Grant us Peace

From the first time I - we, when I was a 'we' girl - entered the cloisters of medieval Lincoln Cathedral in my Denis' home town, I was smitten.  After the transcendant space of the church we entered this place of ancient silence. Early English Gothic. I suspect I am not alone in this feeling. Just this afternoon I FB posted a couple of photos of the cloisters at the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence, and was surprised at the response.

Definitions for a cloister are somewhat prosaic. Britannica, for example offers this: "a quadrilateral enclosure surrounded by covered walkways, and usually attached to a monastic or cathedral church..."  "A covered walkway with a colonnade on one side." "A covered walk, open gallery, or open arcade running along the walls of buildings and forming a quadrangle or garth" (new word.) 

Those of us who have experienced a cloister can do better.

Perhaps a cloister is not about what we can see, but what we feel. Peace in sacred nature. I'm just going to post and enjoy a few of these spaces now. And see if I can figure it out. And in doing so, and revisiting these tranquil spaces, to find tranquility in our turbulent time.

This lovely space is at the Byzantine church of Sant'Appolinaire in Classe, Ravenna. For years I had longed to see that city's miraculous Byzantine  mosaics, and in 2023 I did. 

Then a bit of cloister to rest the eyes, cleanse the palate as it were, from such rich fare.

Florence's San Lorenzo, parish church of the Medici family,  provides a welcome refuge from the insanely busy streets within its late 15th century cloister, Chiostro dei Canonici, the Cloister of the Canons. No-one should let Brunelleschi's unfinished facade deter further exploration, because within the huge complex is an exquisite Renaissance church, the  Mannerist Laurentian Library with Michelangelo's dynamic staircase and the wonders of the Old Sacristy and the Medici Chapels. One day, when I'm up to it, I'll post about my visit. 

But back to the cloister. Truly, a visitor to San Lorenzo needs to repair to this green space occasionally to calm the senses, still the heart. And settle the mind, which is invited to time travel the long history. San Lorenzo is the oldest church in Florence, consecrated in 393 and rebuilt by Brunelleschi in 1419. The rough facade was to be completed by Michelangelo, sheathed in white marble, but funding failed. This is not uncommon. Santa Croce's marble facade was completed in the 1860s, the well-known marble front of the Duomo in 1887 (what did we know?) 

A place of sanctuary and stillness, meditation and contemplation, gentle perambulation. A pause for breath in a busy city and a busy world.

Even this image has a way of calming my coffee and news nerves.

To conclude, I will settle into my favourite cloisters, those of Santa Croce, an immensely important 'state church', resting place of the famous and wealthy, who commissioned astonishing chapels. Those layers of history and devotion create a sumptuous and important interior (which I fully absorbed thanks to an enthralling audio tour). But exhausting, right?

Spent lovely lonely time at the Renaissance gem, the Pazzi Chapel. Its simplicity and order creates awe and stillness simultanously. I still can't believe I was there, had longed for that moment forever. 

 But still, nature needed.

 Cloister drill. 

There's some good history here, which I will leave for you because I, for once, am without words.

Face Time

A look at some church facades this afternoon has sent me down a rabbit hole. Does this church intrigue you as much as it does me? You might have noticed it on my blog home page, backgrounding the Bernini sculpture for which the blog is named. This is Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. It's a Dominican church consecrated in 1370. It was built over a temple dedicated to Isis (wrongly called Minerva, hence the 'sopra.') 

It's a Gothic church, the only one in Rome according to this Wikipedia article. It doesn't appear there are too many Gothic churches in Florence and Rome. I suppose most of them were renovated, overdecorated with Baroque enthusiasm that only popes could muster during the triumphant Counter-Reformation. I read that plain little Sopra Minerva acquired some Baroque bling, and some interior fitting which was later removed.  

I've been puzzling about this little beauty for some time. In a city of dramatic Baroque churches, this plain little facade (called Renaissance in one article) is so appealing. But as we know, churches typically evolved over time, or even have complete facelifts, or don't get finished at all, long after they're first consecrated. I came across this interesting article in the Liturgical Arts Journal which provides alternate facades for Sopra Minerva, one of the likely original (photo manipulation) and the drawing for the proposed Baroque facelift (yuck.) Perhaps I should leave the last word on Sopra Minerva, to that august assembly.

San Giovanni in Bragora, Venice

Sopra Minerva endears me to it in the same way that this little dear in Venice, San Giovanni in Bragora does. It was founded in 8th century, receiving this plain brick Gothic facade around 1500. I did a post about its impact on me last May. 

Another intesting discovery from this bit of research. When you think of Gothic churches, you likely think of pointy arched soaring stained glass places like Notre Dame in Paris. Somewhere (better citation advisable) I read that high Gothic was never popular in Italy. Milan Cathedral might have been an exception, although two that I have visited, Orvieto and Siena , are Italian Gothic blended with Byzantine and Romanesque elements. And the incomparable St. Mark's Basilica in Venice is a dizzying combination of Byzantine, Gothic and Romanesque. The upper church of the Basilica of St. Francis of  Assisi, which I visited with my guy in 1995 and again with a congenial group in 2023 is also a Gothic church, with Romanesque features. 

Here are some 1995 travel snaps.

Siena Cathedral consecrated 1215 (medieval)

Orvieto Cathedral (construction begun 1290 - Gothic)

Oh, here's an Italian Gothic Architecture article (you're not still reading this, are you?)  It has a photo of the magnificent Milan Cathedral, a more typical Gothic church. In Northern Italy, I suppose it was easier to be influenced by the splendid light and verticality of churches in France.

Denis pondering in front of the Baptistery in Padua, 1995
To his right, the unfinished Padua Cathedral

And on a final note, the matter of unfinished facades. As the histories of many of these great cathedrals tell me, they evolved, with style changes, brand new ideas, or financial issues. 

San Lorenzo

This one, the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence, never got its facelift (I mentioned it in this post last year) although there were grand plans afoot. The rough stone was the perfect spot to attach sheets of coloured marble. Which  is what happened in the 19th century when the marvellous iconic facades of Florence's Santa Maria del Fiore (the 'Duomo') and Santa Croce were finally completed. 

Santa Maria del Fiore - facade completed 1887

Santa Croce - facade completed 1865

Lost in Time

 

I'm still lost, honestly.

I spent one long October afternoon, guided and solo, wandering the Roman forum, trying to find myself. 

During my week in Rome I made several trips along Via Fori Imperiale, with the outstanding viewpoints looking down on the Forum. I thought I was getting oriented, spotting some favourites.

Then with our clever guide, we time travelled a long hot afternoon, storm clouds and sun duelling for control.

By way of orienting myself from this new vantage point I kept track of my daily landmarks, sticking up above this ancient place, layers of time: the flamboyant white Victor Emmanuel II monument with its rooftop horses, and the yellow brick Capitoline Museums, to which I later time travelled via narrow brick stairs up from the Forum to Michelangelo's magnificent square.

I am a history nerd; I expect eventually to figure out the chronology of eras, if I try hard enough. Today for example I've been digging back into the succession of English kings and queens, prompted by a video series about the royal art collections I stumbled upon on BBC Select this week. I've lost my head over Charles I and his passion for collecting.

But back to the problem at hand. The forum So many layers. The buildings of this one forum alone span 1400 years, of kingdom, republic and empire.

The foundations of medieval buildings don't clear the picture at all. They pop up everywhere, built among and with the stones of the ruins. Perhaps one day we'll dig deeper?

Maybe I should just be satisfied by recognizing a few favourites.

 Like the Arch of Titus, photo awkwardly composed to obliterate a few hundred of us gawpers.

Like San Lorenzo in Miranda (below) a Baroque church of the early 1600s built inside the columns of the second century temple of deified Roman emperor and empress Antonius and Faustina.

There's a nice seventeenth century painting of the scene on this site. It reminds us that the area was then called 'campo vaccino', used as pasture for livestock. No respect. And the 17 metre high marble columns and attic did survive the plunder of so many nearby structures as a result of that church adopting the site.

It all became a bit clearer when we made our way up the long stairs to Palatine Hill, pausing a moment to enjoy the garden. From the edge of the hill, we looked down on all that astonishing history, and it became a bit clearer. Perspective.

So, I am still lost. But maybe I should just be satisfied that I got to be there, sitting on a wall in the heat, looking about me. So many layers. Makes my little worries about big events transpiring in January 2025 seem insignificant indeed. Perspective is indeed everything. 

This fine little Smart History video explains the confusion in 7.2 entertaining minutes.