Venice is a sanctuary for religious shrines. They are in the open, in closed spaces, large, small, stone, wood, enamel, metal, and what-have-you. Today, I present to you several shrines that I’ve come across in Venice.

I have grouped the shrines below into five categories:

Mary as the star;
Mary with a baby Jesus;
Mary with Jesus as a man;
A grown Jesus by himself; and,
Shrines with what appear to be saints of some note — some identified and some not.

Several of the shrines have an added adoring, worshiping crowd around the central figure.

“If only our own society prized such monumental reminders”

I am captivated by the effort that went into many of these works of adoration. Some are grandiose works sponsored by a patron or the Church, and they are large and ornate. Others are more obviously created by lay individuals, and these are more meaningful to me personally.

Many of the shrines are accompanied by flowers — mostly artificial. I’m not too much into artificial flowers, and I don’t see as much adoration in the one-time placement of artificial flowers as I do where fresh flowers have been periodically left by the faithful. In one shrine, flowers are part of the art work itself, painted on the substrate, along with Mary and a baby Jesus.

One shrine has a memorial (placed on a field of blue) that celebrates a family member for whom they are ‘Riconoscenti’, or Grateful, and which recognizes that he was in the war dated 1940-1945. I assume that Armando died in the war.

The oldest dated shrine has the date of 1702.

One of my favorite shrines is dedicated to Saint Antonio. This shrine is appreciated by me not only because the town of San Antonio is my birthplace, but because of the convenient slot for alms, which is labeled ‘Pani per I Poveri’ or “Bread for the Poor” (several other shrines have a less obvious slot, or place for a former slot, for donations). Saint Antonio (or Saint Anthony) is known for his devotion to the poor and the sick, and he was one of the most quickly canonized saints in church history. More importantly for those of us who can’t ever seem to find the car keys, he is the patron saint of lost things…and I’m not sure whether that means that he has found and has these things, or that he can help us find them.

For each shrine, I provide two photos — first will be the ‘snapshot’ as captured in my camera (often from quite a distance), and second will the the snapshot transformed into what I hope you would consider to be more of a work of art. So, this article has both historic content and photo transformation…a duet, of sorts.

Mary as the Star

Mary with a Baby Jesus

In a couple of these shrines, the baby Jesus is a bit obscure, in that He is shown as a medallion at Mary’s breast.

Mary with a Grown Jesus

Mary is a bit more obvious, but grown Jesus is there in the background.

Jesus as a Man

Only one in this category. A well-placed light which illuminates Jesus has been removed in the transformed version.

Shrines with What Appear to be Saints of Some Note

Here are three bonus shrines — not found in Venice, but along the Amalfi Coast and in Tuscany.

I find these shrines to be a gentle reminder: a reminder of my faith; a reminder to stop and reflect when I see them; a reminder to treat others as I want to be treated; and to love and pray for one another - especially our enemies. If only our own society prized such monumental reminders.

Ciao for now,

Steve

<<< Sign Up To Receive Articles As They Are Published >>>

Transforming the Pieta

Some of You Misunderstood!

Two weeks ago I wrote for you a widely popular posting titled 'Transforming the Copse'. Many of you emailed me to express your interest and bliss (well, maybe not bliss actually -- let's say pleasure) in seeing the multiple interpretations of that simple copse of trees.

“...two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands — all relegated to another sculptor!”

But, I must say that a few of you pointed out that you were stymied by my title, which some of you misread as 'Transforming the Corpse'.

But hey! You've given me an idea. Let's run with that misunderstood title for this weeks article!

Today I take that rather humorous misunderstanding as the subject of this week's article, which is indeed about transforming the corpse -- the most famous corpse of all: Corpus Christi.

Michelangelo's Pieta' and a Humorous Anecdote

Have you been to St Peter's Basilica in Rome? If you have, you have undoubtedly seen the Pieta' sitting to the right as you enter. And because a deranged geologist took a rock pick to the sculpture in 1972, it is now protected by bulletproof glass, which makes it a bit challenging to get a good photograph of this marvelous work of art.

Everyone knows that Michelangelo is a fabulous painter (the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, for example) and sculptor (the David statute and of course, the Pieta). And he typically did not have a huge ego problem -- for instance he never signed any of his sculptures...or did he?

Shortly after the installation of his Pieta, as he was admiring how it was being displayed, Michelangelo overheard someone remark that it was the work of another sculptor, Cristoforo Solari, rather than himself. Ouch -- two years of arduous work, marble chips flying, callouses covering his hands -- all relegated to another sculptor!

Late that night, Michelangelo made a change to the Pieta by chiseling an inscription on the sash running across Mary's chest that said, "Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florentine, made this". He later regretted his prideful outburst and swore never to sign another of his works.

Step 1: The Original Snapshot

The first photo below is my original snapshot. I had to wait for a moment when the crowds parted before taking this photo. Ooops, the security setting is now a bit obvious because of the window being reflected in the bullet-proof glass.

Step 2: A Minor Bit of Adjustment

Standing in front of this historic art work, you are mesmerized by it's beauty and you don't really notice the color cast. But now I do. So, I did a bit of work to remove the yellow cast created by the tungsten light. Then, I was able to recover some of the detail lost in the reflection. A bit of cropping resulted in the photo below.

Color cast  and distractions removed, and a bit of cropping — Color cast and distractions removed, and a bit of cropping

Step 3: The Final Transformation

I found the marble stonework in the background to be too much competition for Michelangelo's masterpiece, so I deemphasized it by darkening the background.

Next, to emphasize the texture of the stone-cutting work of Michelangelo, I worked on what we call 'mid-tone contrast' in the photo-editing world. Usually, we talk of contrast in terms of the differences in the lightest and darkest parts of an image. But here, I wanted to emphasize the differences between lighter and darker elements of the photo in the stonework itself, which is in the mid-tones of the image (i.e. not the lightest or darkest parts).

Finally, as it is that texture, and not the color, that is so important to the Pieta', I desaturated the photo just a tad to call your attention to that marvelous texture.

The resulting photo below is my interpretation of Michelangelo's work as I saw it right there with my own eyes -- with every fold and crevice created by his masterful hand vividly portrayed. And this is just the way I wanted you to see it, too.

This example of the transformation of the world's most famous corpse, as well as the other transformations you can see on my website, is what fuels my passion in photography. It's wonderful out there in the world, and I strive to show it to you in a different way, through my own eyes.

Have a comment you want to share about this transformation? Feel free to use the comment box, below.