Friday, October 5, 2012

A Religious Experience

For me, a trip to the Vatican was not a pilgrimage of faith; it was the fulfillment of a lifelong journey of learning and discovery.  I have longed for the opportunity to visit the treasures that were commissioned for this place by those with the power and resources to do so.  Specifically, two of my most favorite works of art live here:  Raphael’s School of Athens and Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling. 

It is interesting that neither of these is Christian in subject.  It was a great surprise to discover how much of the art adorning the walls and halls of the Vatican properties was not Christian-themed.  It was also interesting—if not historically significant—to learn that while Michaelangelo and Raphael are well-represented, Leonardo daVinci is conspicuously absent in the Vatican.  Anyone who has read the daVinci code need not wonder why.

I had to force our tour guide to change her plans in order to see the Raphael rooms.  The flow of tour traffic is strictly regulated by guards throughout the Vatican.  Given where we entered, we could not easily incorporate Raphael into our circuit without trading it for “the ancients.”  It was worth it.

Raphael and Michelangelo were said to be competitors in their day.  There is much to suggest that Raphael had the opportunity to glance at the Sistine Chapel during the completion of his frescos.  What he saw overwhelmed him and pushed the quality of his art.  School of Athens is the beneficiary of this effort, as it is dramatically superior in quality than the frescos in the adjoining rooms, many of which are believed to be completed by others from Raphael’s workshop after his death at the tender age of 37.

Having only seen this masterpiece in art books, I was astounded by its scale.  Covering a large wall in a room that was used for dining, and positioning its focal point well over the heads of the occupants, the work is larger than life.  Depicting a debate between Plato and Aristotle—the former gesturing to the heavens while the latter looks to the Earth—it is set in an incongruously Roman setting with sharply defined architectural details.  Like many works of Renaissance art, this one holds many secrets.  The image of Plato is a portrait of Leonardo daVinci (ironic that he finds himself as a surprise guest at the Vatican); the others in the gallery depict notables from Raphael’s time.  Even Raphael himself is portrayed as a witness to this improbably scene.

While Raphael’s opportunity to cover the walls of several apartment rooms would have been a lucrative commission, it is regrettable that this was destined as a private space—never to be seen by the public.  Imagine the blow to the artist’s ego when he discovers that his painstaking masterpieces are to be sequestered in the plastered walls of a remote residence!  Michelangelo, by contrast, was given the ceiling of a chapel—a building that would be used by hundreds of people on a regular basis.  Initially, the two men were unaware of each other’s works, but when Raphael discovered Michelangelo’s good fortune, it fueled his jealousy and pushed his art.

I was unprepared for the impact of Michelangelo’s ceiling.  The Sistine Chapel is not a large building; nor is it particularly grand architecturally.  And by comparison to the overadorned, art-encrusted buildings throughout the Vatican, it is simple and understated.  Other than tours, the only use for this space is during conclave, when the College of Cardinals meets to choose the next Pope.  But for this highest of all purposes, they have saved the best of the best. 

Michelangelo was not a painter; he was a sculptor.  It is said that he was unhappy to have been pushed into accepting the chapel ceiling commission, but times being what they were, he was unable to refuse.  The irony is that his work does little to discount his worth as a painter—and this he does by revealing his sculptor’s eye, creating figures so three-dimensional they could have been carved from stone. Each body possesses such form and weight, a feat accomplished by the most skillful blending of pigments, that they seem in high relief against the background.  These are not the crowded, detailed, graphic Roman scenes we saw across rooms and rooms of frescoes and tapestries.  These are simple Biblical stories bathed in holy light.

I have seen the beautiful scene of Creation a thousand times in print:  Adam’s lifeless index finger about to be charged by the spark of G-d.  I was surprised to discover how much more this panel told me in person (once I put on my glasses so I could see it at its great distance from the floor.)  Michelangelo was a remarkable storyteller.  As Adam was created in G-d’s image, so this Adam is the very reflection of G-d.  Adam’s splayed out leg is parallel and exact in form to G-d’s own, their toes identical on identical feet.  Even through the draping of G-d’s figure, you can see that his physique is the model for Adam’s, his facial features clearly reflected in Adam’s younger countenance.  I can go on and on.

What impressed me most in Michelangelo’s tableau was the elegance and restraint.  Clearly he had access to the finest materials and pigments, but they were not shown off  by superfluous ornamentation.   These panels had the simplest of backgrounds while the subjects were focused and clear.  And like the sculptor that he was, he communicated everything through the figures themselves—through composition, gesture, expression, and pose.   The approach had a mixed media effect, clearly distinguishing it from anything that had come before and also from everything that has been accomplished since.

I found myself standing in the chapel in a kind of trance.  Despite the buzz of the crowd, I heard only angels singing.  Tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes.  It was the emotion of having finally fulfilled one of my greatest dreams—a high entry on my personal bucket list.  I was awed by the genius of the sculptor as painter, by the physical and creative capital expended in the making of art, and by the enduring beauty and relevance of the resulting masterpiece.

There have been several efforts in modern times to digitize great works of art, making them “accessible” to all.  Seeing and studying an important painting online may be useful for educational purposes.  But for a truly religious experience, visit the great masterpieces of the world up close and personal.



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