The
Sistine Chapel
How does one begin to attempt to describe the
indescribable? An impossible task. Instead, what follows is simply an account
of what was meant to be a purely cultural experience but what tuned out to be
so much more.
Italy, Vatican City, the Vatican museum. It’s a typical
spring morning in the city and the temperature is rocketing skywards. My ticket
bought and the already rapidly forming queues negotiated, I am funnelled along
endless corridors, past statues and galleries, which should be worthy of my
attention but which are ignored as everyone including myself head towards one
ultimate destination; the Sistine chapel. Eventually I reach the destination,
my anticipation is great. I enter the
vast space through a tiny door in the far side of the chapel.
As I emerge into the vast space what appears to me
attacks my senses on so many levels. What
strikes me first are the colours, vivid yet dusky cornflower blues and shiny golds. Secondly, I was expecting to be awestruck by
the ceiling but what is just as impressive is that every surface, including the
walls, are painted. Giant velvet
curtains drape either side of the entrance, lush dark maroon in colour; on
closer inspection, these are actually painted. So lifelike I want to reach out and stroke
them to check.
I had been warned that the chapel would be horribly busy
and noisy. It is, but that doesn’t
distract me from the totally awesome sight I am witnessing. The amount of
people simply adds to the magic, as - although I am surrounded by hundreds of
other heads all tilted skywards – it’s as if I am there alone. I am totally overwhelmed.
The sound in the chapel is also unique. The signs all around request a respectful
silence, but how can the visitor not be expected to share their thoughts and feelings
with others when presented with such a magnificent sight? So the result is thousands of whispers, which
create quite a sound. The noise
gradually gets louder, rising a few decibels more until a guard shouts
“silenzio” and the voices instantly drop to quiet murmurs again only to slowly
ebb upwards and the whole process starts again.
I have lost the rest of my party and find myself in
the middle of the chapel alone. I find
my way through the crowds, unable to peel my gaze from the ceiling. I find my way to the far wall where a bench
runs around the perimeter of the chapel. I sit down. I needed to absorb every inch. I study each and every one of the frescoes
and link them to the correct Bible story. A tear begins to roll down my cheek.
On the far alter wall is Da Vinci’s crowning glory, The
Last Judgement, in the centre is Christ surrounded by mankind, it seems kind of
fitting that everyday, people come to observe this spectacle and he is indeed
surrounded by mankind.
My trip to the Sistine Chapel had such a powerful
impact on me, in many ways. People often
talk of mans achievements when they put their mind to it. I think it simply reaffirmed to me that there
is something so much greater than myself
When I got outside and managed to find my fellow day-trippers,
my husband asked me “So what did you think?”
Hmmmm, Where to start?
