Saint Ivo & Terremoto

Saint Ivo is the patron saint of lawyers, and is also an advocate for the poor. 

Sant'Ivo alla Sapienza is a church that stands on the location of a former chapel for students at the University of Sapienza - which has since relocated elsewhere in the city. 

The buildings that flank the courtyard that fronts Saint Ivo are now the archives of the city of Rome.

Considered a Baroque-era masterpiece of the architect Francesco Borromini, who was a rival of Gianlorenzo Bernini (even though Bernini was often unrivaled in his sculptural work),  

the church was commissioned by Pope Alexander VII, whose familial name was Chigi.

Note the beautiful corkscrew cupola on the church dome.

In a stroke of unbelievable fortuna for us, this church is two (large, mind you) doors down from our address.

The bus stop we frequent the most is directly across from the building complex, which actually hides Sant'Ivo from street-side view.

For the whole of our summer stay here, we waited to see this church. It was closed for repairs.

And when it opened just a few weeks ago, it was only opened for visits for 3 hours on Sundays, which meant that it was available to visitors for about 2 of those hours, and the other hour was dedicated to a communion service.

So while our first houseguest slept in on a Sunday, we got ourselves up and breakfasted and down the street to catch a glimpse of Sant'Ivo.

The utter whiteness of so much of the building's interior is stunning. 

Note the 6 pointed star motif: both the star of the Chigi coat of arms and also - in the 17th century - interpreted as the Star of Solomon, which would be associated with wisdom.

Sant'Ivo's interior walls undulate in a series of convexities and concavities. This is Baroque splendor, in a charged space that pulses and recedes.

There is very little ornament of any other color than white, here.  And contrary to most other Baroque-on-steriods churches, the use of gold is minimized.

A space for a special person or family? Perhaps the Chigis.

I provide this again so that you can now focus on the other image from the Chigi coat of arms:  the six mountains (look above the central window at the bottom of the image)

Gothic churches may well have - by design - urged followers to look heavenward at stained glass windows and soaring, pointed arches, but this Baroque church effectively does the same thing, with its upward thrust of vertical elements, it's ethereal, glowing whiteness, and it's central-plan footprint. You have no choice but to crane your neck and take in the light.

The courtyard.

And the lovely, spiral cupola - now (as of one month ago) ensconced in scaffolding.  

You see, cracks have formed in the dome. They must be repaired.

And just now, thanks to the 6.6 earthquake of last Sunday, there are more severe cracks.

I haven't checked, but I probably don't have to:  Sant'Ivo is once again off limits to all.

The burden that Italy literally, figuratively and monetarily bears for its treasures is not one to be taken lightly.

The tourist may take umbrage at having a beautiful view marred or even obscured by scaffolding. 

What we often don't realize is the painstaking work that is undertaken every day, all over this country, to repair, protect and preserve monuments.  And Italians take great pride in their craftsmanship, so the work is long.  The work is excruciatingly methodical.

What an immense responsibility.

The faithful have prayed for the survival of loved ones in the wake of yet another terremoto.

And they may also pray for the survival of great art. 

Culture depends on both.