Sunday, September 23, 2007

The Pantheon: Writing Assignment 10

What is the Pantheon in Rome like? What at first seems like a simple question can only be answered by another question: when? With a variety of variables constantly changing the appearance and experience inside, the church changes to the time of day.

In the morning during the week, the massive metal doors are hauled open promptly at 8:30, not even waiting for the floor sweeper to finish his last area right near the entrance. At last he moves out into the portico section, polluting less of the church with noise. One could wonder if he does that every morning; if he is the only one with that job. Looking out onto the piazza, there are more horse-drawn carriages than people, and they are standing at the ready until the cameras with people attached to them come out of the woodwork. The doors just opened reveal a vast, empty marble space, like an opened tomb from an overnight sealing. A dim light shines through the oculus barely right of the opening, shaped as an oval by the sun’s height just above Rome. There are no hard lighting angles; instead the church seems to be dimly but evenly illuminated, with equal light sources from the ceiling and the front door. Despite the unique characteristics of the church, the Pantheon maintains the general aura in the lighting that would be expected from any other church in the city. The equality of lighting makes your mind work to see everything, as nothing is dominated to draw your attention. 8:45 already, and still practically no one is in the Pantheon. A pigeon flies in, finding a peaceful resting ledge. This is a perfect time to observe the floor and the alternating circles and squares – in color and shape. The tranquility is only disrupted by kids jumping from circle to square, but even then, the innocence adds to the experience. A soft breeze feels pulled in through the front entrance, and the sky slowly brightens just through the oculus. It proves to be a great time to observe the incredible detail at the top of the Corinthian columns, as well as the intricacies of the choir stalls behind the altar. Your eyes can easily focus on these truly amazing aspects without feeling like they are missing out on the main show, which does not come until midday.

Unless overcast skies freeze the morning experience throughout the day, when you return with the sun high in the sky, everything can change. The sun through the oculus is strong enough to appear as dramatic as a spotlight, moving slowly across the base of the dome near the front door. In late summer, the sun never gets high enough to focus the light on the floor or walls of the amazing structure, so it instead keeps the dome constantly illuminated for those midday hours. Most who have visited the Pantheon remember the gigantic feat of architecture that is the dome, and little else; the lighting makes it impossible to forget the coffered ceiling, the shadows emphasizing the square within square inlay. There are art pieces and tombs lining the edge of the perfectly circular church, but with the sea of people, it is easier to just look up to see a sight uninterrupted in a photo by the tops of strangers’ heads. There are signs all around requesting silence, but no one takes heed, too in awe by the structure to remain quiet. Unfortunately, the number of people inside makes it impossible to experience the wonder of all there is to offer.

At night, artificial light is relied upon to view this amazing building, but in a good way, as it brings attention to things in the church that were not noticed previously in the day. All day light for the most part comes from above, reaching only the areas in good view of the oculus. Instead, at closing time, the place is lit in most cases from below; the dome is lit from spotlights above the upper cornice in a very ordered fashion. Overlapping shadows are cast from below, compared to the single dramatic shadows experienced with the sun in the sky. Large chapel niches, a side note in the viewer’s mind before, now becomes the focus of attention, as each are lit from inside. It is a scenario similar to viewing a lit room in a house from outside at night. Compared to their surroundings, these lit rooms invite our eyes to see so much more detail there than anywhere surrounding. The walls of the church are truly the main event in the evening. What had been an amazing dome earlier has now become somewhat of an illusion, like a trick on the eyes as it seems to look shallow – no light to prove its depth. As such, a much sparser crowd spends their time skirting the edge, looking at the chapels, and less looking up. The lighting definitely returns the church to a more typical church feel; though the room is circular, the lining chapels and art pieces are distinct reminders of the fact that it is indeed a church. Between the chapel niches, statues and works of art seem to pop out under their single spotlights, attractions that one probably would not recall from their earlier visit. Drama can be found in the accentuated imperfections and lines where materials meet in the upper walls, as well as in the shadows below the dome, creating silhouettes of the architectural details in aspects such as the Corinthian column profiles that line the room. But soon enough the spotlights start going out, expecting people to follow the light out of the Pantheon. When people continue to stand in awe, the large front doors are closed halfway, and a loudspeaker that didn’t seem to exist until now comes on, reminding visitors in every language that the church is now closed. On the way out, eyes are drawn to the portico roof, as spotlights accentuate the arch and wood framing architecture above. The sun, though set, still has an effect on the dimming sky, making visitors wonder just what the place would look like in the middle of the night.

Roman rain comes down large and hard. If you catch the Pantheon at a time when the skies are falling, you will see the incredible view of rain coming through the oculus and trickling on the church floor. Upon approach, it is at first amusing to see more people gathered under the Pantheon front portico than in the piazza and church interior combined. Inside, squeaks from wet shoes echo softly and slow to a stop as each person coming in seems religiously drawn to the oculus. But at a closer look, it is apparent why. The heavy pouring of rain outside is somehow altered in its entrance to the church, because the drops appear more as a mist, slowly falling to the marble floor. The drops are only visible in the light, so looking at the floor, there appears to be more of a mysterious rippling puddle of water. Skies are overcast outside, so the soft light shortens the apparent depth of the ceiling. As such, the rain drops seem to fall slowly and for an eternity before hitting the ground. People look up as though waiting for the rain to pick up again, even though outside it is already raining cats and dogs. After a while people casually stroll the interior though nothing is immensely lit, and slowly squeak back out, in no hurry to return into the rain.

The structured space offered by the building on the inside can in some ways be compared to the exterior space of Piazzas Navona and Sant’Ignazio. Both exterior squares retain their shape with help from tall, flush buildings. They follow the same trend the through the day, where different lighting patterns guide a visitor’s attention. In twilight in Piazza Navona, nothing stands out besides the height of the church dome and perhaps the construction of the Four Rivers Fountain. Instead, in the evening, the absence of sun draws our attention to the light that spills from the side streets, similar to the Pantheon niches. Sant’Ignazio does this too, but it is interesting to note that upon arrival, the focus is drawn towards center structures, such as the middle triangular building, instead of the openness of the sky above, like it is in the Pantheon with its dome.

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