Art – Tony Lusvardi, S.J.

Sant’ Andrea al Quirinale — Bernini’s favorite church

A few weeks ago I shared some reflections on taking my final vows as a Jesuit, a tremendously blessed moment for me. Today I thought I might add a few words and pictures about the place where I took those vows: the Church of Sant’Andrea al Quirinale.

Since Rome is packed with stunningly beautiful churches, sometimes those that would be at the top of the visitor’s itinerary anywhere else in the world end up being overlooked. Sant’Andrea al Quirinale is one of those. It should be numbered among the most important Jesuit churches in the world, but in Rome it has to compete with the Gesù–site of the body of St. Ignatius and the arm of St. Francis Xavier–and Sant’Ignazio–the onetime chapel of the Roman College, as the Gregorian University was first known. Both churches are enormous, paradigmatic examples of the baroque at its most overwhelming.

Sant’Andrea is tiny by comparison, but don’t let size mislead you. It was the chapel of the first Jesuit novitiate; in an adjoining room, one can visit the relics of St. Stanislaus Kostka, patron of Jesuit novices and of students, who died there in 1568 at the age of 17.

While it stood on the site of an early church dedicated to Andrew the Apostle, the present Sant’Andrea (built in 1658) was designed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Bernini, who was busy at the time decorating the interior of St. Peter’s Basilica and building the colonnade for St. Peter’s Square, refused to take a commission for Sant’Andrea. It was said to be his favorite work, and, as he aged, the great artist was sometimes seen sitting alone inside the church, enjoying its peaceful atmosphere.

Reflections on Antoni Gaudí and the meaning of the Sagrada Familia

A few weeks ago I alluded to a somewhat unexpected trip I made to Barcelona before Easter and put up a few pictures of the Sagrada Familia (here and here) and Casa Batlló, two of the most iconic works of the architect Antoni Gaudí. This year happens to be the 100th anniversary of Gaudí’s death, which will coincide with the visit of Pope Leo XIV to Spain. The aim of the trip was to write a reflection on the meaning of Gaudí’s great work for America magazine. The article is now out here, and I have to say it is one of my favorite pieces — no doubt because the subject is so beautiful and fascinating.

For good measure, I thought I’d share a few more photos for your reflection and enjoyment:

St. George in legend and in architecture

April 23 is the feast day of St. George, a saint whose popularity — as well as just about everything we know about him — is legendary. The saint hailed from the Christian east — possibly from Cappadocia in present-day Turkey — but seems to have been martyred in the late third century in what is today Israel. George was a soldier who converted to Christianity. He was put to death after refusing to sacrifice to Rome’s pagan gods and undergoing excruciating tortures.

This defiant courage when standing up to a more powerful foe is perhaps what has made the figure of St. George resonate with so many throughout history. Perhaps it also contributed to the legendary stories of St. George slaying a dragon who was oppressing a Christian population. The saint is particularly popular among Arab Christians, who have long lived under the yoke of Muslim rule, and across the eastern Mediterranean — in Greece and Malta, for example, communities menaced for centuries by invasion from various Islamic empires pushing westward.

St. George, in fact, has found popularity wherever an underdog has felt the need for a champion. He is the patron, along with St. Sebastian, of one of Rome’s station churches. This year when I traveled to Barcelona (which I mentioned here and here), I learned that George is the patron of that city as well. The legend of St. George fits, in an unexpected way, into one of the city’s best known architectural monuments, Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Batlló.

Egyptians and the afterlife

Romans have been fascinated with Ancient Egypt since before the time of the Caesars. Egypt was for them what Ancient Rome is for us–a powerful, slightly exotic civilization whose influence and fascination extends to the present day. Roman Emperors went to great lengths to bring Egyptian artifacts back to decorate the imperial capital, and today there are more Egyptian obelisks standing in the city of Rome than in Egypt itself.

Part of the fascination of Egypt for the Romans no doubt had to do with the religious intensity of the Egyptians. And that religious intensity, in turn, was concentrated on the life to come. The resources the Ancient Egyptians put into ensuring survival and flourishing in the next life continue to amaze. This aspect of Egyptian civilization is prominently featured in a special exhibit at Rome’s Scuderia del Quirinale (which hosted a fine exhibit on Guercino and the Roman baroque that I wrote about last year). The exhibit sensitively explains important aspects of the Egyptians’ belief system; the gold that covers ancient sarcophagi and death masks, for example, was not ancient bling meant to show off status, but a symbol of incorruptibility, a sign of hope in a new life that would not tarnish.

Easter images from the Sagrada Familia

Christ is risen! Happy Easter!

Last week I shared some photos from the stark Passion Facade of Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Not all is doom and gloom at the Basilica, of course, and, in fact, visiting the church is a amazingly uplifting experience.

The Glory Facade remains to be built, so we still can only imagine what is planned to be the most beautiful part of the whole project. But enough parts of the Basilica already suggest the victory of the Resurrection. High above the scenes of the Passion, in fact, one can see the women visiting the now empty tomb and, above that, a bronze figure of Christ ascending.

The Passion Facade of the Sagrada Família

Recently, I was fortunate to be able to take a brief trip to Barcelona for a research project (more on that to come). I spent as much time as I could at Antoni Gaudí’s marvel, La Sagrada Família (more on that, as well).

The entire basilica is a marvel, a deeply spiritual and prophetic building. This Holy Week, I thought it would be appropriate to share some photos of the Façana de la Passió, the Passion Facade. The sculptures broadly follow Gaudí’s instructions, though they are the work of Josep Maria Subirachs. If anything, the sculptures are even more harsh and austere than Gaudí’s original sketches. The hardness of the work is actually in keeping with Gaudí’s instructions.

Doubting Caravaggio’s Doubting Thomas

The Incredulity of St. Thomas, Caravaggio (1602-7)

Readers of this blog will know that one of the delights of living in the center of Rome is that a Caravaggio is never more than a stroll away. I’ve written about the great spiritual insight in Caravaggio’s Matthew cycle in the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi. Last year, I reflected in The Catholic Thing on why Caravaggio so resonates with contemporary viewers after visiting an extraordinary exhibit of his work in Palazzo Barberini.

At the tail end of the Jubilee I caught another extraordinary exhibit, albeit of just one Caravaggio, at Sant’Agnese in Agone. The work, The Incredulity of St. Thomas (1602-7), was on loan from a private collection in Florence. It’s a work full of drama and humanity and shows Thomas wide-eyed while inserting his index finger into the Risen Lord’s side. Jesus himself is utterly serene as he guides the doubting apostle’s hand toward his torso. (A nice detail is that the Lord’s face seems a bit sunburned, while his body is not.) Two other apostles look on over Thomas’s shoulder with both concentration and astonishment.

Radiant in the darkness: Caravaggio 2025

Caravaggio, Flagellation of Christ, 1607

Several weeks ago I spent a wonderful afternoon at a special exhibit of 24 paintings by Caravaggio brought together in Palazzo Barberini and dubbed Caravaggio 2025. The exhibition made me wonder at Caravaggio’s extraordinary popularity. Why is Caravaggio so popular today? And what does this tell us about where we are spiritually? I think the answer is not unrelated to the other recent events in Rome: the election of a missionary as Pope Leo XIV; our new Holy Father’s goal of steering the Church faithfully through the digital revolution, just as Leo XIII provided guidance during the industrial revolution; and this Jubilee year’s theme of hope.

I’ll have more on Pope Leo soon. For now, suffice it to say that the mood here in Rome is elated. In the meantime, you can read my thoughts on Caravaggio at The Catholic Thing.

While you’re at it, check out some reflections from a few months back on the artist’s spectacular St. Matthew cycle and a different conversion of St. Paul. And there’s plenty of other great work at The Catholic Thing, including, if you missed it, an explanation of why I think my book on baptism of desire is so important at this time when renewing the Church’s missionary spirit is such a vital challenge: Getting Back into the Baptizing Business. The price on Amazon seems to have dropped a bit recently.

The Certosa di San Martino and the Neapolitan baroque

Inside the choir of the Certosa di San Martino (Naples)

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the connection between the baroque style, the Jesuits, and the city of Rome. It’s hard to find a city that can outdo Rome in baroqueness, though Naples gives the Eternal City a run for its money. I took a day trip down to Naples in mid-March to meet up with my parents who were vacationing there and was reminded what a treasure trove of marvels that city is.

We got in to visit one of the sights I’ve been wanting to see for a long time, Giuseppe Sanmartino’s Veiled Christ (1753). I had seen pictures before of this virtuoso use of marble–carved as if a thin, almost translucent, shroud had been draped over the figure of the dead Christ. What makes the sculpture so moving, however–something I hadn’t appreciated until seeing it in person–is the liquid quality the shroud creates. The way it clings to the flesh below, with the wounds visible through it, and pools around the edge of the body almost makes you feel the life draining from the corpse. The rest of the chapel is chockfull of allegorical figures, though photography is prohibited inside, so you’ll just have to go to Naples to see for yourself!

One of the visit’s surprises was to discover the Certosa di San Martino, a Carthusian Monastery, now a museum, tucked under imposing walls of the Castle of Sant’Elmo overlooking the city. We went up for the view from the Vomero hill and just happened into the Certosa, founded in 1368 but redone in extravagant baroque in 1623.

Guercino, Rome, and the Jesuit baroque

One is always discovering new artists in Rome, and earlier this year, thanks to a special exhibit at the Scuderie del Quirinale and the recommendation of a friend, I discovered Guercino (1591-1666). Born Giovanni Francesco Barbieri in Cento (Emilia-Romagna), he worked in Rome when baroque art was at its zenith.

The exhibit was of particular interest to me because Guercino’s time in Rome corresponded to the period when the Jesuits were also at their zenith. The pope who proved to be Guercino’s great patron, Gregory XV (Alessandro Ludovisi), also favored the Society of Jesus, especially in its mission of spreading Catholicism around the globe.

The Jesuits have often been associated with the baroque because it was the artistic style in vogue around the time of our founding, so our great Roman churches, the Gesù and Sant’Ignazio — and all the other Jesuit churches around the world built to imitate them — are classic examples of baroque architecture.