SENA KAYASÜ (ARCH/III)
sena.kayasu@ug.bilkent.edu.tr

In the summer of 2014, I had the single most amazing travel experience of my life: Italy for two weeks with the Department of Architecture class of 2016. I love traveling, and I do as much of it as I can, but this was different. As a group of third-year architecture students (or, as we rather egotistically like to call ourselves, ARCH 2016), we went on a Study Abroad Program organized by two of our professors, who accompanied us. We visited Rome, Florence, Venice, Verona and Milan; not too shabby.

When I look back, I mostly remember all the sunlight and the inevitable backpack I had to carry, mostly containing my sketch materials, water and the omnipresent shawl that let me enter the rather amazing churches despite my shorts.

After that initial flashback, I remember the architecture, which was, of course, the main point of the trip. In this sense, the country was pretty familiar. Most of the buildings and piazzas we saw were those we’d already studied in class. Of course, there were a few that stood out. To make this article bearable, I’m going to limit my selection of these to one in each city.

First, we have the Pantheon in Rome. There are various famous landmarks in Rome, and many, such as the Trevi Fountain, aren’t enclosed structures. Others, such as those in Vatican City, were just too crowded to be enjoyable. Despite the grandeur and sheer interior height of St. Peter’s Basilica (which almost made me want to convert—are these people serious?), my one building in Rome has to be the Pantheon. It has to be. We got to the Pantheon after a very busy morning, passing through many small, crowded, traditional pedestrian streets along the way, until I saw something that didn’t quite fit the picture. I glimpsed it only out of the corner of my eye, since ahead of me I saw more of the same streets and piazzas. The enormous, ancient, darkened stone wall, which must surely have stood alone and proud in its glory days, has now become squished in among centuries’ worth of houses and shops. The largest dome of its time and a formidable structure, it’s actually the size of a conventional modern apartment building in Rome, so that you can’t really see it until you’re right next to it.

It must be said, though, that its changing context has not been able to alter the quality of its presence. I knew all about it before I entered it: its construction in concrete, its innovative double-shell structure that creates a useful space between its walls, its perfect spherical shape (43.3 m in every direction), the “coffered” interior of its dome…. And yet, as I passed through its colossal doors, I felt like I was entering an unknown territory. In fact, it was like entering another dimension. When I looked up at the ceiling and saw the oculus, time slowed and the space became quiet (possibly owing to the fact that the structure allows for supernatural acoustics). The gargantuan columns of the same darkened, aged stone on the portico must have helped: I honestly felt like I was crossing into the Roman era as I stepped over the threshold. The whole space is just pure. It makes you feel pure along with it. Even though the building has only one source of light, it feels illuminated to the point where you assume divine intervention. The Pantheon, although converted into a religious building by the Catholic Church, carries the simplicity of ancient times. It earns its name, meaning “of all the gods,” because it feels like it cannot have been built without the contribution of all the gods. Modern-day observers probably don’t partake of the ancient faith, but they would have to agree that the Romans did a pretty good job of conveying their divine message.

I could talk about Pantheon for this whole piece. I could, in fact, talk about it for several issues of Bilkent News. But you, the reader, were promised four buildings, and four you will get.

So we move on to Florence. Anyone with any general knowledge of architecture will know about my building in Florence—although, technically, it’s not a building. It’s a structure: the dome of the Basilica of Santa Maria del Fiore, also known as Il Duomo di Firenze, or simply Il Duomo. Architecturally speaking, it turned over a new leaf in history in a variety of ways. The Dome had to be designed and built much later than the rest of the basilica, which was pretty strange. But Brunelleschi managed to pull it off, creating what is possibly the most distinctive sculpture in the Florence skyline. It takes about twenty minutes to climb the 400-plus steps that lead up to the top, but it’s definitely worth it for the view—and the experience of walking between two huge brick shells. Even my claustrophobic friends ended up being glad they had gone up. My one suggestion, though, would be to do it first thing in the morning. You will not enjoy the climb after even half a day’s exertion.

Then, Verona: the Museum of Castelvecchio by Carlo Scarpa. This is a pretty cool modern building that is hidden inside a pretty intimidating medieval castle, literally “the old castle.” I’ll go into more detail about this in two weeks when I talk about Venice, because we can’t really talk about Scarpa without talking about Venice.

Last but not least, we have Milan. This time, the building is Il Duomo di Milano: an enormous cathedral. I almost couldn’t enter it because I’d forgotten my shawl (hint, hint, girls) but a very kind police officer tolerated my barely knee-length shorts. As it turns out, I would have missed so much if he hadn’t. Even though the building doesn’t indicate it from the outside, the interior is awesome. I actually mean that it inspires awe, because if the columns in front of the Pantheon were gargantuan, I cannot find a word to describe the ones in this cathedral’s interior. The outside is memorably pretty, considering its Gothic appearance; I must say, however, that the interior must be personally experienced, as it is something else entirely.

To be continued, with Venice…