In Segesta, Sicily, there is a temple that is the perfect scenic representation of human skill; it is here that I saw how mankind could unite logos, mythos, and time together. Naturally, the concept of time has changed, slower and more measured for the ancients, fast and mechanical for modern man, but the sensations experienced in Segesta remain intact. The Greek temple is made to be seen from the outside, walking along the peristyle (step-step-step, column-gap-column, shadow-light-shadow); or from afar, when the sun illuminates the main façade facing east, and as it sets on the opposite side.
If you travel the road from Trapani to Palermo, the temple of Segesta is there on your left, for us rushing by in cars, it’s only a few moments: just enough time to see the pediment and the entablature appear from nowhere, followed by the columns. A flash of reflections and the image of the temple appears before us in all its majesty; a few seconds later, it’s all over, the temple disappears beyond the hill.
Logos or mythos? Truth or fiction?
It was with Caravaggio that I discovered how one can represent a longer time, in other words infinity, and the briefest of times, just a few moments.
The artworks are both in Rome; I saw the first one many years ago. I was descending from the Pincio on such a hot and sultry day that a fog of steam was rising from Piazza del Popolo. The church at the foot of the staircase was open, and I thought: fresh air, calm, peace... I slipped through the door and was enveloped in darkness.
To see the Cerasi chapel, you had to insert a coin, and at the ticking of a device, Caravaggio’s canvases would light up.
The 'Crucifixion of Saint Peter' is on one side of the chapel, and it is the most raw and ruthless representation of live death that I have ever seen. The astonishing compositional machinery of Caravaggio creates anguish especially because, even though it has a beginning, it lacks an end: the entire structure of the painting revolves around a curve that perpetuates, infinitely, the action of the drama in progress.
I will tell you more, to increase the force of the time's rhythm, Caravaggio manages to use sounds. It seems incredible, but it’s true, in the 'Crucifixion of Saint Peter' the images seem accompanied by the creaking of the wood and the muffled sounds of the workers handling the ropes to raise the cross.
And again, it is with background noises and words that Caravaggio seems to accompany the swift action unfolding in a tavern. It is here that the painter set, again in Rome, the 'Calling of Saint Matthew' in the Contarelli chapel, in the Church of Saint Louis of the French.
The facts: inside the dark and dusty room, men are playing seated at a table, the door opens and a beam of light illuminates the scene, two people enter, and Matthew looks up surprised.
Everything happens in a few moments, the two strangers at the door are Jesus and Peter, Jesus raises an arm and points to Matthew:
- you - says Christ,
- me? - asks Matthew,
- you - repeats Peter.
End of story.
This is conciseness indeed: perfect calculation of time and rhythm through images.
- ‘Had we bat world enough and time ....’ If only I had more space and more time’ ... as the poet Andrew Marvell said to his shy and coy lover.
I too have neither space nor time left to tell you about what you’ve asked me...
Saying this, I pick up the pencil and start drawing again.
- It's true, there’s no more time - you say, then turn on your chair and return to your drawing.
Suddenly you raise your head and ask:
- Did you also see a cat in front of the door this morning?
Or was it yesterday?
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