Essay . . . A Spiritual Presence in European Places.

I was not expecting to be spiritually moved when I passed through the colonnade into Saint Peter’s Square in Rome. I stood there . . . . looking . . . then I heard someone say . . . . “Jesus Christ . . . “ It was me. An older women , dressed in black and a hood, near by, looked in shock at my exclamation, I covered my mouth. But it dawned on me later that evoking Christ’s name was totally appropriate. It was for Him they built this place. I said His name again, but to myself, as I took in the grand sweep of the stone columns, the wall of buildings. It took me a few minutes, maybe 5 minutes to take it all in. The plaza itself, the size of football field, surrounded on two sides by a wall of double column, broken by a large opening to the street beyond. Opposite the opening is the Vatican itself, a backdrop of buildings of various periods and architectural styles. In the center of it all is a fountain and a obelisk . . . the rest is cobble stone open space, room enough for thousands of people.

People, people and more people were everywhere, some standing, as I was, just looking. Others stood in a ragged line that wound around the entire inner permitter . . . shuffling their way in a line that seemed endless, everyone on their way to visit the Vatican itself. I was not about to wait in line. I just looked and drank in the space. It was one of the grandest spaces I’ve ever experienced. I was there for perhaps ten minutes before I realized I had a camera. The sky was overcast, the light was flat and uninspiring, but I had to photograph this space, at least make a document. I shot a series of over lapping images, realizing that no one image or frame could take it all in. To capture the scope of the plaza, I would have to stitch the sequence of images together in Photoshop when I got home. (see above image)

I got down off the pillar base on which I was standing, and wandered into the center of the plaza. This is were tens of thousands of believers gather to watch and hear the Pontiff celebrate mass. Large, outdoor, television screen framed the Vatican building. This could have been a sporting stadium. . . the Church was not above using the latest technology to enthrall the masses. It was spring school break week and groups of young students danced in circles or ran after each other in the football field size space. Old women and older men sat on the stone steps, bags at their side. I photographed people, the grandure of the place now replaced by the humanity that flowed in and out of the square.

A Spiritual Experience . . . .

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The Palma Cathedral

Palma, Mallorca, Spain.

A week later a similar spiritual moment captured my breath as I stood just inside the entrance to the massive cathedral in Palma on the Spanish Island of Mallorca. The towering interior, a hundred feet up, lifted my heart and I heard that voice again “. . . Jesus Christ!” I am not a religious person, or someone who practices or believes in a defined religion. I do consider myself extremely spiritual and it was this that captured me--the universal spiritually of the place. The Palma cathedral is one of the largest in all of Europe, but it was the way light moved around the interior that I found magical. At the southern end of the nave is a huge, round stained glass window that cast a multi-colored pattern of sun-light on the wall. I watched the colored light move along the all as the sun moved in the sky. This observing of time passing, marked as the light moved over the wall, or the alter was a game I played as a child when I had to sit through a Sunday service in my grandfather’s church, he being the minister. He would droning on for enterity. His sermon held little interest for my then 8 year-old soul. Today, it was early Sunday morning on this Spanish island. A handful of practitioners were in the small chapel to the side of the nave. The priest and believers were going through the mass in Spanish in a part of the Cathedral that looked as if it was designed by Salvador Dalí, slightly on the grotesque side. . . out of place in what was otherwise a traditional Gothic cathedral.

I spent an hour in the Palma Cathedral . . . quietly looking, my camera seemingly inadequate for the task of recoding this grand space. I view camera, I thought, with a tripod and a good wide angle lens was what was required. The last time I was used a view camera was while photographing the Chapter House and the “Sea of Steps” at the Cathedral in Wells, England . . . that was 30 years ago , while touring England with Kate Carter.

My life is too rushed, I thought as I studied the architecture, the sculptures, the massive “chandelier” that hung over the alter, the choir stalls, the windows that lined the eves of the room and drew my eye toward the heavens as I entered. I need time to see and realize what’s being said here, the stories. The place held magic, but as a magician myself, I began to see how the magic was created. This did not diminish the impact or the magic, but the experience did bring me to a much greater respect for and a deeper admiration for the builders and the architects, the craftspeople, who build this center of spiritual celebration, what ever one believes in. As I wandered and looked, I prayed I’d have the time in my remaining years to return to Wells, to Salisbury, and to this cathedral in Mallorca, with my view camera, to spend days and weeks in these spaces using my cameras and what small craft I possess to understand what these ancient artists were telling me.