Siena

I had this idea that Siena was going to be one of my favorite cities. It turned out that the day we went it was rainy and muggy and the morning hadn’t started out very well, so I wasn’t in a great mood. I was tired, and I knew we were going to have to do a lot of walking.

We started out in the Church of Saint Dominic, which didn’t look very much like a church upon entering. After studying it for a while, I found the main altar and realized that the pews had just been turned sideways. It was a very simple church, though it had some Gothic characteristics with pointed arches and windows. It housed a relic of Saint Catherine, the patron saint of Siena. The pews had been turned to face her chapel, which expressed the city’s pride in their patron saint and their emphasis on religion. I wonder if the simplicity of the church was related to its association with the Dominicans who focused their attention on practical reasoning and activity instead of spiritual contemplation.

We then moved on to see the Cathedral, whose ornate, white façade seemed to chase away the foggy storm clouds in both the sky and my day. I was staring at a marble sculpture that could hardly be grasped in one glance, or even at one distance. It was striking as a whole, and yet I wanted to examine every detail up close. The Gothic intricacies were found in both the myriad colors and sculptural details. Layers upon layers of faceted marble drew me in and planted my feet at exactly the same time. Later on, when I went inside the church, I was overwhelmed. The ceiling was arrayed with magnificent groin vaults; a forest of beautiful black and white marble columns lined the aisles and transept arms; and the side chapels and paintings were masterpieces in themselves. I could have examined this Italian Gothic church for hours.

We moved on to the Campo, which signified the civic importance in the town, and into the Palazzo Pubblico. Here, the paintings on the walls and ceilings were incredible. I was struck to find that the artist of these paintings seemed to be of no importance, as if his art-making was a common task. The paintings told propagandistic stories about the town, and I learned of the effectiveness of art on the public. People were made to believe that everything was fine even in the worst wartimes. The greatest art, I was told, is made during the most tragic times (the Middle Ages, etc.) when glorious propaganda is needed the most. I also was struck to discover the presence of religious art in an institution that was striving to separate itself from the Church. I was told that though the two bodies were separate, the people who governed were still religious, so it was not a contradiction. It seems like this lesson should be adopted today, as the American government strives to separate from religion by removing it completely.

Even though my day and the weather started out a mess, the sights of Siena salvaged it, and I enjoyed myself after all. At the least, I sure wouldn’t mind coming back—only next time the sun is coming with me.