My Kid Could Paint That

The story of the Palazzo Barberini starts with a Pope. Urban VIII, formerly Maffeo Barberini, was a religious man from a powerful Italian family that reached their height right around the time their great villa-style palace was constructed. During Urban VIII's reign he set out to beautify Rome, and in 1627, construction began on this building, as a way to glorify the family and a place to hold parties and enjoy the finer things that were still allowed by Catholicism. Urban and his brother Taddeo were very involved in this commission, arguably more than most. While the ideas for the villa-esque layout and facade originated in the heads of these brothers, the reality and the nuance of every building belongs to the architect. Or in this case, architects.

Let's start at the beginning. Even though we're really talking about Bernini and Barberini, the first architect to try their hand on this building was Carlo Maderno. After only a few years, Maderno died, leaving his brilliant assistant, Borromini, behind. Urban, a fan of Bernini at the time, caught up in his popular glow, assigned him to be the chief architect of this project. Borromini feared he'd lose his job, but Bernini was a sculptor, not an architect, and asked him specifically to stay on due to his engineering brilliance. Only Borromini could find a way to bring Bernini's designs to life. After all, what good are a building's plans if they can't be executed?

I love this building for many reasons, particularly the fact that this is really one of two buildings in the world that had both Borromini and Bernini invested and making an impact on it. There are a million things I could dive into with this building, but, for sheer lack of time and space, I'll focus on two aspects of the building that make up a single perfect metaphor. Stairs.

There are two main staircases in this funhouse. First the left side stairs, the main stairs. Bernini's attempt to display the grandeur of the Barberini family with a single feature. These stairs are classical in style, and angular, with tall pillars, and covered in relics and statues built into the very walls. It's certainly grand, but without a clear understanding of space and engineering, these stairs... well... kind of miss the mark. They're a little cramped, a little bland, a little unoriginal. Not bad, but it's clear Bernini has other "areas of expertise."

Then there are the right set of stairs, the only part of the building totally created by Borromini, and you can tell. They're different from the rest of the house. And one glance shows you why. Borromini's stairs curve up in a gorgeous elipse, white and glorious while retaining all the grace white marble should have. In the classic Borromini style, his stairs seem to make rock malleable, curving and bending at his will. These stairs, his silky fingerprint on this massive palace, are the essence of Borromini, the simple, natural beauty of his work.  

While Bernini is likely the greatest sculptor in history, these stairs are on example of Borromini transcending his architecture game in an undeniable way. This pair would feud after this until their deaths yet their cooperation has left its mark on Rome in a way that we can still see today. 

Bernini or Borromini? Borromini or Bernini? Jake Morrissey spends the majority of his book, The Genius in the Design, detailing the rivalry between these two great men. With their architectural achievements serving as his evidence Morrissey makes the argument that people are either Team Borromini or Team Bernini. And I have to admit that although I love Bernini’s sculptures, Borromini has won my architectural heart.

Four words. The San Carlino Dome. Although the entire church is absolutely stunning, there is something awe inspiring about Borromini’s dome. I opted to show you the dome as if you were standing in the middle of San Carlino’s floor, gazing upwards. In the image, you can see the columns that surround the dome in addition to the curved walls that ripple likes the waves of the ocean.

Borromini started working on San Carlino in 1634, after he left projects for the Palazzo Barberini and St. Peter’s due to “artistic differences” with Bernini. In true Borromini fashion, he agreed to design the plans for San Carlo free of charge.

If you were to describe San Carlino in three words, I would use moment, white, and metaphoric. Borromini despised corners, so in all his works when he could, he beautifully blended the walls to make their seams appear nonexistent. By alternating columns, walls, and bulbs throughout the church, he gives the building breath. San Carlino breathes with the dome serving as heart of our building turned lifeform.

Not a decorating fanatic, Borromini opted for white stucco everything. The stark white walls and details of the church bring out Borromini's architectural brilliance.

As for evidence of Borromini’s talents with metaphors let’s return to his dome. The honeycomb design of the dome itself parallels the Barberini (Pope Urban) family crest which contains three bees. Borromini references bees in order to pay homage to both Pope Urban and the Barberini family their monetary contributions to San Carlino. In the center of the dome, with the circle encompassing the triangle and the dove inside the triangle, Borromini’s references the circle to show the eternal life of God, the triangle for the holy Trinity, and the dove to show the holy spirit. Borromini’s attention to detail and symbology demonstrates his deep devotion and faith.

I teared up a little bit, looking at the dome of San Carlino, marveling at Borromini’s ability to make his architecture appear so effortless. His lines are not forced or aggressive, but supple and easy-going. Borromini does not force his architecture on you, he lets the viewer walk right into it. He doesn’t rely on elaborate coloring, materials, or theatrics to win you over. His craftsmen does all the talking, and I admire that.

I wish we still took as much pleasure, and care in the construction of buildings today. Can you imagine if instead of looking to construct a building in the cheapest way possible, we gave architects creative liberty to define a place? Today we complain about feelings of placelessness, and this explains why we got lost in the Borromini’s work because he makes us nostalgic for a sense of place. He gives us more than a building. Borromini gives us a part of our humanity back.

Sant'ivo, also known as the Palace of Wisdom, was created by Borromini in 1642 and was completed in 1660. His determination for Sant'ivo was much more grand than other projects he worked previously on. He wanted to make Sant'ivo a place to show his respect to God and express his emotions and ideas. Borromini's inspiration was deeply personal, which helped Borromini successfully complete his ideal church. 

Just like people say, Simple is better. Sant'ivo was aimed to be designed in simpler form, but main focus was put into the dome and the lantern. The dome was created with simple shapes that included triangles, circles, semi-circles, and curves to create depth and pentagram of alternating curves. The Dome was decorated with sculpted angels and stars. The interior wall was covered in white and gray paint to show purity. Although the Dome is short, it rises up to the lantern which was also known as tempietto at the time. It was designed in spiral form to lead up to an altar. The altar is topped with stone sculptures of torches that symbolize knowledge.