Exit, No Exit: Writing Assignment 14

Walking up and down Via Veneto, I am reminded of Paris. The taller, more Renaissance-style buildings create a scene much unlike anything seen before in Rome. All of a sudden, just outside of the old downtown, somehow cobblestones turn to asphalt and sidewalks broaden. In some places the pedestrian paths are so expansive that restaurants have connecting annexed facilities for evening dining – a spitting image of Parisian avenues. Via Veneto caught me by surprise as one of the first lanes in Rome to be lined with tall trees as well as buildings.

Among the chaos and weaving streets in Rome, there are a few that have a distinct destination; they achieve this by somewhat guiding travelers along the road, focusing their attention not towards any side streets that pass, but straight ahead along the framing of the buildings. Via Veneto is no exception, as cars never seem to turn off the road. It is as if the drivers feel too uncomfortable leaving the guide of the treed avenue for the spider web of back roads. After all, why would the road be this way? Obviously its builders wanted to send travelers in a specific direction. There must be something up ahead that is meant to be seen; perhaps this road takes drivers somewhere even more magnificent than the impressive avenue which they are on. If they turn down a side street, they will surely miss what they are driving to see.

Santa Maria della Concezione is in fact on this very road, and follows the theme as such. From the outside, it can be seen that there is really only one entrance, and walking in, you find that there is no central nave with side aisles like in so many other Roman and European churches; instead, there is one main open room, unobstructed by any pillars. These ceiling supports are instead found as part of the wall that separates the main section of the church from the surrounding chapels. Also unlike other churches in the city, the nave is a simple rectangle, unlike the typical cruciform shape.

The religious structure actually resembles the form of the road outside, as its lighting, among other things, directs attention only forward towards the altar. The building’s weight bearing columns line the nave as the trees line the street outside, while each dimly lit chapel acts as a less-traveled side street. But certainly the differences are much more apparent, since we are comparing a church to a road. Were they more alike, Via Veneto would be straighter, and would force travelers to turn around and drive out the way they entered the street.

Below the main church is a crypt following similar structural rules of space. Similar to its parent church a level above, the crypt shares its entrance and exit through one door. However, the columns and chapels in the room above or the trees and buildings on the avenue outside are replaced here by bones and graves. While their placement along the crypt walkway provides somewhat of the same guiding encasement as visitors walk down the hall, the bones are much less inviting in their placement than the trees prove to be outside. But even more of a difference in the style of the crypt would be that it has no distinct destination; instead, visitors walk through the crypt to observe each burial chapel one by one. There is not exactly something comparable to the altar upstairs, where the hall takes you somewhere. But in many of these structures, it becomes apparent that there is not always a distinct destination, but rather a collection of scenes that invites you in; a great example of this is surely found in the liveliness of the Spanish Steps.

No matter the time of day, you will find tourists and Romans alike resting and viewing the surrounding beauty from an open step. The pathway to the top is divided architecturally into three sections; with the massive amounts of people at any given time, the middle becomes the seating area, with two aisles along the side – somewhat resembling the setup of our familiar church. The edges of the steps are framed quite abruptly with railings, forcing pedestrians to resume their path upwards. They act as the buildings on Via Veneto, or the walls separating the chapels from the nave in Santa Maria della Concezione. However, in sitting and observing among the hundreds of other visitors, it seems that the Spanish Steps are used much less for a connecting road to get to one street from the other. Instead, people enter from one direction, find their seat, spend time enjoying their surroundings, and ultimately leave the way they entered.

The steps can be considered a double-sided church. Entering from either direction, you are drawn in by a view comparable to viewing the altar upon entering Santa Maria della Concezione. From the base of the steps, you can see the obelisk and church behind it sitting just at the lip of a perfect viewing balcony, and entering from above, you can see the well-crafted fountain amidst a bustling piazza. Both views invite a trip up or down the steps. And similar to the church, trips both ways are not simply straight shots. Traversing the steps includes seeing it all – views and people alike – just like visiting the church includes a tour of the surrounding chapels, for either respect or prayer.

This theme of guiding architecture seems very apparent across Rome – it is a city of purpose and style in architecture. Focusing the attention of passersby in places such as the walk approaching St Peter’s, among other places, was very important to prove significance in built aspects of the city. All examples certainly do not fall into the same perfect mold, but their forms and shapes are strikingly similar – perhaps to get the same point across.