7.8.24
Sitting inside the astonishing Basilica of San Vitale. This place - Ravenna - is for me not so much a unique collection of late Roman/early Christian art, as a personal reproach. Although I vaguely knew of Ravenna, and that it contained some interesting art and buildings, I simply had no idea of just how great that art was. It is almost unbelievable for me that this is the first time I have been here, given its importance. And I arrived here only circuitously. Studying Turkish, I have naturally explored the country’s greatest city - Constantinople/Istanbul. That, in its turn, sparked my interest in the Byzantine world - something that I have rather ignored (bad me). And Byzantium and its history leads to the two Roman empires: east, centred in Constantinople, and west, in Ravenna.
I therefore belatedly discover about Galla Placidia, Theodoric the Great - and his particular Goths (I knew about the latter in general, obviously). And the unique fusion of Roman/Byzantine/Germanic cultures. One result of that is the Gothic bible of Bishop Wulfilas, which I bought 40 years ago, and have sitting on my bookshelves (and now available online). It’s our earliest major source of the Germanic languages. The other result - obscured to me until now - are these buildings.
From the outside, the unusual octagonal shape of San Vitale makes it clear that this is something different. The first steps into the interior space reveal a surprisingly high dome - I had not expected it to be so physically big - and the jarring baroque frescoes there. But turn to the presbytery, and everything is redeemed. Golden mosaics gleam everywhere, and the colours are as fresh as if they were made yesterday. I realise belatedly that this is why mosaics are better than frescoes when it comes to ancient art: they fade more slowly. With these mosaics we can see what the creators intended, not some pale shadow of their vision.
A striking beardless Christ in the apse, looking very young. At the other end of the presbytery, an arch of apostles and saints, plus a reassuringly hairy Jesus. But for me, the most gobsmackingly interesting are the mosaic panels on the apse side walls.
The one of Justinian - another name I knew vaguely, without fully grasping his importance - shows a man who commands. No mere stylisation, but a real portrait, enhanced again by its colours preserved in stone. To his side, soldiers and the church, two pillars of his power. Then on the other side an even more miraculous and unprecedented image, of Theodora. To say that she was an incredible woman is an understatement. Rising from less than nothing - probably a prostitute - she not only became empress of the late Roman empire, but a great one. And her imposing image here reflects that. As well as her women attendants, there is a fountain, a cupola, and rich hanging cloths. And once again, the face that looks out at us, 1500 years later, is a real person, an astonishing woman.
In the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia - very hot, sweaty and airless - reminds me of when I was inside the great pyramid of Khufu - no ventilation there, either. According to the (very efficient) online booking system, there are only supposed to be 20 people visiting the tiny building of the mausoleum at a time. But this being Italy, nobody really bothers with counting. As a result, the air is thick with old breaths. Beautiful ceilings - the intense blue, preserved through 15 centuries. Also interesting the alabaster windows - obvious material to use if you don’t have big glass panes.
The mosaic of San Lorenzo (possibly, experts differ on who it is) - touching to see the little library of the new testament books to the left. Lots of animals, flowers, Knossos-like motifs along the bottom of the mosaics. The Garden of Eden in the vault by the door - amazingly abstract, amazingly beautiful.
Passing through the centre of Ravenna - a lovely city - to here, the Basilica of San Francesco, originally built in 450. The midday bell tolls solemnly. The main interest here is what seems to be a cistern, located under the altar. Tiny, with goldfish/carp swimming over the submerged mosaics. Reminds me of the rather grander cistern in Istanbul. Ah, apparently not a cistern, but a flooded crypt. Perhaps like the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, whose floor was raised nearly two metres to stay above the creeping ground waters.
In the baptistery of Neon. Striking ceiling, with an aquatic Jesus rendered partially underwater through lighter mosaic stones. Very varied portraits surrounding the central roundel. Hot and humid here too…
In the covered market for lunch. Like many other cities - Bilbao, Valencia etc. - these modern conversions of old buildings can be really good. This looks tasteful, and is, above all, cool… Ordered cappelletti all’uso di Romagno al ragu rosso Morabrada - very intense, very good…
Back out into the humid heat. Alas, the Arian baptistery is closed - no repeat of that beardless Jesus for us. To the basilica of Sant'Apollinare Nuovo. A church built on the orders of Theodoric himself. Sadly, his Arian beliefs, widely adopted among the Germanic tribes, but later deemed heretical, meant he and other bits were expunged, covered or replaced with dull mosaic coverings. All that can be seen are a few impetrational hands overlapping columns, like last ghostly vestiges of those sinking below the gold. Impressive, though, that the basic structure and design of this church are 1500 years old… As we leave, there is a mosaic of Classis high on the wall - once a port, now marooned miles from the sea. It’s where we will head for on our way back to the autostrada later this afternoon.
To the astounding Theodoric Mausoleum - much bigger than I thought. Massive, and not just the 230-tonne stone bloack that forms the roof. And with weird other-worldly patterns - not classical, but Gothic, presumably. Overall this seems something from another civilisation, another planet…
Out to the other basilica of Sant'Apollinare, in Classe, now a village. Wonderful to see this great church amidst the fields, not hemmed in by other buildings. Simple inside, but spacious. The eyes inevitably led to the apse and its great mosaic showing Sant'Apollinare in a paradise of green grass, populated by sheep, plants, trees, a huge cross shimmery over him, two saints on either side of it, and - rather spookily - the hand of god reaching down from the highest heaven.
Of course, all these magnificent mosaics make me think of the Capella Palatina in Palermo, and the nearby Monreale cathedral, both of which I saw at the beginning of the year. Those are in many ways more dramatic, but these in Ravenna come from around six hundred years earlier, making their survival even more miraculous. And the simple, striking fact that the 1500-year-old colours are so vibrant - like the glorious green of this church - is for me Ravenna’s most unexpected and most unforgettable gift.
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