ruins became larger and suddenly we were standing before the remains of a massive palace, the emperor’s imperial palace to be precise. I was humbled and felt extremely insignificant compared to my surroundings. I believe this is what the architects desired all along, to make the viewer understand the imperial family’s influence and the strength of the emperor. I was no longer a guest but an outsider. Each building competed with its neighbor for attention; I could almost hear the egos of the previous emperors as they argued whose addition to the region was the most luxurious and impressive. Even in modern times they demanded to be noticed. I had understood the power of the wealthy in historical terms, but until I witnessed the magnitude of these constructions I did not fully comprehend architectural supremacy of the upper class. And these were only fragments of the emperor’s illustrious home.


(Palatine Hill 5/21)