Showing posts with label gargoyles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gargoyles. Show all posts

Monday, October 6, 2025

Albino Porcupine

Would it be any less irreverent if I described Milan's Duomo as a marble pincushion?  Its uniqueness begs for metaphor.  In either case, a celestial being who sat on its glorious pinnacles definitely would cry "ouch!"


Yet again in Catholic Italy, I was awestruck, even before ascending or entering.  Only four churches in the world are bigger.


The installation of elevators in the 20th century made it possible for tourists to walk on the terrace and roof where the laborers who began building the cathedral in the 14th century probably thought only angels ever would tread. Everyone must walk down, however.


Napoleon put his force behind the completion of the facade in 1805 so that he could be crowned king of Italy inside but construction of the church didn't end until 1965.  God created earth in seven days; it took Italians six centuries to finish the Duomo.


The intricacy of design is crazy, completed with only the most basic of tools: the human brain.  Truly marvelous.  Critical opinion about the architecture differed in the 19th century; John Ruskin described it as stolen "from every style in the world: and every style spoiled" while Henry James was more on my page:  "If it had no other distinction it would still have that of impressive, immeasurable achievement … a supreme embodiment of vigorous effort."


When I framed this view, I didn't realize I would be dining on the roof terrace across the street in just a few hours.


Look closely between the two spires and the snow-capped Alps are visible, as are the entrance and dome of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II at the center right.


Here's a close-up of one of the more than 3,400 statues (killjoy John Ruskin again: "the statues all over are of the worst possible common stonemasons’ yard species, and look pinned on for show") that decorate the cathedral, glimpsed as I ascended the worn marble stairs to the roof.

An equestrian statue of Vittorio Emanuel II dominates the Piazza del Duomo.  It seems almost Lilliputian in comparison to the cathedral.

If you're wondering why all the skyscrapers in Milan seem to be so far away, here's the answer:  no structure in the city's historic center can rise higher than the Madonnina, nearly 400 feet above ground.  Not even Mussolini dared to defy this divine zoning regulation when he commissioned Milan's second-rate version of the Eiffel Tower which stands more than 600 feet taller.  I lucked out: more often than not, mist enshrouds the Madonnina; during World War II, she remained under cover, literally, to avoid tempting bombers.



Visitors descend on the other side of the Duomo where the flying buttresses banned in Florence were perfectly illuminated by the midday sun.


The fact that this sculpture was likely to remain hidden at the time of its creation apparently mattered not to its sculptor.  I suppose it's a little like having an artwork in storage at MoMA or the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Possession--which confers bragging rights--is almost as gratifying as display.  I once slept with a narcissistic artist who painted swirly nude images of himself; when I Googled him years later and discovered MoMA had purchased one of his works, my estimation of his talent increased significantly.


There's a lot more to see inside Milan's Duomo than Florence's.


As much as I appreciate a good tomb, transparency is a quality I can do without.  Beato Andrea Carlo Ferrari was a cardinal and archbishop of Milan who advocated for greater modernity in the church which didn't always make him popular.



If I were Catholic, I definitely would have wanted to spill my guts here.


Get this:  the Duomo can accommodate 40,000 worshippers at a time!



The sensibly organized Duomo museum, which snakes along a single level, includes items of greater antiquity than the cathedral.  

Evangeliary Cover (Fifth Century)
"Cross of Aribet" (Milanese workshop, ca 1040)
Critters cling to some of the pinnacle tops.


Gargoyles do their job, fiercely.


Superb lighting enhances the viewing experience and exposes the sexism of religion.

"Eternal Father" by Beltramino de Zutti (1416-25)
Woman Carrying Two Children
This trip has doubled--at least--my 3D images of my favorite saint.

St. Sebastian by Pietro Antonio Solari (ca 1480-82)
Reliquary Bust of St. Sebastian by Pietro Rubini (ca 1600-04)
I don't think I've ever seen a stained glass depiction of the Tower of Babel under construction.
15th-16th Century
This replica of the Madonnina makes you realize she's a lot bigger than she looks.


Here's what the Duomo looked like half a century before my parents visited it, when the facade remained blackened by war.

Piazza del Duomo (1905-06)
Legend has it that this adolescent martyr, condemned to death by the Romans for his Christianity in the second century, was beheaded when, after being thrown to carnivorous beasts, the animals refused to eat him.

St. Agapitus by Marco Antonio Prestinari (1605-07)
Terra cotta sculptures and tapestries round out the museum's varied collection.

"Sacrifice of Abraham" by Giuseppe Vismara (pre-1664)
"The Brazen Serpent" (tapestry from a cartoon by
Giovanni Battista Bertani, mid-16th century)
You can buy your very own Madonnina for a little less than a thousand bucks as you exit the cathedral through--what else?--the gift shop.


Sunlight changes the complexion of the Duomo throughout the day. 

 

Thursday, May 18, 2023

Belem

Pepper money paid the stone masons responsible for these intricate carvings above the entrance to Jerónimos Monastery in Belem.

 

"I'm ignoring all my travel lessons!" Chris cried when he spied the very long line.  He wasn't wrong:  post-pandemic, even shoulder season attracts enormous crowds in popular destinations.  And that's without the Chinese in the international travel mix!


It took a century to build the monastery and church, begun in 1501 by Manuel I.  His name now describes describes an architectural style (also known as late Portuguese Gothic) customized with maritime elements and Age of Discovery symbols.  Staircase frescoes depict the heraldry of Saint Jerome.



I loves me some gargoyles.






Monks dined in this huge refectory until 1833 when Portugal de-secularized Jerónimos and turned much of it into a naval academy.  Tile panels depict biblical food allegories.




Lisbon's 1755 earthquake did little damage to the monastery aside from the balustrade which was quickly repaired.


The lines were much shorter for the smaller, incredibly atmospheric church.  Check out the Manueline elephant supports. 


And here lies Vasco de Gama, one of the few Portuguese historical figures I could name from memory prior to this trip.  His late 15th century discovery of a maritime route to India led to the spice trade that financed the architectural magnificence of Jerónimos Monastery.

Say what you will about fascists, they do know how to build a monument.  Padrão dos Descobrimentos, which was inaugurated in 1960 when support for Estado Novo had begun to crumble, celebrates the Age of Discovery five centuries earlier.  It's hard not to think of it as "Make Portugal Great Again." 


Henry the Navigator is sculpted as if he's standing at the prow of a ship.  In fact, Vasco da Gama sailed to India from this port in 1497.  Both he and Ferdinand Magellan, the first person to circumnavigate the globe, appear on the eastern ledge, where Lisa Stansfield also walked in her video for Change.


We took an elevator to the top of the monument.  The 25th of April Bridge and the Sanctuary of Christ the King in Alamada punctuate the horizon.  Prior to the Carnation Revolution in 1974, the bridge was named after Portugal's dictator.


You can see the Jerónimos Monastery, much of which is now a naval academy, at the northern edge of Imperial Park.


I was much more enamored with this mosaic plaza directly below the monument until I learned that its construction had been a gift of the apartheid government in South Africa.  Neighboring Mozambique, a Portuguese colony, didn't achieve independence until 1975,  the year after Estato Novo collapsed.


Non-polluting wind powered Portugal's Age of Discovery.


Estado Novo clung to colonization long after many other European countries recognized that imperialism had become a liability.  This poster hangs inside the small museum which provides queasy and sometimes confusing historical context for the fascist dictatorship that constructed the monument.


Henry leads a total of 33 individuals, including monarchs, explorers, mapmakers, artists, clergy and even a saint, on both sides of the monument.


The figures are holding a carrack, the kind of wooden ship with three or four masts that the explorers were sailing when they they made their discoveries. 


Some visitors to the monument were thirsty.


The riverfront in Belem gets so overrun with tourists that people are instructed to walk their bikes.


We didn't go inside the Tower, built in the early16th century to fortify the mouth of the Tagus River.  From the top of the Padrão dos Descobrimentos, it looked like a rook on an aquatic chessboard but up close you could see the Manueline details.


The seahorses in Imperial Park are more my speed which bracket both ends of a long, narrow pond.


Turtles and ducks peacefully co-exist at the base of the statues.


Tiles and iron grillwork cover the facades of apartment buildings in the the neighborhood.