May 3, 2024
Fifteen minutes is not enough time in the Sistine Chapel.
I’m not blaming the good folks at “Skip the Line Tours.” Our tour guide Shak . . . pronounced “Shark” without the “r” . . . a delightful young woman from Sienna whose parents immigrated to Italy from Uzbekistan, was a wealth of information and very entertaining.
But one of my problems with this damn Parky’s is that if I look up repeatedly or for a long time, my world starts to spin out of control. Unless there is something to hold onto . . .and Cathy can’t always be my wingman in the crowd . . . I’m like Maverick in a flat spin going out to sea.
Talk to me Goose.
As a general rule, ceilings are not my friend. I got whirly spotting for Cathy when she was up on a ladder painting her porch the week before we left. So, unless I had a cheatsheet, binoculars, a snack and a cot on wheels from which to look, no amount of time would be enough for me in the Sistine Chapel.
Still, I think I would have liked Michelangelo. He was a notorious grouch who had no patience for dimwits who could not understand his genius. And he often used his art to mock them. Take this unfortunate fella.
In the lower right corner of his fresco The Last Judgment on the East wall of the Chapel, Michelangelo depicted a man in real hell, ostensibly Minos, judge of the dead. If you look, you can see why I say HELL. That’s H-E-double hockey sticks hell.
Ouch. Talk about snake bitten.
Apparently, ol’ Minos bore an uncany resemblance to Biagio da Cesena, the Pope’s Master of Ceremonies who was always bitching about Michelangelo’s portrayal of Biblical characters in the buff. So, Michelangelo had a little fun. When Biagio complained to the Pope that he might be forever remembered as the guy with a snake chomping on Mr. Happy, ol’ Paul the Third laughed him off by saying that since Biagio was already consigned to hell, the matter was beyond his jurisdiction.
Or, how about his depiction of God, decreeing the creation of the sun and the moon, then mooning us all as he scurries off to get to work on Adam and Eve.
I love this guy.
For nonbelievers such as Cathy and myself, the Vatican is a mixed message. We understand and respect other’s faith and how moving this place must be to our friends raised in the Church. Even as nonbelievers, you can’t help but look at the Pieta and be moved for a mother’s loss of her lost son.
But grandeur such as this, awe inspiring as it is, leaves me uneasy. The Vatican Museum is hall upon hall of priceless art treasures that as recently as 1932 were kept in the Papal apartments, not open to public viewing, for only the higher-ups to enjoy. Many of them were commissioned by Popes for their personal pleasure; many simply taken from others. This is an unsettling reminder that privilege comes with power that too often comes from wealth.’
I get that “Upon this rock I will build my church” but I’m not sure the Big Guy had such grandiose splendor in mind. Might just be me, but the message might have been lost during home improvements.
That said, I must say, that one of the most moving . . . and I mean moving . . . art works we saw was not a Michelangelo, not high Renaissance frescos or Ancient Greek sculptures, but a modern work, the Sfera Con Sfera in the Courtyard of the Pinecone.
It is a 13′ bronze sculpture by Arnoldo Polmodoro, now 97-years-old, one of many such spheres throughout the world, including the Vatican, Trinity College in Dublin, and even at the de Young in our own San Francisco.
It shows the fractured world in which we live, but a sphere within the sphere symbolizing man’s constant effort to mend the broken world about him. It was particularly “moving” when Shak stepped over the cordon and with some effort set the giant globe spinning in place.
Nice thought, Arnoldo. One man can move the world. We just have to get out of the way and help push.
"Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost" 