At the Palazzo Altemps, the large empty
courtyard was filled with the sound of rain hitting cobblestones. Surrounding
the courtyard were aisles filled with white marble statues, all vying for your
attention. Potted trees filled the spaces giving color to the whiteness and nature
to the manmade. I sat down on a bench. I needed to rest my feet after walking
all day and then having to stand on a crowded bus to get to the museum. I put
down my bag filled with souvenir presents that I had bought earlier in the day.
After a minute, I got up, ready to see statues in a calmer and less crowded
setting than the Vatican Museums.
Emily and I walked through the
rooms in a square around the courtyard. There were very few other people in the
museum, but eyes from gods and emperors watched us in almost every room. There
was a large bust of Demeter with a veil over her head, sternly looking out.
There was a large Athena with a room all to herself. She petted her snack and
gazed up into the sky, a strong image of a strong woman. Aphrodite tried to
cover herself (not very well) in a pudicitia
pose. She glanced to the side in fake modesty, wanting the viewer to see her
beauty. Dionysus stood proud and tall, with one hand behind his head and the
other holding out grapes, he let the adoring satyr and lion look up at his
massive figure. Apollo sat on his stone and set his lyre on his thigh, ready to
play a tune. Across from him sat another Apollo, also setting up his lyre. They
stared each other down, halted in an Apollo vs. Apollo music competition.
In one room there were the archaeological
findings of a Roman domus. From above, you could see the outlines of rooms and
I could imagine people living within them. On the side of the room there was a
case filled with pottery, glassware, and silverware found within the house. The
lives of those who once lived in the house became more and more clear as I
could see what they ate out of, drank out of, and even opened locks with. Archaeology
does not reveal just what the subjects wanted to show but is a random selection
of their belongings. In this way the findings give a clearer picture of their
true lives, not just how they wanted to be seen. This room, although not as
beautiful as the other rooms, was truer than the now-white marble statues and
commissioned frescoes.
We climbed
the marble steps to resume the circle of art on the second floor. Greeting us at
the top of the steps was a beautiful portico. Potted plants and busts lined up to
match the pattern of the columns. Above our heads were vines, flowers, cherubs,
blue sky, and scaffolding, as if the ceiling gave way to a beautiful grotto and
it was no longer cloudy and rainy. We continued walking around the Palazzo
Altemps on the second floor. I didn’t recognize every sculpture and I was too
tired to try to find the very well-hidden signs with information that hung on
the wall far away from the sculpture that it described. In one dark room, light
shone only on the Galata Suicide. A man held a knife to his own throat, while
also holding a woman, falling to her knees below him. I circled it slowly,
trying capture the emotion, action, and drama with my eyes.
We walked
back downstairs and through the wet courtyard, pulling up our hoods to keep the
rain out. We once again heard the drops of rain hit the cobblestone. The sound
of traffic grew louder as we exited the Palazza and started walking back to the
nearest bus stop. I was glad that I got to fully look at the statues instead of
passing by with a herd to tourists, mooing for the Sistine Chapel. It was a
perfect place to go on that rainy afternoon.
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