By 5:30PM I found myself bolting out the computer lab in the Rome Center, flying down the stairs and directly into the evening chaos of the Campo de’ Fiori. I dug around in my bag while I was speed-walking towards my apartment building, listening carefully for the jingling of eight keys. Ah ha! Found them. I hastily pulled them out and jammed one of the keys into the keyhole of the front door and kicked it open. The door had a tendency to get stuck. I swiftly ran up the treacherous eight flights of stairs leading to the comforts of my apartment room. Apartment #8.
I dashed through the kitchen and the living room and finally landed in my room. Dumped my laptop onto my bed, changed my shoes, grabbed my keys and bolted out the door once again, with barely enough time to shout “see ya!” to my roommate. It was my last full day in Rome, and I still had a whole list of gifts to buy for family and friends, and it was also approaching 6:00PM. I really hope the stores don’t close soon…Why did I put this off until the last minute?!
As I stormed out into the Campo once again, I created a mental schedule of all the places I needed to go for gifts. Too bad there isn’t enough time to visit all the other sights I want to one last time, too... I wasn’t exactly certain how fast I was walking, but it probably could have been comparable to that of a bullet train – it felt like I was walking as if I was on fire, shooting down the sidewalk, dodging everything and anyone in my path. However, I was brought to an abrupt halt at a busy intersection where it would have been reckless of me to try to cross it with the light red flashing. So, I waited. Reluctantly.
Because I was so intent on crossing the street as quickly as possible, I didn’t automatically notice the woman who had approached me with a map. She turned to me and asked for directions to the Trevi Fountain in Italian. At first I was extremely surprised because here I was, clearly an Asian girl who did not resemble a European woman at all, being asked directions as if I were a native Roman. It was quite flattering, but even as excited as I was about her question, I still felt the need to quickly check behind me, just incase she was really trying to get the attention of the person behind me. Nope, no one else there -- she was definitely asking me for directions.
Once the woman realized she had my undivided attention, she asked me again how to get to the Trevi Fountain in Italian. My mind was racing – I definitely knew how to get to the Trevi but I just couldn’t describe it in Italian. I tried to recollect anything Costanza, my Italian teacher, had taught us about giving directions in the previous class. Nothing; I was blanking, which was disappointing because I was excited to use my Italian to help someone. So instead, I resorted to the next best thing: Parla Inglese? Do you speak English? She answered yes.
She was not the most fluent in English, which was evident because I had an especially difficult time understanding her question about a second location, and consequently couldn’t give her a sufficient answer. I did the best I could in explaining the route to the Trevi, using her map as a tool. However, I knew she didn’t fully understand what I was talking about by her confused expression and replies, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt to walk her to the Trevi since I was headed that direction anyway.
On the way, I learned she was from Brazil, and she was in Rome on vacation with her mother. However her mother wasn’t with her at the moment because she was tired and was resting back at the hotel. I told her I was a student from America studying in Rome. She thought it was great that such opportunities were offered to students. We continued with the small talk until we reached the Trevi. Upon our arrival, she thanked me, and we exchanged arrivederci.
It was quarter till 7:00PM and my shopping list was not any shorter. But it didn’t matter because I was happy I was able to help the Brazilian woman. It was a small price to pay for another great story and memory to share.
This was my last adventure in Rome, and one that will probably stay with me forever because it contrasts so greatly to my first day in Rome and some of the difficulties I faced while trying to fit in. Before this trip, I remember chuckling to myself as I imagined someone asking me for directions because it seemed like such an unlikely event – never in a million years did I think it would happen. But it did! By the end of five weeks, I knew my way around the city as if it were a second home, and it seemed as if others, even complete strangers, could see that as well – I looked like I lived in Rome and was no longer a tourist. I was a Roman at last.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
CW #10: The Pantheon
I walked into the Pantheon at three different times of the day – once at 8:30am, when the doors first open, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening, around the time the Pantheon closes. During each visit, I was amazed by how the time of day made each a unique experience. However, my 8:30am visit was the most rewarding.Only in Rome would I have pried myself out of bed at the crack of dawn to visit one of the city’s most splendid monuments. I sat on the steps of the fountain facing the Pantheon, waiting for the giant doors to magically open. It was now 8:32am and nothing was happening. Had I misheard the time it opens? And then, I saw one of the massive doors slowly crack open. I stood up, almost slipping on a step from my anticipation and excitement. A little old woman peeped her head through the crack and began to pull and push the heavy metal doors. It was like watching a little boy trying to push a massive boulder. What an interesting yet unusual spectacle.
It felt strange being one of the first to be inside the Pantheon because I was so used to a mass of people taking pictures and the loud inaudible conversations that would overwhelm the Pantheon experience during mid-day. I wasn’t suffocating for the first time, like I was during my afternoon and evening visits. Instead, I felt calm and at peace.
The very first thing I noticed when I stepped inside in the morning was the array of colorful marble surrounding the interior, and the incredible symmetry. It’s more difficult to notice such details during the day and evening when there isn’t a single spot where I can simply enjoy what the Pantheon has to offer. In the afternoon, all I see is a sea of heads. In the evening, things are slower, but it’s just too dark inside to truly appreciate all the magnificent detail. So, now that I had the unique opportunity to really see the Pantheon, I sat down on a bench for a while and stared, taking notes on the interior grandeur. The experience in the morning is more personal.
The morning light shining through the oculus caught my eye – a central focus. My eyes were drawn to a single, perfect circle, settled towards the top of the ceiling. It reminded me of the moon. I didn’t have to squint, or shade my eyes when I looked directly into the light because it wasn’t blinding bright, like during the afternoon, or barely noticeable like around the time the Pantheon closes.
It was refreshing being able to freely explore every corner of the Pantheon right as it opened without having to squeeze past tour group after tour group. And for once, I could hear the loud echo of my shoes squeaking as I walked across the empty marble floor.
CW #9: Grocery Shopping
Checking-out in a Roman grocery store was a stressful experience.
I stood in front of Despar, the neighborhood grocery store. Starring at it quizzically, surprised at how anyone could locate this place because it resembled all the other stores on its block – just another rectangular section cut out of the side of a building. No elaborate sign or marker to identify this place as a grocery store, except for its name posted above the glass doors. It’s completely different from the gigantic Safeway’s and QFC’s, where one would have to be downright oblivious to miss.
I walked into Despar, but I wasn’t greeted by a train of grocery carts. Instead, I saw a neat stack of red baskets, similar to the ones at home, except they had an incredibly long, black handle folded over to one side. Interestingly enough, I discovered it was used to tug the basket behind me as I shopped, like a child pulling his most treasured little red wagon. I chuckled; it was creative.
After filling my red basket full of goodies, I headed towards the cash registers and stood in line.
I was next –
I watched as the lady in front of me stacked her basket on top of the empty ones and placed her items on the narrow black conveyor belt. I made a mental note to follow the same procedure. The clerk rang up the lady’s items and quickly told her the price in Italian. Crap, my Italian isn’t that good yet… Next, I saw the clerk grab a single plastic bag from underneath the counter and toss it on top of the lady’s groceries. That’s strange…only one plastic bag? The lady bagged her own groceries. Hm, no baggers?
My turn –
I stacked my groceries on the conveyor belt neatly. They gradually moved closer to the clerk as the belt moved – like a boat making its way to the opening of a deep dark cave. The clerk scanned my items quickly and tossed them to the other side of her, treating them like dirty laundry. I was taken aback – couldn’t she have been more gentle? She then quickly told me the price in Italian, which I caught bits of but still starred at her blankly. She looked frustrated and annoyed as she turned the scanner with the price on it so I could read it. I took out a 50 Euro bill and handed it to her. She snatched it out of my hand hastily and insisted that I give her change. Coins, that is. So, I unzipped my wallet, and right as I emptied the coins into my hand, the clerk scooped them out of mine and into her own. Was she really in that much of a rush that she wouldn’t even allow the customer to count her own coins? What was I? Just another incompetent tourist? I brushed it off and gave her the benefit of the doubt – maybe she was having a particularly bad day… She returned the extra coins and set the rest of my change and receipt down onto the counter. I barely had enough time to stuff my money back into my wallet before she proceeded to scan the items of the next customer. I looked over at the pile of groceries that I still had to pack into one single plastic bag before they were overlapped by the next customer’s items. I felt panicked. Here I was, trying my best to fit into the Roman culture, but instead, I looked like a silly tourist who couldn’t even bag her own groceries at a quick enough pace. I clumsily shoved them into the plastic bag. How is this a convenient procedure to check out? I felt overwhelmed and pressured to get out of there as fast as I could.
My first experience at Despar was indeed traumatic, but as the weeks passed, I became more and more accustomed to the routine in a Roman grocery store. I could easily slip in and out, without receiving a nasty glare from the clerks. In fact, when I was at Despar towards the end of my stay in Rome, I remember standing in line behind a helpless tourist and his family who were getting lectured by the clerk because they didn’t know they had to print out a price sticker for their bananas. I could only stand there and smile because it was not too long ago that I was once struggling with the Roman check-out procedure.
I stood in front of Despar, the neighborhood grocery store. Starring at it quizzically, surprised at how anyone could locate this place because it resembled all the other stores on its block – just another rectangular section cut out of the side of a building. No elaborate sign or marker to identify this place as a grocery store, except for its name posted above the glass doors. It’s completely different from the gigantic Safeway’s and QFC’s, where one would have to be downright oblivious to miss.
I walked into Despar, but I wasn’t greeted by a train of grocery carts. Instead, I saw a neat stack of red baskets, similar to the ones at home, except they had an incredibly long, black handle folded over to one side. Interestingly enough, I discovered it was used to tug the basket behind me as I shopped, like a child pulling his most treasured little red wagon. I chuckled; it was creative.
After filling my red basket full of goodies, I headed towards the cash registers and stood in line.
I was next –
I watched as the lady in front of me stacked her basket on top of the empty ones and placed her items on the narrow black conveyor belt. I made a mental note to follow the same procedure. The clerk rang up the lady’s items and quickly told her the price in Italian. Crap, my Italian isn’t that good yet… Next, I saw the clerk grab a single plastic bag from underneath the counter and toss it on top of the lady’s groceries. That’s strange…only one plastic bag? The lady bagged her own groceries. Hm, no baggers?
My turn –
I stacked my groceries on the conveyor belt neatly. They gradually moved closer to the clerk as the belt moved – like a boat making its way to the opening of a deep dark cave. The clerk scanned my items quickly and tossed them to the other side of her, treating them like dirty laundry. I was taken aback – couldn’t she have been more gentle? She then quickly told me the price in Italian, which I caught bits of but still starred at her blankly. She looked frustrated and annoyed as she turned the scanner with the price on it so I could read it. I took out a 50 Euro bill and handed it to her. She snatched it out of my hand hastily and insisted that I give her change. Coins, that is. So, I unzipped my wallet, and right as I emptied the coins into my hand, the clerk scooped them out of mine and into her own. Was she really in that much of a rush that she wouldn’t even allow the customer to count her own coins? What was I? Just another incompetent tourist? I brushed it off and gave her the benefit of the doubt – maybe she was having a particularly bad day… She returned the extra coins and set the rest of my change and receipt down onto the counter. I barely had enough time to stuff my money back into my wallet before she proceeded to scan the items of the next customer. I looked over at the pile of groceries that I still had to pack into one single plastic bag before they were overlapped by the next customer’s items. I felt panicked. Here I was, trying my best to fit into the Roman culture, but instead, I looked like a silly tourist who couldn’t even bag her own groceries at a quick enough pace. I clumsily shoved them into the plastic bag. How is this a convenient procedure to check out? I felt overwhelmed and pressured to get out of there as fast as I could.
My first experience at Despar was indeed traumatic, but as the weeks passed, I became more and more accustomed to the routine in a Roman grocery store. I could easily slip in and out, without receiving a nasty glare from the clerks. In fact, when I was at Despar towards the end of my stay in Rome, I remember standing in line behind a helpless tourist and his family who were getting lectured by the clerk because they didn’t know they had to print out a price sticker for their bananas. I could only stand there and smile because it was not too long ago that I was once struggling with the Roman check-out procedure.
CW #16: Two Cloisters, Two Stories
Santi Quattro CoronatiIt was tucked away inside a plain church with barred windows and located on top of a hill. I’m reminded of a prison. Who would have guessed a unique, beautiful, and serene place existed inside?
To enter the cloister, I must ring the doorbell and wait for the nun to let me in.
A fountain sits comfortably in the center of the cloister, surrounded by patches of well-kept grass and a pool that catches the water gently trickling out of each of the four water spouts protruding from the fountain’s sides. It’s far from grandiose; a plain, white fountain, really; nothing compared to the detailed décor of the Trevi Fountain. However, the sound of dripping water was still what I heard first when I walked through the doors. I could also hear the gravel crunching beneath my shoes as I walked. I almost thought I would disturb the peace that enveloped us.
This cloister reminded me of the comforts of my room back in Seattle. It’s a place I could come back to over and over again because I could easily image myself sitting in between one of the many arches that outline the rectangular space for hours upon hours -- curled up like a fat cat taking a nap. Doing nothing, relaxing. I lost track of time. The stillness and tranquility of the atmosphere is calming, like a ripple-less puddle. The exact environment I thrive in when I need to think or ease my mind. I’m in another realm, unaware of the world outside. Isolated. It was refreshing being able to step out of the chaos of Rome. I look up and I see the bright blue sky painted with fluffy white clouds, and the sun casted on just half of the coral precinct walls. Color surrounds me.
San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane
The church is located on the corner of a busy street. It has an ornate façade -- columns and statues in niches, and steps that invite me inside. From a distance, it looks like the front of the church is wavy. I’m reminded of a banner blowing in the wind.
I invite myself into the cloister, hidden at the back of the church.
I walk inside and am unimpressed right off the bat. But maybe it’s because I’ve already been spoiled by the beautiful and tranquil cloister of Santi Quattro Coronati. No. Really, this cloister is extremely plain and cramped. I feel unwelcomed – like stepping into an empty, cold unfurnished house. I could never imagine myself spending time here because it doesn’t inspire me. The high round arches and the small details that encompass the area are pretty, but they feel like skyscrapers towering over me.
I’m not sure what is in the center of the cloister. Could it have been a well? Or is it just there for decoration? And there’s a random door in the wall. What could be behind it? Everything about this cloister feels like a mystery.
I step out, and all I’m left with is an image of white.
CW #8: A Caravaggio Experience
I was roaming around the gallery of Palazzo Barberini, admiring the amazing collection, when I came across Caravaggio’s “Judith Beheading Holofernes” unexpectedly. The painting was enormous! Even though it was sandwiched between two other Caravaggio’s, I noticed my focus was directed more towards “Judith Beheading Holofernes” because of its enormous size and explicit scene. To some degree, I felt like it overpowered the two paintings next to it, forcing the viewer to draw their attention to “Judith Beheading Holofernes” by default.At first glance, I do not know what to think of the violence Caravaggio depicts in this particular painting. Judith is the first character that I notice because of her white blouse and the fair skin of her neck and arms, which are the two aspects most prominent against the dark background. I follow her arms next, curious to see what she is doing with them as they are extended straight out. I notice her forearm muscles are well-defined – she must be using them. As soon as my gaze reaches her hands, I see her gripping the handle of an object. What could it be? At that moment, I’m not sure what she is holding, but I know I’ve reached an important part of the scene. My eyes land on Holoferne’s face and the terrified, death-like look in his eyes and then the stream of blood gushing from his neck. All at once. Then the sword. Judith is decapitating him. It is almost too unbearable to see such a gruesome sight. I cringe. But what surprises me the most is when I look over to the right-hand side of the painting, specifically at Judith. She has a cool, collected facial expression. Perhaps she feels no remorse for her actions? However, I also sense hesitation in her eyes, and even disgust, but overall, she fails to look fierce or frightened, a reaction I think would be more appropriate considering she is the midst of murdering a man. Based on these observations, I expect Judith made it her duty to slay Holofernes. She despises him with such passion that she planned her attack and completes it with great success because she had a sense of purpose. The folds in her dress and the way her body is positioned illustrate movement, as if Caravaggio captured her right after she spun around to attack Holofernes.
I know Holofernes was caught off guard because he is in bed half-naked and his mouth hangs open. It also looks as if he is in the midst of propping himself up, based on the placement of his hand, but Judith got to him with her sword first. The position of his eyes and facial expression is also significant. I associate Holofernes’s upward stare to Heaven and God. He is a dying man, and so it makes sense that he is looking up to Heaven, searching for an answer, an explanation for his end, his final plea for help.
What’s even more interesting about this painting is the facial expression and body language of the old woman standing next to Judith. Although I associate her as a woman of low social status because of the type of clothes she is wearing and the dirt that appears to be on them, I know she is important and is connected with Judith in some aspect because she stands beside Judith, watching her as she murders a man. The woman does nothing to stop Judith. She is focused on the violence Judith is committing and holds nothing against Judith’s actions. The determination, excitement, eagerness, and attention as she watches Judith are reflected in her eyes. She clutches onto her dress or apron, like a child grabbing hold of her blanket as she’s attentively waiting to see what happens next in the movie. In a sense, the old woman’s body language and expression makes me feel like she wants Holofernes dead more than Judith does. Could she be the one who actually convinced Judith to slay Holofernes?
CW #2: Next Stop -- Roma!
I wasn’t even aware they had served breakfast during my flight – I was passed out like a rock. Exhaustion had swept over me like an unexpected rainstorm in Seattle. I slept through the majority of my flight from Paris to Rome, but it wasn’t the best sleep.
A sharp pain piercing the inside of my left ear caused me to wake up before landing. Great…My ears were severely plugged up. Never had it ever been this horrible -- I could hardly hear my own voice as I spoke. I tried to ignore the pain and fall back asleep, but I couldn’t, even though my eyelids felt as heavy as a pile of bricks. My discomfort level was incredibly high and yet I felt helpless. The only remedy I could think of was to endure the pain, massage my ear and continue to swallow and yawn, in hopes that my ear would eventually clear itself up…What a way to enter Rome.
After finally landing and getting off the plane, the pain in my left ear subsided, but it was still plugged. Terrific, I was half deaf.
Mark and I arrived in Rome together, along with two other friends. We took a charter bus from the airport to Termini -- my first ride in Rome. It didn’t feel like I was in a foreign country yet because the interior of the bus looked familiar and I was riding with three of my friends. It was all too reminiscent of home.
It wasn’t until I had to part with our two friends at Termini that the huge comfortable bubble I found myself residing in during the past week in Paris popped – the last bit of home just left. However, I had only a second to worry myself with such thoughts because Mark and I had to make sure we arrived at the Rome Center before check-in closed.
Marching through Termini while I was delirious from sleep deprivation and intense hunger made the experience and Termini even more intimidating. Half the time I was practically running just to keep up with Mark and nervous about not being able to check into our apartments and consequently, didn’t pay any attention to directions or take the time to soak in my first glimpse of Roman life. Termini and its chaos were a blur of colors. Meanwhile, the other half of me tried to make myself invisible from the potential pickpockets, clutching onto my belongings as tightly as I could, walking briskly and keeping my eyes peeled for anything suspicious-looking. I tried not to stick out like a sore thumb – like the bulls eye in target practice.
When Mark and I finally made our way out of Termini and towards the taxi waiting area, the only things running through my head were Lisa’s words of caution about “fake” taxi drivers trying to lure gullible tourists by asking them if they wanted a taxi ride. Coincidentally, I saw a man who fell under that exact description right as I walked out, and it made me nervous because I wasn’t sure if he was going to be aggressive about offering us a ride or not. At first, it looked as if that was the case because he followed us, but Mark and I avoided eye contact with the stranger and ignored him. Eventually a trustworthy-looking taxi approached us and we got in. We told him we wanted to go to the Campo de’ Fiori Hotel. He started driving, and I began to feel a little more relaxed.
Seeing Rome for the first time from the backseat of a taxi wasn’t the most glamorous introduction, but it provided me with a quick glimpse of where I would be living the next five weeks. One of the very first things I noticed was how aggressive and fearless the drivers were, especially when the streets were incredibly narrow and crowded. Cars weaved in and out agilely and quickly, like my grandma moving her knitting needles as she knits a sweater. And even though my left ear was still plugged, I could distinctly hear the loud rattling of the entire car as it raced along the cobblestone road. Then, without warning, I remember shooting out from one of the alleyways and onto the main street. And that’s when I saw it – my first Roman monument. It was huge! Like a perfect castle in a fairytale. The front was lined with a row of columns, and large statues of men on horses stood proudly throughout the monument. I barely had enough time to process what I had just seen as we zoomed past it. I turned my head towards the back window of the taxi and let my eyes trace the outline of the monument before it was out of my view. Afterwards, I felt excited because if the rest of Rome was going to be full of such grand unexpected sights, I knew I was in for a treat.
A sharp pain piercing the inside of my left ear caused me to wake up before landing. Great…My ears were severely plugged up. Never had it ever been this horrible -- I could hardly hear my own voice as I spoke. I tried to ignore the pain and fall back asleep, but I couldn’t, even though my eyelids felt as heavy as a pile of bricks. My discomfort level was incredibly high and yet I felt helpless. The only remedy I could think of was to endure the pain, massage my ear and continue to swallow and yawn, in hopes that my ear would eventually clear itself up…What a way to enter Rome.
After finally landing and getting off the plane, the pain in my left ear subsided, but it was still plugged. Terrific, I was half deaf.
Mark and I arrived in Rome together, along with two other friends. We took a charter bus from the airport to Termini -- my first ride in Rome. It didn’t feel like I was in a foreign country yet because the interior of the bus looked familiar and I was riding with three of my friends. It was all too reminiscent of home.
It wasn’t until I had to part with our two friends at Termini that the huge comfortable bubble I found myself residing in during the past week in Paris popped – the last bit of home just left. However, I had only a second to worry myself with such thoughts because Mark and I had to make sure we arrived at the Rome Center before check-in closed.
Marching through Termini while I was delirious from sleep deprivation and intense hunger made the experience and Termini even more intimidating. Half the time I was practically running just to keep up with Mark and nervous about not being able to check into our apartments and consequently, didn’t pay any attention to directions or take the time to soak in my first glimpse of Roman life. Termini and its chaos were a blur of colors. Meanwhile, the other half of me tried to make myself invisible from the potential pickpockets, clutching onto my belongings as tightly as I could, walking briskly and keeping my eyes peeled for anything suspicious-looking. I tried not to stick out like a sore thumb – like the bulls eye in target practice.
When Mark and I finally made our way out of Termini and towards the taxi waiting area, the only things running through my head were Lisa’s words of caution about “fake” taxi drivers trying to lure gullible tourists by asking them if they wanted a taxi ride. Coincidentally, I saw a man who fell under that exact description right as I walked out, and it made me nervous because I wasn’t sure if he was going to be aggressive about offering us a ride or not. At first, it looked as if that was the case because he followed us, but Mark and I avoided eye contact with the stranger and ignored him. Eventually a trustworthy-looking taxi approached us and we got in. We told him we wanted to go to the Campo de’ Fiori Hotel. He started driving, and I began to feel a little more relaxed.
Seeing Rome for the first time from the backseat of a taxi wasn’t the most glamorous introduction, but it provided me with a quick glimpse of where I would be living the next five weeks. One of the very first things I noticed was how aggressive and fearless the drivers were, especially when the streets were incredibly narrow and crowded. Cars weaved in and out agilely and quickly, like my grandma moving her knitting needles as she knits a sweater. And even though my left ear was still plugged, I could distinctly hear the loud rattling of the entire car as it raced along the cobblestone road. Then, without warning, I remember shooting out from one of the alleyways and onto the main street. And that’s when I saw it – my first Roman monument. It was huge! Like a perfect castle in a fairytale. The front was lined with a row of columns, and large statues of men on horses stood proudly throughout the monument. I barely had enough time to process what I had just seen as we zoomed past it. I turned my head towards the back window of the taxi and let my eyes trace the outline of the monument before it was out of my view. Afterwards, I felt excited because if the rest of Rome was going to be full of such grand unexpected sights, I knew I was in for a treat.
My Roman Holiday
Everyday Gelato
The scorching sun parades against my back. Beads of sweat roll down the side of my face, my nose. The straps of my bag leave a trail of crisscrosses imprinted across my skin. A refreshing, cool treat sounds appropriate right now. I can taste the flavors already, dancing on my tongue. Yum! The doorway into the gelateria is narrow, only one or two people can squeeze through at a time. I tactfully slip past the crowd of tourists with red straps around their neck and black earphones framing their head. Inside, the gelateria is brightly lit. I’ve stepped into Heaven. All the flavors lined up in pairs, sitting in shiny silver containers. Glistening. But standing in front of so many different delicious flavors is stressful. Do I want fruity or creamy? What two flavors make the best combination? Customer after customer flood the small space, crying out their flavors of choice. The men behind the counter, dressed like gourmet chefs, run back and forth. Back and forth. Quickly filling each cup with a specific order.
The scorching sun parades against my back. Beads of sweat roll down the side of my face, my nose. The straps of my bag leave a trail of crisscrosses imprinted across my skin. A refreshing, cool treat sounds appropriate right now. I can taste the flavors already, dancing on my tongue. Yum! The doorway into the gelateria is narrow, only one or two people can squeeze through at a time. I tactfully slip past the crowd of tourists with red straps around their neck and black earphones framing their head. Inside, the gelateria is brightly lit. I’ve stepped into Heaven. All the flavors lined up in pairs, sitting in shiny silver containers. Glistening. But standing in front of so many different delicious flavors is stressful. Do I want fruity or creamy? What two flavors make the best combination? Customer after customer flood the small space, crying out their flavors of choice. The men behind the counter, dressed like gourmet chefs, run back and forth. Back and forth. Quickly filling each cup with a specific order.
Oh my, what to choose
I want the flavor riso
white and sweet like home
Grocery Store Woes
I’m standing happily in line with a red basket in hand. It’s full of treasures. I’m anxiously waiting, anticipating the Italian way of “checking-out” in a grocery store. Behind, is a woman with bright yellow heels that are thin as pencils. She wears sunglasses the shape of a fly’s eyes. I guess that’s the normal attire for grocery shopping. I gradually stack my groceries on the short, narrow black conveyor belt, treating them like a fragile pyramid of cards. The clerk scans my items, tossing them to the other side like a rag doll. I frown. She hands over a single plastic bag to put all my groceries in. I’m bewildered -- Has she not seen the amount I’m buying? If I were back home, I would have a truckload of plastic bags at my disposal. She shows me the price for my groceries instead of telling me the price, convinced that I’m just another Japanese tourist with no Italian background. I set out a 50 Euro bill. She takes it and demands for change while I’m digging through my wallet for coins. Excuse me. As soon as I have the coins in my hand, she dives in and snatches what she wants. A hunter pouncing on its prey.
I’m standing happily in line with a red basket in hand. It’s full of treasures. I’m anxiously waiting, anticipating the Italian way of “checking-out” in a grocery store. Behind, is a woman with bright yellow heels that are thin as pencils. She wears sunglasses the shape of a fly’s eyes. I guess that’s the normal attire for grocery shopping. I gradually stack my groceries on the short, narrow black conveyor belt, treating them like a fragile pyramid of cards. The clerk scans my items, tossing them to the other side like a rag doll. I frown. She hands over a single plastic bag to put all my groceries in. I’m bewildered -- Has she not seen the amount I’m buying? If I were back home, I would have a truckload of plastic bags at my disposal. She shows me the price for my groceries instead of telling me the price, convinced that I’m just another Japanese tourist with no Italian background. I set out a 50 Euro bill. She takes it and demands for change while I’m digging through my wallet for coins. Excuse me. As soon as I have the coins in my hand, she dives in and snatches what she wants. A hunter pouncing on its prey.
As We Ride Together
Bodies are pressed up against one another. We all fit in a box. I’m overwhelmed by abrupt stops and jerky accelerations. The loud rattling of nuts and bolts and the windows as we roll across the cobblestones. Will this crumble on top of us? People are losing balance, flying into a stranger’s arms. An elbow is digging into my side. Only a miniscule place to call your own. The windows are covered with a thick sheet of fog. It reminds me of fresh winter frost. I inhale the smoke infused in the man’s shirt. I cough. The lavender perfume of the petite woman standing next to me is dizzying. I’m clutching onto my purse, aware of my surroundings, keeping my eyes moving. I’m on the lookout, like an owl turning its head 360 degrees. We’re in a maze of green bars, smothered with dirty fingerprints and sweat. The doors open and I can breathe once more. My lungs expand. Cool, fresh air! But it only lasts for a second. There’s another wave of shoving and tugging. A newborn child is crying to be nursed, and the sharp pain of a pointy heel digging in my toe. How I love Roman transportation.
Campo de’ Fiori Nightlife
As night falls, the atmosphere transforms. The air is lighter, cooler, and breezy, and inaudible conversations last for hours. Trains of restaurants overflow with people sitting under giant canopy umbrellas. I hear the loud echo of silverware knocking against plates. The Campo is a place for people to gather and enjoy each other’s company. They sit on the steps of the statue. Sitting, waiting, wishing. The sound of giggling from a child drinking from the fountain as water erupts from the spout. I see fake designer purse and sunglasses vendors lay their goods on the uneven cobblestones, and flying helicopter-like toys light up the sky. Glowing neon colors. I dare not forget the sounds of the megaphone – every single night there is someone shouting messages I can never understand. And oh the entertainment. The same performers travel to the Campo de’ Fiori. I hear music from a gentle, soothing saxophone player. And a man singing Italian while playing the violin. And sometimes even the uniqueness of the accordion. It’s so different from Seattle.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
CW #1: The Journal
While traveling and exploring Italy, I pictured myself keeping mental notes, capturing moments through photography, and reminding myself of details and observations through written entries. I did not have specific requirements for my journal before buying it – all I wanted was something “pretty” and something that would remind me of Rome. However, the one thing that it could not be was expensive.
I had a mission.
Searching for the perfect journal was more difficult than I expected, mainly because I was not familiar with the city just yet. My initial attempt to find one was unsuccessful but noteworthy. That day, my roommates sent me off with general directions to the bookstore near the Campo de’ Fiori and told me that the store had a red sign. Aside from that, I really wasn’t sure what I was looking for or where I was going. Nevertheless, I thought searching for the bookstore on my own would be a clever way to familiarize myself with the streets around the Campo.
I wandered.
As I walked up and down Vittorio Emanuele alone, passing by shops with foreign names, I felt as though I was being watched and out of place, like the lone bright yellow dandelion in a big green field. It seemed like everyone I passed somehow knew I didn’t fit in with the Italians and was already judging me because I was Asian, wasn’t dressed the way they were, and perhaps didn’t even carry myself the way they do. This was my first time traveling in a foreign country on my own, so these feelings could have arisen due to first-time jitters, but either way, it made me uncomfortable to be out alone. To reduce my uneasiness, I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and kept walking, keeping my eyes peeled to what was ahead and acting like I knew where I was going and had a sense of purpose.
I was the foreigner.
Although I had my sunglasses on, I continued to feel like an outsider. However, I felt more in control because I could see my strangers’ thoughts through their eyes but they couldn’t see mine.
I was invincible.
I never did find the bookstore I was looking for that afternoon, so I ended up purchasing a journal from the Cartoleria Pantheon on my way to the Spanish Steps. It wasn’t the ideal journal, but I was at a point when the need for a journal was more important than finding one that satisfied all my requirements.
I was practical.
The combination of colors, design, and detail may appear to overwhelm the limited surface area of my journal, but I disagree. The size may not appeal to all as it is not particularly big, but it fits in my purse just right. Some may also describe it as “light as a feather”. The pages are lined so my stories will not appear as if they followed a crooked path, and thick enough to absorb the ink from my pen so my memories won’t seep through to the adjacent page. Records of observations during my travels and adventures will find themselves gradually tamed.
I had a mission.
Searching for the perfect journal was more difficult than I expected, mainly because I was not familiar with the city just yet. My initial attempt to find one was unsuccessful but noteworthy. That day, my roommates sent me off with general directions to the bookstore near the Campo de’ Fiori and told me that the store had a red sign. Aside from that, I really wasn’t sure what I was looking for or where I was going. Nevertheless, I thought searching for the bookstore on my own would be a clever way to familiarize myself with the streets around the Campo.
I wandered.
As I walked up and down Vittorio Emanuele alone, passing by shops with foreign names, I felt as though I was being watched and out of place, like the lone bright yellow dandelion in a big green field. It seemed like everyone I passed somehow knew I didn’t fit in with the Italians and was already judging me because I was Asian, wasn’t dressed the way they were, and perhaps didn’t even carry myself the way they do. This was my first time traveling in a foreign country on my own, so these feelings could have arisen due to first-time jitters, but either way, it made me uncomfortable to be out alone. To reduce my uneasiness, I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and kept walking, keeping my eyes peeled to what was ahead and acting like I knew where I was going and had a sense of purpose.
I was the foreigner.
Although I had my sunglasses on, I continued to feel like an outsider. However, I felt more in control because I could see my strangers’ thoughts through their eyes but they couldn’t see mine.
I was invincible.
I never did find the bookstore I was looking for that afternoon, so I ended up purchasing a journal from the Cartoleria Pantheon on my way to the Spanish Steps. It wasn’t the ideal journal, but I was at a point when the need for a journal was more important than finding one that satisfied all my requirements.
I was practical.
The combination of colors, design, and detail may appear to overwhelm the limited surface area of my journal, but I disagree. The size may not appeal to all as it is not particularly big, but it fits in my purse just right. Some may also describe it as “light as a feather”. The pages are lined so my stories will not appear as if they followed a crooked path, and thick enough to absorb the ink from my pen so my memories won’t seep through to the adjacent page. Records of observations during my travels and adventures will find themselves gradually tamed.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Augustus and the Golden Age
Octavian, eventually known as Augustus, was the first emperor of the Roman Empire. He ruled from 27 BC until his death in 14 AD. During his long reign, he brought peace and prosperity to the war-torn Mediterranean world that lasted about two centuries – The period came to be called the Pax Romana. It is universally agreed that Augustus was perhaps one of the greatest and most influential figures in Roman history. He brought Rome into the Golden Age and claimed to have transformed Rome from a city of brick into a city of marble. The Romans recognized his firm sense of duty and welcomed his reforms and the lasting peace which accompanied them.
The murder of Julius Caesar on the Ides of March in 44 B.C. was just one of the many events that led to the beginning of Octavian’s reign and the Roman Empire. It was not until after Caesar’s assassination and the discovery of the contents of his will that Octavian, Caesar’s great-nephew and adopted son, became aware that Caesar had nominated him as his personal heir. At the time, Marc Antony was still Consul and believed that he could one day step up to power, but he was placed in a serious disadvantage because of the position Octavian now held.
For a while, Octavian and Antony ruled alongside one another, each in control of a portion of the Roman Empire. However, their relationship soon turned into rivalry for power and conflict. After the battle of Philippi, where a Republican army was defeated by Octavian and Antony, both Brutus’s and Cassius’s killed themselves (Caesar’s assassins) and Caesar was declared a god, despite Antony’s previous efforts. Caesar’s stature ultimately influenced Octavian’s image, as he was recognized as a god’s son.
Meanwhile, Antony, who was in command of the Empire in the east, became involved with the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra, even though he was married to Octavian’s sister. This turn of event permitted Octavian to call both Antony and Cleopatra enemies of Rome. This consequently renewed civil war.
The inevitable and final battle between the two parties arrived in 31 B.C. at the Battle of Actium, where Antony and Cleopatra’s navy was destroyed by Octavian forces, which was commanded by Octavian’s friend Marcus Vispsanius Agrippa. Octavian’s fleet overwhelmed the ships of Antony and Cleopatra who fled to Egypt and committed suicide within a year. Alas, peace was achieved.
The title of Augustus, meaning “the exalted”, was given to Octavian in 27 BC by the senate upon his return to Rome. He established himself as the leading man of the state with tactful strategies of winning over the public and placating Republican opinions. The Empire itself consisted of the same constitutional offices as those found in the Republic, except Augustus was in control of all aspects of Roman public life.
Augustus may not have possessed the “personal magnetism” of Julius Caesar but he did have characteristics of his own that made him a great leader. He was disciplined and spread that strict discipline everywhere he went, maintained the loyalty of his friends, and chose his officials carefully. Augustus was considered cold-hearted at times; even when it came to his family, but it was mainly because of his idea of upholding a simple and well-regulated life. (Hibbert, 34).
During his long and prosperous reign, Augustus improved and expanded Rome in many ways – he kept the people of Rome content with liberal supplies of food and entertainment, established an effective police force, claimed that he restored no fewer than 82 temples in Rome, completed the Forum of Caesar, and worked on a temple to Mars Ultor, which was used to illustrate Mars as the avenger of his adoptive father’s murder. He also commissioned an enormous number of public works such as roads, bridges, forums, temples, market halls, and bathing complexes.
Although Augustus never claimed to be a god himself, he widely advertised himself as the son of a god. He had many sculptures made, especially those depicting him as a youthful hero and military commander, and imperial portraits and arches covered with reliefs that reminded the public of his great deeds. Many of these pieces of artwork were not historically accurate, but they were made to mold the public’s opinion of the Emperor – to have them see him as a godlike leader. Augustus and the artists he employed effectively used art and architecture for propagandistic ends.
The Ara Pacis Augustae is an altar that symbolizes Augustan peace and celebrates the era of prosperity and security during the rule of Augustus. It is one of the most famous examples of Augustan monumental sculptures in Rome. It is the epitome of how Augustus used art to manipulate the public’s opinion and glorify his deeds. The Ara Pacis is a public monument that is a propaganda statement for the good image of the emperor.
In antiquity, the Ara Pacis was used as a sacrificial altar where officials, priests, and Vestal virgins offered an annual sacrifice. The original location of the altar was on the eastern edge of the Roman district called Campus Martius, close to Via Flaminia, which was the road taken by Augustus when he re-entered Rome. The Ara Pacis was also near Augustus’s mausoleum, Agrippa’s baths, and a large sundial. The significance of this sundial was that on Augustus’s birthday, the gnomon, the indicator of the sundial, was designed so that the sun would cast a shadow that aligned with the doorway of the Ara Pacis. (Ramage, 123). This reiterated the message to the Roman public that Augustus was responsible for the new peace the Romans enjoyed.
Fig 1: Two EntrancesIt was decreed by the Senate on July 4th, 13 BC to celebrate Augustus’s return and the peace he brought to the Mediterranean world after three years’ absence in Spain and Gaul, settling matters in the western Empire. However, it was not dedicated until 9 BC. It took 3.5 years to complete the altar of peace by some of the best sculptors of the day. And like most historical relief sculptures, the artists were anonymous, but they most likely originated from Greece because of Augustus’s fondness for Greek art.
The Ara Pacis is rectangular and made out of white Carrara marble, which is a very famous type of marble used in ancient Rome. (In some cases, Carrara marble was valued above all others because of the mineral’s perfect shape). Furthermore, the Ara is composed of a sacrificial altar in the interior, surrounded by precinct walls, elaborately carved in relief, which is a specific carving technique that was used throughout the monument. The top half of the walls consist of reliefs of figures while the bottom is composed of acanthus leaves, swans, lizards, and flowers.
There are essentially two entrances: one facing the east and one facing the west (when it’s placed in its original location), and it has been suggested that, from the Roman’s perspective, the doorways were linked to the idea of peace. The main entrance, the doorway with the steps, consists of friezes that illustrate the origins of Rome: The top left side,
which is almost entirely lost, represented the Lupercal, the cave in which the she-wolf nurtured Romulus and Remus, and the wolf connection to the divine origins of Rome. The top-right panel depicts Aeneas, a Trojan hero and the son of the goddess Venus, sacrificing the White Sow. The idea here is that having Aeneas, the founder of the Julian line, on the Ara Pacis illustrated a key element of Augustus’s political agenda for his new Golden Age -- it reflected Augustus as a decedent from a god, equating to how he should be portrayed as a god. Another interesting detail about this particular frieze is how it also reflects Augustan religious agenda -- many of the religious symbols associated with religious orders are present, including the patera (an offering plate), the libatio
n jug, and the lituus (a curved staff). Many ancient Romans identified with religion by different objects and their symbols, therefore by having such prominent Augustan religious symbols on a monument dedicated to him, people were more likely to obey and practice religion. Such aspects of the Ara Pacis were used to spread a specific message to the public -- the importance of acknowledging and respecting an entity higher than himself.
The two sides of the Ara Pacis display two processions with figures that march from the back to the front. The southern procession composes of mainly senators, while the northern side is the imperial procession, composed of the principal figures, perfectly ordered by family and rank: priests, augurs, lictors (attendants). Octavian, flamens (priests), Agrippa (Augustus’s chief advisor), the young Cains Caesar, Livia, Tiberius, Antonia Minor and Drusus with their son Germanicus, Domitia and Domitius Ahenobarbus, and Maecenas. The general purpose behind these two processions is to show the dualism of Roman rule – the Senate and the family of Augustus.
The inclusion of children in the imperial family procession is especially significant because it is a reminder of the social program Augustus established. Augustus was concerned about a decline in the birthrate among the Roman nobility, so he enacted a series of laws designed to promote marriage, marital fidelity, and raising children. Portrayal o
f men with their families on the Ara was intended as a moral exemplar. Augustus also portrays his grandsons on the panel because they were important to him and he had hopes that they would play a role in continuing his dynasty. (Ramage, 120). Essentially, Augustus wanted to ensure the growth of the population.
Artistically, Augustus was interested in Classical Greek art, and wanted to show how artistically advanced Rome was as well by taking Greek art styles and developing them into a new, sophisticated Roman style. So, in the case of the imperial procession, the sculptors altered the heights of the figures by adding children to avoid the monotony of too many toga-wearing people with heads all at the same level, which was a style seen in Greek art. The artists also changed the stance and direction of the figures, using very low relief carving at the background level to indicate the figures behind. This technique was similar to the features on the frieze on the Parthenon in Athens, which was important to Augustus because in this way he could connect his dynasty’s greatness to that of Athens in the 5th century BC. Furthermore, it is important to note that the procession looks especially realistic because the artists showed some of the feet projecting beyond the edge of the relief, which is another technique used by the Greek. (Ramage, 121).
The entire bottom half of the Ara Pacis is covered with scroll reliefs that symbolize the peace and the plenty that Augustus brought to the Empire. It can be interpreted as a symbolic reference to the wealth of the Golden Age – abundance of naturally grown vegetation and the sprouting of cultivated plants from weeds.
On the left, upper-back panel, it is suggested that the woman holding the babies on her lap is Tellus, Mother Earth, and the babies represent fertility. Others have also suggested that the woman pe
rhaps represents Pax (peace), which is maybe a more logical interpretation because it directly correlates with the overall theme of peace: she is epitomizing the fruits of Pax Augusta – all around her the earth is in bloom and the animals of different species live peacefully side by side. Personifications of refreshing breezes, Earth, sky, and water were all incorporated into this picture of peace and fertility.
The panel on the upper-right is quite damaged, but it demonstrates Rome as the armed goddess Roma seated on a pile of enemy armor. However, she is armed to illustrate that she is prepared for battle just in case she is needed again. For now, she can rest since peace is at hand thanks to Augustus.
The garlands are located at the inner-upper sections of all four precinct walls. Not one is completely identical with another. They are each composed of fruits from all four seasons, both
wild and cultivated. The idea is that even though certain fruits are meant to bloom at a specific time during the year, they all bloomed magically at the same time to illustrate that Augustus’s peace spanned the entire year.
White cows are also located on the insides of the precinct walls. They were the sacrificial animals of Pax (peace), so including bleached skulls is an appropriate decoration for the sanctuary of the goddess of peace and the function of the altar.
The inner-side frieze of the sacrificial altar consists of six Vestal virgins (the virgin holy priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth) carrying implements of sacrifice. While the outer-side portrays the procession of sacrificial animals – an ancient ceremonial scene. Both of these processions are reiterating the purpose and significance of the Ara Pacis.
Like most ancient Roman monuments, as time wore on, the Ara Pacis was abandoned, forgotten, and eventually buried. But in 1568, 9 blocks of the altar’s friezes were discovered during an excavation to build the Palazza Fiano. Then 300 years later, in 1859, the base and side relief panels were discovered. Essentially, pieces of the altar were found all over the place -- some were acquired by the Grand Duke of Tuscany; others, after passing through various hands, found their way into museums in Rome and into the Louvre in Paris.
In the late 1930’s, during the rise of Italian Facism, Benito Mussolini ordered for the altar’s reconstruction and decided to have it installed in a building beside the Tiber as the highlight of his new theme park. He selected Vittorio Ballio Morpurgo, who was one of Mussolini’s favorite architects, to design this. Mussolini envisioned himself as the new Augustus, therefore this project implied his supposed bond with ancient emperor-conquerors. “A wall of Morpurgo’s building also carried the text of “Res Gestae Divi Augusti” or “deeds of the divine Augustus”: the emperor’s memoirs recounting his triumphs such as Mussolini’s pride in his “new” Ara Pacis.” (Riding). The altar was finally reconstructed in 1937-1938 from hundreds of fragments and even then, it was as a propagandistic device.
Today, the Ara Pacis sits in a museum along the Tiber River called The Ara Pacis Museum, which was designed by an American architect named Richard Meir.
When I first began my research and analysis of the friezes, I was already amazed by the art, technique, and all the imagery behind each of them just by flipping through photographs. But it was not until I was actually standing in front of the Ara Pacis, starring at it face-to-face, that I was fully impressed and mesmerized by what I was seeing, especially by its grand size.
The talents of the artists are undeniably remarkable, particularly when one takes into account its massiveness. The incredible amount of patience, precision, and thought that had to go into the construction of it is noteworthy.
Even though the Ara Pacis is not in its original location anymore and has been reconstructed, it continues to glorify the very essence of Augustus and all that he stood for. The incredible detail and symbolism that surrounds the Ara cannot be ignored or unappreciated. As one strolls around the Ara Pacis and takes the time to analyze each frieze and the symbolism behind them, there is no doubt that Augustus’s political and social agendas, as well as the peace and prosperity he brought to the Empire is well exemplified. As the viewer, we are reminded of the Golden Age and the undeniable power and influence Augustus held. By having people today continue to see and understand the significance of the Ara Pacis proves that Augustus has not been forgotten and is still recognized as one of the greatest figures in Roman history.
D’Ambra, Eve. Roman Art in Context. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1993. 27-52.
Hibbert, Christopher. Rome: The Biography of a City. New York: Penguin Books, 1985. 32-36.
Kleiner, Fred S., and Mamiya, J. Christin. Gardner’s Art Through the Ages. Harcourt College Publishers, 2001. 264-268.
Ramage, Nancy H., and Andrew Ramage. Roman Art. Upper Saddle River: Pearson Prentice Hall, 1991. 116-123.
Riding, Alan. "Richard Meier's New Home for the Ara Pacis, a Roman Treasure, Opens." 24 Apr. 2006. The New York TImes. 23 Aug. 2007.
Simon, Erika. Ara Pacis Augustae. Germany & Austria: Verlag Ernst Wasmuth Tubingen.
The murder of Julius Caesar on the Ides of March in 44 B.C. was just one of the many events that led to the beginning of Octavian’s reign and the Roman Empire. It was not until after Caesar’s assassination and the discovery of the contents of his will that Octavian, Caesar’s great-nephew and adopted son, became aware that Caesar had nominated him as his personal heir. At the time, Marc Antony was still Consul and believed that he could one day step up to power, but he was placed in a serious disadvantage because of the position Octavian now held.
For a while, Octavian and Antony ruled alongside one another, each in control of a portion of the Roman Empire. However, their relationship soon turned into rivalry for power and conflict. After the battle of Philippi, where a Republican army was defeated by Octavian and Antony, both Brutus’s and Cassius’s killed themselves (Caesar’s assassins) and Caesar was declared a god, despite Antony’s previous efforts. Caesar’s stature ultimately influenced Octavian’s image, as he was recognized as a god’s son.
Meanwhile, Antony, who was in command of the Empire in the east, became involved with the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra, even though he was married to Octavian’s sister. This turn of event permitted Octavian to call both Antony and Cleopatra enemies of Rome. This consequently renewed civil war.
The inevitable and final battle between the two parties arrived in 31 B.C. at the Battle of Actium, where Antony and Cleopatra’s navy was destroyed by Octavian forces, which was commanded by Octavian’s friend Marcus Vispsanius Agrippa. Octavian’s fleet overwhelmed the ships of Antony and Cleopatra who fled to Egypt and committed suicide within a year. Alas, peace was achieved.
The title of Augustus, meaning “the exalted”, was given to Octavian in 27 BC by the senate upon his return to Rome. He established himself as the leading man of the state with tactful strategies of winning over the public and placating Republican opinions. The Empire itself consisted of the same constitutional offices as those found in the Republic, except Augustus was in control of all aspects of Roman public life.
Augustus may not have possessed the “personal magnetism” of Julius Caesar but he did have characteristics of his own that made him a great leader. He was disciplined and spread that strict discipline everywhere he went, maintained the loyalty of his friends, and chose his officials carefully. Augustus was considered cold-hearted at times; even when it came to his family, but it was mainly because of his idea of upholding a simple and well-regulated life. (Hibbert, 34).
During his long and prosperous reign, Augustus improved and expanded Rome in many ways – he kept the people of Rome content with liberal supplies of food and entertainment, established an effective police force, claimed that he restored no fewer than 82 temples in Rome, completed the Forum of Caesar, and worked on a temple to Mars Ultor, which was used to illustrate Mars as the avenger of his adoptive father’s murder. He also commissioned an enormous number of public works such as roads, bridges, forums, temples, market halls, and bathing complexes.
Although Augustus never claimed to be a god himself, he widely advertised himself as the son of a god. He had many sculptures made, especially those depicting him as a youthful hero and military commander, and imperial portraits and arches covered with reliefs that reminded the public of his great deeds. Many of these pieces of artwork were not historically accurate, but they were made to mold the public’s opinion of the Emperor – to have them see him as a godlike leader. Augustus and the artists he employed effectively used art and architecture for propagandistic ends.
The Ara Pacis Augustae is an altar that symbolizes Augustan peace and celebrates the era of prosperity and security during the rule of Augustus. It is one of the most famous examples of Augustan monumental sculptures in Rome. It is the epitome of how Augustus used art to manipulate the public’s opinion and glorify his deeds. The Ara Pacis is a public monument that is a propaganda statement for the good image of the emperor.
In antiquity, the Ara Pacis was used as a sacrificial altar where officials, priests, and Vestal virgins offered an annual sacrifice. The original location of the altar was on the eastern edge of the Roman district called Campus Martius, close to Via Flaminia, which was the road taken by Augustus when he re-entered Rome. The Ara Pacis was also near Augustus’s mausoleum, Agrippa’s baths, and a large sundial. The significance of this sundial was that on Augustus’s birthday, the gnomon, the indicator of the sundial, was designed so that the sun would cast a shadow that aligned with the doorway of the Ara Pacis. (Ramage, 123). This reiterated the message to the Roman public that Augustus was responsible for the new peace the Romans enjoyed.
Fig 1: Two EntrancesIt was decreed by the Senate on July 4th, 13 BC to celebrate Augustus’s return and the peace he brought to the Mediterranean world after three years’ absence in Spain and Gaul, settling matters in the western Empire. However, it was not dedicated until 9 BC. It took 3.5 years to complete the altar of peace by some of the best sculptors of the day. And like most historical relief sculptures, the artists were anonymous, but they most likely originated from Greece because of Augustus’s fondness for Greek art.
The Ara Pacis is rectangular and made out of white Carrara marble, which is a very famous type of marble used in ancient Rome. (In some cases, Carrara marble was valued above all others because of the mineral’s perfect shape). Furthermore, the Ara is composed of a sacrificial altar in the interior, surrounded by precinct walls, elaborately carved in relief, which is a specific carving technique that was used throughout the monument. The top half of the walls consist of reliefs of figures while the bottom is composed of acanthus leaves, swans, lizards, and flowers.
There are essentially two entrances: one facing the east and one facing the west (when it’s placed in its original location), and it has been suggested that, from the Roman’s perspective, the doorways were linked to the idea of peace. The main entrance, the doorway with the steps, consists of friezes that illustrate the origins of Rome: The top left side,
which is almost entirely lost, represented the Lupercal, the cave in which the she-wolf nurtured Romulus and Remus, and the wolf connection to the divine origins of Rome. The top-right panel depicts Aeneas, a Trojan hero and the son of the goddess Venus, sacrificing the White Sow. The idea here is that having Aeneas, the founder of the Julian line, on the Ara Pacis illustrated a key element of Augustus’s political agenda for his new Golden Age -- it reflected Augustus as a decedent from a god, equating to how he should be portrayed as a god. Another interesting detail about this particular frieze is how it also reflects Augustan religious agenda -- many of the religious symbols associated with religious orders are present, including the patera (an offering plate), the libation jug, and the lituus (a curved staff). Many ancient Romans identified with religion by different objects and their symbols, therefore by having such prominent Augustan religious symbols on a monument dedicated to him, people were more likely to obey and practice religion. Such aspects of the Ara Pacis were used to spread a specific message to the public -- the importance of acknowledging and respecting an entity higher than himself.The two sides of the Ara Pacis display two processions with figures that march from the back to the front. The southern procession composes of mainly senators, while the northern side is the imperial procession, composed of the principal figures, perfectly ordered by family and rank: priests, augurs, lictors (attendants). Octavian, flamens (priests), Agrippa (Augustus’s chief advisor), the young Cains Caesar, Livia, Tiberius, Antonia Minor and Drusus with their son Germanicus, Domitia and Domitius Ahenobarbus, and Maecenas. The general purpose behind these two processions is to show the dualism of Roman rule – the Senate and the family of Augustus.
The inclusion of children in the imperial family procession is especially significant because it is a reminder of the social program Augustus established. Augustus was concerned about a decline in the birthrate among the Roman nobility, so he enacted a series of laws designed to promote marriage, marital fidelity, and raising children. Portrayal o
f men with their families on the Ara was intended as a moral exemplar. Augustus also portrays his grandsons on the panel because they were important to him and he had hopes that they would play a role in continuing his dynasty. (Ramage, 120). Essentially, Augustus wanted to ensure the growth of the population.Artistically, Augustus was interested in Classical Greek art, and wanted to show how artistically advanced Rome was as well by taking Greek art styles and developing them into a new, sophisticated Roman style. So, in the case of the imperial procession, the sculptors altered the heights of the figures by adding children to avoid the monotony of too many toga-wearing people with heads all at the same level, which was a style seen in Greek art. The artists also changed the stance and direction of the figures, using very low relief carving at the background level to indicate the figures behind. This technique was similar to the features on the frieze on the Parthenon in Athens, which was important to Augustus because in this way he could connect his dynasty’s greatness to that of Athens in the 5th century BC. Furthermore, it is important to note that the procession looks especially realistic because the artists showed some of the feet projecting beyond the edge of the relief, which is another technique used by the Greek. (Ramage, 121).
The entire bottom half of the Ara Pacis is covered with scroll reliefs that symbolize the peace and the plenty that Augustus brought to the Empire. It can be interpreted as a symbolic reference to the wealth of the Golden Age – abundance of naturally grown vegetation and the sprouting of cultivated plants from weeds.
On the left, upper-back panel, it is suggested that the woman holding the babies on her lap is Tellus, Mother Earth, and the babies represent fertility. Others have also suggested that the woman pe
rhaps represents Pax (peace), which is maybe a more logical interpretation because it directly correlates with the overall theme of peace: she is epitomizing the fruits of Pax Augusta – all around her the earth is in bloom and the animals of different species live peacefully side by side. Personifications of refreshing breezes, Earth, sky, and water were all incorporated into this picture of peace and fertility.The panel on the upper-right is quite damaged, but it demonstrates Rome as the armed goddess Roma seated on a pile of enemy armor. However, she is armed to illustrate that she is prepared for battle just in case she is needed again. For now, she can rest since peace is at hand thanks to Augustus.
The garlands are located at the inner-upper sections of all four precinct walls. Not one is completely identical with another. They are each composed of fruits from all four seasons, both
wild and cultivated. The idea is that even though certain fruits are meant to bloom at a specific time during the year, they all bloomed magically at the same time to illustrate that Augustus’s peace spanned the entire year.White cows are also located on the insides of the precinct walls. They were the sacrificial animals of Pax (peace), so including bleached skulls is an appropriate decoration for the sanctuary of the goddess of peace and the function of the altar.
The inner-side frieze of the sacrificial altar consists of six Vestal virgins (the virgin holy priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth) carrying implements of sacrifice. While the outer-side portrays the procession of sacrificial animals – an ancient ceremonial scene. Both of these processions are reiterating the purpose and significance of the Ara Pacis.
Like most ancient Roman monuments, as time wore on, the Ara Pacis was abandoned, forgotten, and eventually buried. But in 1568, 9 blocks of the altar’s friezes were discovered during an excavation to build the Palazza Fiano. Then 300 years later, in 1859, the base and side relief panels were discovered. Essentially, pieces of the altar were found all over the place -- some were acquired by the Grand Duke of Tuscany; others, after passing through various hands, found their way into museums in Rome and into the Louvre in Paris.
In the late 1930’s, during the rise of Italian Facism, Benito Mussolini ordered for the altar’s reconstruction and decided to have it installed in a building beside the Tiber as the highlight of his new theme park. He selected Vittorio Ballio Morpurgo, who was one of Mussolini’s favorite architects, to design this. Mussolini envisioned himself as the new Augustus, therefore this project implied his supposed bond with ancient emperor-conquerors. “A wall of Morpurgo’s building also carried the text of “Res Gestae Divi Augusti” or “deeds of the divine Augustus”: the emperor’s memoirs recounting his triumphs such as Mussolini’s pride in his “new” Ara Pacis.” (Riding). The altar was finally reconstructed in 1937-1938 from hundreds of fragments and even then, it was as a propagandistic device.
Today, the Ara Pacis sits in a museum along the Tiber River called The Ara Pacis Museum, which was designed by an American architect named Richard Meir.
When I first began my research and analysis of the friezes, I was already amazed by the art, technique, and all the imagery behind each of them just by flipping through photographs. But it was not until I was actually standing in front of the Ara Pacis, starring at it face-to-face, that I was fully impressed and mesmerized by what I was seeing, especially by its grand size.
The talents of the artists are undeniably remarkable, particularly when one takes into account its massiveness. The incredible amount of patience, precision, and thought that had to go into the construction of it is noteworthy.
Even though the Ara Pacis is not in its original location anymore and has been reconstructed, it continues to glorify the very essence of Augustus and all that he stood for. The incredible detail and symbolism that surrounds the Ara cannot be ignored or unappreciated. As one strolls around the Ara Pacis and takes the time to analyze each frieze and the symbolism behind them, there is no doubt that Augustus’s political and social agendas, as well as the peace and prosperity he brought to the Empire is well exemplified. As the viewer, we are reminded of the Golden Age and the undeniable power and influence Augustus held. By having people today continue to see and understand the significance of the Ara Pacis proves that Augustus has not been forgotten and is still recognized as one of the greatest figures in Roman history.
D’Ambra, Eve. Roman Art in Context. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1993. 27-52.
Hibbert, Christopher. Rome: The Biography of a City. New York: Penguin Books, 1985. 32-36.
Kleiner, Fred S., and Mamiya, J. Christin. Gardner’s Art Through the Ages. Harcourt College Publishers, 2001. 264-268.
Ramage, Nancy H., and Andrew Ramage. Roman Art. Upper Saddle River: Pearson Prentice Hall, 1991. 116-123.
Riding, Alan. "Richard Meier's New Home for the Ara Pacis, a Roman Treasure, Opens." 24 Apr. 2006. The New York TImes. 23 Aug. 2007
Simon, Erika. Ara Pacis Augustae. Germany & Austria: Verlag Ernst Wasmuth Tubingen.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
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