Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A Poseur's Guide to Art: Lesson #4

On Sunday evening, we got back from a pedal-to-the-metal weekend in Rome.  We saw so much great stuff, that it was a bit hard to process it all.  Every moment was terrific, but the truly special day was Saturday.  Lawrence led us on a Caravaggio walk in the morning, during which we saw the great artist's work, including his St. Matthew series, in situ.  (Fancy, foreign term for art made specifically for the site in which it resides...)  In the afternoon,  Lawrence led us to the Borghese Gallery.  (And many, many thanks,  Lawrence, for putting it all in context.  I felt like I was stealing credit hours.  You are, without question, the second best tour guide I've ever had.)

I've been lucky enough to have traveled to Rome four times now.  That has meant multiple trips to the Borghese.  And that has meant multiple viewings of works by Bernini.  I'm going to take my smart-ass hat off for a second -- which makes me feel strangely uncomfortable (I know, big surprise) -- and write down what I always think whenever I view Bernini generally and his Apollo and Daphne in particular: I can't believe that a human being did this...a human being in his 20's, no less.  What started as a big, rough hunk of marble, became an impossibly delicate, impossibly balanced, impossibly active masterpiece of remarkable power and beauty.  I imagine Bernini musing that marble simply can't be rendered so thinly that one can see light through the finished product, and that a marble statue can't possibly stand with such gaping holes carved out of the center of the once big, hulking stone.  And then he proceeded to achieve the impossible.

And, honestly, these pictures don't begin to do justice to the real thing...




This is friggin' marble...

If you're interested in the myth behind the sculpture, here it is.  Long story short, Daphne is in the midst of being transformed into a tree in order to escape Apollo's unwanted advances.  Why would anyone want go to such lengths to ward off the god of, among other things, light, knowledge, music, poetry, and the sun?  Click on the link.

If you're interested in Bernini, come to Rome. 





7 comments:

  1. I really want to come to Rome! I really want to . . . .

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  2. Will you get there with Alex's band trip next summer? If not (or even if you will, for that matter), we'll be back here every couple of years. Come join us (again)!

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  3. We are 90 percent sure of going as a threesome (Alex, Sammie and I) b/c Alex will have to travel and stay with the band as a unit. Sad, though, that it's an "off" year for you!! Hope you're completely and utterly enjoying yourself (how can you not!). :)

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  4. Hi to Italy, Maybe we'll Join you in 2014. Your pictures are wonderful.

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  6. Wow, Mom & Ken, I'm impressed. Welcome to the late-20th century! I anxiously await your Twitter feed.

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  7. I am going to have to stop reading this blog due to extreme Italy needs that are materializing with each post. PS: I would turn into a tree too, the poor women caught up with any of those gods wound up tied to rocks or punished into Hades for eating fruit or whatall. Tree is better in the long run. Trust me, what plaything of a god had it work out for her?

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