Un respiro

The last few weeks have been non-stop action. This weekend I finally felt like I had a moment to stop, sleep, and breathe.

The craziness began the previous weekend. I went to Milan and Lake Como (details later) and then barreled into an intense week of program activities. Looking and thinking, thinking and looking. On Monday we had a day trip to Orvieto and Civitavecchia del Bagnoregio. Orvieto is so lovely. So lovely. It's one of my favorite Umbrian hill towns, complete with a funicular, medieval walls and a black and white striped duomo. The highlight of going to Orvieto this time was viewing Francesco Mochi's Annunciation group (an angel and the Virgin Mary) for the Duomo. The sculptures have been moved to a museum, so we were able to walk all around them, really taking the opportunity to view them from all angles. These works were early in Mochi's career and are dated just a few years after "my" Saint Cecilia. They are utterly amazing. The folds of drapery that this sculptor was able to achieve almost tell a story in and of themselves. There are sharp folds and spiraling angles that all make the sculptures look as though they are dynamically taking flight. You get the sense that the angel has just descended up on us in a torrent of whipped wind that has suddenly entered the room.

The first time I came to Italy, I had so many emotional moments. I would see a Michelangelo or a Bernini and burst into tears - dramatic, I know. But I was really young, really excited and really captivated by Italian art. Since then I have felt like my relationship to these works has softened ever so slightly (and is less hysterical). I'm still fascinated by them, but in a much more analytical way. However, seeing those Mochi sculptures brought back that feeling in me from so long ago. I got very emotional, I will admit. I'm happy to know that's still in me somewhere.

Moving along...Civita di Bagnoregio, the City that is Dying. It is literally built atop a precarious-looking mesa. The sides of this mesa are said to be crumbling right out from under the city above. Only a few people actually live here. They are no cars, only a foot bridge that takes you across the valley, up a steep hill, to the town above. We made this trek to take in the breathtaking vistas and visit the bruschetteria - a lovely family-owned hole-in-the-wall serving bruschetta made with fresh-pressed olive oil. The restaurant is built into the side of the rock and is constantly warmed by a small fire, giving the space that wonderful smell of burning wood and an atmosphere of home. We were all reluctant to pull ourselves out of this haven when it was time to go. The ride home to Rome was very subdued after such a relaxing sojourn in the "dying city."

On Wednesday we spent nine hours in the Vatican. NINE. It was a productive day and I was able to see important works with a fresh eye. I realized that it had been almost 10 years since I had been back to these museums. They are vast, overwhelming and humbling. It's mind boggling to consider the papacy's collection of art. The Sistine Chapel is still going strong, constantly mobbed with hoards and hoards of people. The booming voice of a guard calling SILENCIO is still echoing around in my brain.

Thursday was a two-part Caravaggio day. In the morning we had a classroom session to set up the polemics regarding this artist. In the afternoon we actually attended the Caravaggio show currently held here in Rome. Caravaggio has become such a household name that crowds are waiting outside this exhibit for hours everyday just to get in - fortunately we had made a group arrangement two months ago and got to breeze right in. The collection was fantastic - the figures in Caravaggio's paintings seem to breathe and move across the surface of the canvas. The dramatic lighting allowed the bodies to almost protrude into the space of the viewer. I think Caravaggio would probably have been pleased.

On Friday morning, I arranged a special treat. Sister Margaret, of Sta. Cecilia in Trastevere (my church, if you haven't been following along) took me and my professors into the Cappella del Bagno - the area of the church where it was believed that Saint Cecilia was initially boiled. She then took us down into the scavi (excavations) below to see the remains of the Roman insula (apartment block) underneath. This was believed to incorporate Cecilia's home. She allowed us to go all the way to the crypt. I actually got to see the sarcophagus where the remains of the saint are believed to be kept. Of the areas we got to see, only the scavi are open to the public. Sister Margaret was so good to us.

I don't usually narrate a week's activities, but this last one was so rich, yet so exhausting that it seemed appropriate to share. No doubt, it will not be the last of such experiences. We can only hope. Speriamo!