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I'm afraid I'm not much on "Favorite Churches," our theme for this issue. I've thought and thought about it but am not making much headway. In the meantime, I'd like to share what artist Michael Brady, an old pal who's lived abroad for the past 30 years, had to say about the article in our Jan/Feb issue on Renaissance painter Artemisia Gentileschi:
"I especially enjoyed the article about the woman painter, Gentileschi. I've seen some of her work at the Met though I never really paid too much attention to it. That's my loss, as I would now enjoy seeing one of her paintings. As long as art exists, Italian artists will be standing in front of the line. For me, their work is so good, particularly by today's standards, that I am inclined to think that they came from another planet. And it's such a paradox that in an age where you were old at 30, these people worked as though time was no object. And today, when we go till 100, time is money, and we haven't even the patience to do it right and well one time...and wouldn't know how to, either. And I don't think I speak only for myself. But, in apology and to be fair, I don't think we can work that way, any more than we can imitate their handwriting. And I have often heard artists claim that even if they could paint like that, they wouldn't. I always cringe and laugh when I hear that, yet recognize that there is some truth to what they say, although I don't know why. Maybe I am totally brainwashed by modern life." I totally agree with Mike. I've always thought the artists and craftsmen of Italy to be a world apart, and that goes for all the arts. The Italians seem to go a step further in their thinking and creating and designing, giving just that little bit more of imagination and originality to their work. Maybe they are from another planet. You know, I suddenly realized that I did indeed have a favorite church when I lived in Rome...but it wasn't just the architecture or artworks that made me love going to Sant'Andrea delle Valle. What really lured me there was that the great Giacomo Puccini set the first act of his Tosca there. |
| The church stands on Corso Vittorio and tiny Piazza Vidoni which, I'm sad to hear, is little more than an urban parking lot today. I lived right up the block from it back then and often went to visit when I knew the church would be virtually empty. In the cool quiet, I'd walk around in Floria Tosca's footsteps, listening to the music in my head, pausing dreamily at the side of the altar where she comes upon her lover, Mario, as he is painting the face of a beautiful blue-eyed blond woman. I would imagine I could hear him reassuring the jealous Tosca of his undying love...and then her response that he should at least change the blue eyes to the dark color of her own flashing occhi neri. I would move to the back of the church and follow my heroine down the wide aisle as she sings piously with the choir, her beautiful voice soaring out over all the others with religious fervor...completely unaware of the lewd, far-from-pious stare of cruel, sensual Scarpia, swaggering along in the solemn church procession amid the bowed heads of innocent choirboys. I would imagine him passing by the pews filled with praying churchgoers, and hear him muttering over and over, "Ah, Tosca," as his desire for the beautiful Floria takes control for a few moments, causing him to forget God and all that is holy. |  Sant'Andrea della Valle photo by Grzegorz Galazka |
| Well, well, well...I've suddenly remembered another favorite church of mine, Rome's San Pietro in Vincoli (off Via Cavour). It houses what must be one of the greatest masterpieces on the planet, Michelangelo's Moses. Back about a hundred years ago, I spent many a morning contemplating that wonderful sculpture--and quite undisturbed as well, because there were very seldom more than a couple of people in the church. I've really surprised myself. I was sure I didn't have any favorite churches and two of them unexpectedly resurrected themselves in my mind. I bet if I thought about it for a while, I'd come up with a few more, too. |  |
Rosemary Torigian, Los Angeles
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