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Aerial view of St. Peter's. Rome. Nave and facade by Carlo Maderno, 1607-15;
colonnade by Gianlorenzo Bernini, designed 1657
Carlo Maderno. Nave,
with Gianlorenzo Bernini's Tabernacle (1624-33) at crossing, St.
Peter's, Rome
Carlo Maderno
Carlo Maderno, (born 1556, Bissone,
Milan—died Jan. 30, 1629, Rome), leading Roman architect of the
early 17th century, who determined the style of early Baroque
architecture.
Maderno began his architectural
career in Rome assisting his uncle Domenico Fontana. His first major
Roman commission, the facade of Santa Susanna (1597–1603), led to
his appointment in 1603 as the chief architect for Saint Peter’s. In
1607 he designed the nave and a new facade for Saint Peter’s and was
made architect to Pope Paul V. Maderno’s additions to Saint Peter’s
were consonant with the spirit of the Counter-Reformation; by adding
the nave he transformed Michelangelo’s Greek-cross plan into a
longitudinal one, thus reverting to the scheme of early Christian
and Medieval cathedrals. His facade has been both criticized for
impairing the effect of Michelangelo’s dome and admired for its
forceful grouping of huge engaged columns. The only building
completely designed by Maderno is Santa Maria della Vittoria
(1608–20); all his other projects, such as San Andrea della Valle
and the Palazzo Barberini (1625), were either works he only began or
other architects’ works he finished. The Palazzo Barberini, which
Maderno designed for the family of Pope Urban VIII, was completed by
Francesco Borromini and Gian Lorenzo Bernini, whose works were
influenced by Maderno.
Encyclopædia Britannica
Carlo Maderno.
Facade of St. Peter's
Basilica
Carlo Maderno.
The facade of Santa Susanna,
Rome.
Gianlorenzo Bernini, design
for the new facade of the Louvre, first proposal, 1664-65.
Musee du Louvre, Paris.
Francesco Borromini
As a personality, Bernini
represents a type we first met among the artists of the Early
Renaissance, a self-assured, expansive person of the world. His
great rival in architecture, Francesco Borromini (1599-1667), was
the very opposite: a secretive and emotionally unstable genius who
died by suicide. The Baroque heightened the tension between the two
types. The temperamental contrast between the two masters would be
evident from their works alone, even without the testimony of
contemporary witnesses. Both exemplify the climax of Baroque
architecture in Rome, yet Bernini's design for the colonnade of St.
Peter's is dramatically simple and unified, while Borromini's
structures are extravagantly complex. Bernini himself agreed with
those who denounced Borromini for flagrantly disregarding the
classical tradition, enshrined in Renaissance theory and practice,
that architecture must reflect the proportions of the human body.
In Borromini's first major project,
the church of S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, it is
the syntax, not the vocabulary, that is new and disquieting. The
ceaseless play of concave and convex surfaces makes the entire
structure seem elastic, "pulled out of shape" by pressures that no
previous building could have withstood. The plan is a pinched oval
suggesting a distended and half-melted Greek cross, as if it had
been drawn on rubber. The inside of the dome, too, looks "stretched
: if the tension were relaxed, it would snap back to normal. The
facade was designed almost 30 years later, and the pressures and counterpressures here reach their maximum intensity. Borromini
merges architecture and sculpture in a way that must have shocked
Bernini. No such fusion had been ventured since Gothic art. S. Carlo
alle Quattro Fontane established Borromini's local and international
fame. "Nothing similar," wrote the head of the religious order for
which the church was built, "can be found anywhere in the world.
This is attested by the foreigners who . . . try to procure copies
of the plan. We have been asked for them by Germans, Flemings,
Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, and even Indians."
Francesco Borromini.
Facade, S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, Rome. 1665-67
Plan of S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane. Begun 1638
Dome. S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane
Francesco Borromini. Facade
of San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane.
The design of Borromini's next
church, S. Ivo, is more compact and equally
daring. Its plan, a star-hexagon, belongs unequivocally to the
central type. Here Borromini may have been thinking of octagonal
structures, such as S. Vitale in Ravenna. But
he did not subdivide the space into a tall, domed "nave" ringed by
an ambulatory or chapels. Instead he covered all of it with one
great dome, continuing the star-hexagon pattern up to the circular
base of the lantern. Here again the concave-convex rhythm dominates
the entire design. The structure might almost be described as a
larger version of the Temple of Venus at Baalbek, turned inside out.
A third project by Borromini is of
special interest as a High Baroque critique of St. Peter's. Maderno
had found one problem insoluble: although his new facade forms an
impressive unit with Michelangelo's dome when seen from a distance,
the dome is gradually hidden by the facade as we approach the
church. Borromini designed the facade of S. Agnese in Piazza Navona with this conflict in mind. Its lower part is adapted
from the facade of St. Peter's, but it curves inward, so that the
dome (a tall, slender version of Michelangelo's dome) functions as
the upper part of the facade. The dramatic juxtaposition of concave
and convex, always characteristic of Borromini, is further
emphasized by the two towers, which form a monumental triad with the
dome. (Such towers were also once planned for St. Peter's.) Once
again Borromini joins Gothic and Renaissance features—the two-tower
facade and the dome—into a remarkably "elastic" compound.
Francesco Borromini. Sant'Ivo
alla Sapienza, courtyard and facade.
Francesco Borromini.
Section, S. Ivo, Rome. Begun 1642
Dome. S. Ivo
Francesco Borromini. S. Agnese in Piazza Navona, Rome. 1653 — 63
Francesco Borromini. S. Agnese in Piazza Navona, Rome. 1653 — 63
Francesco Borromini. Oratory
of Saint Phillip Neri
Francesco Borromini
Francesco Borromini, original name
Francesco Castelli (born Sept. 25, 1599, Bissone, Duchy of
Lombardy—died Aug. 2, 1667, Rome), Italian architect who was a chief
formulator of Baroque architectural style. Borromini (who changed
his name in about 1627) secured a reputation throughout Europe with
his striking design for a small church, S. Carlo alle Quattro
Fontane, Rome. He differed from Gian Lorenzo Bernini and other
contemporaries in basing his designs on geometric figures (modules)
rather than on the proportions of the human body.
Youth and education.
Born to Giovanni Domenico Castelli and Anastasia Garogo, Borromini
was introduced to the craft specialities of architecture when his
father sent him to Milan (1608 or 1614) to learn stonecutting. After
several years training in the skills and technology of both
architecture and sculpture, he collected a debt owed to his father
and, without informing his parents, fled to Rome in 1620. There he
became a draftsman and stonemason in the office of his kinsman,
Carlo Maderno, who had established himself as the major practicing
architect in Italy.
Celibate and irascible, Borromini
dedicated himself to the discipline of architecture. Maderno quickly
recognized Borromini’s potential. The aging master and his young
pupil worked together closely on various problems at St. Peter’s,
whose fundamental plan was revised by Maderno. For the Palazzo
Barberini, Maderno determined a basic concept, then entrusted
Borromini with the realization of specifics. A convergence of both
talents produced the facade design of S. Andrea della Valle, and
Borromini was permitted to undertake the lantern of the church’s
dome himself. Borromini’s personality is apparent in these projects,
though Maderno’s style dominates them. A facade to be attached to
the late 16th-century oval church of S. Anna dei Palafrenieri was
Borromini’s personal project. His attempt to integrate a five-bay
front and two towers with the existing oval dome prefigured his S.
Agnese in Agone (in Piazza Navona) in its placement of plastic
volumes in space. Equally significant was his transformation of
Maderno’s plan for S. Ignazio. Through his use of pairs of
free-standing columns, he suggested an articulation of space, a
major characteristic of his style. Space in his structures is not
merely a void but rather something corporeal, an element in itself,
molded by the surrounding shell of the building. Later he would
develop this concept by replacing the enclosing wall with an
extensively penetrated framework, as in the Re Magi chapel.
Maderno died in January 1629, three
months after construction had begun at the Palazzo Barberini. The
famous Gian Lorenzo Bernini was put in charge of this project,
though his architectural abilities were underdeveloped. Borromini
continued in a key position, working out the specifics of Maderno’s
plan and collaborating successfully with Bernini. The patron,
however, began to draw heavily on the advice of a third designer,
Pietro da Cortona, and eventually abandoned Maderno’s project for
the east facade of the palace. Unable to work with Cortona and
despairing of these changes, Borromini left the project in 1631.
Together with Bernini he dedicated himself entirely to the task of
designing the baldachin in St. Peter’s, which was conceived as a
monumental canopy raised over the tomb of St. Peter, recalling the
canopy that is traditionally supported over the pope when he is
carried in state through the church. The enormous bronze baldachin
was realized through the closest cooperation between Borromini and
Bernini; the huge, S-shaped volutes that crown four corkscrew
columns are their most important common creation. Bernini was in
command of all enterprises at St. Peter’s, but he paid Borromini a
substantial sum from 1631 to 1633 for this work, indicating the
great importance of his contribution.
An independent architect.
The baldachin was completed in 1633. The year before, on the
commendation of Bernini and Cardinal Francesco Barberini, Borromini
was awarded the office of university architect. With his new
position as support, he began to seek patronage as an independent
architect. His first independent commission represented an
extraordinary challenge to tradition; it was the Roman church and
monastery of S. Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, begun in 1638. No larger
inside than the dimensions of a single pier at St. Peter’s, the
small church electrified Rome, and its reputation spread like
wildfire through Europe. Borromini began by stacking together three
distinct units that normally would have been employed only in
separate buildings: a curious, undulating lower zone; a middle one
suggesting the standard Greek-cross plan; and an oval dome, a
relatively new and still little-used form. This audacious
combination of precedent and novelty is integrated by complex,
interweaving rhythms. Bold, illusionistic effects, achieved by
calculated lighting, intensify the space. The dome appears to be
floating above the interior of the church like a hallucinatory
vision because its springing point and light sources are concealed
by the zone below.
Borromini established contacts with
the eminent Spada family and was also sponsored by Pope Innocent X
for a decade, but his relations with patrons were frequently stormy
and at times reached an impasse because of his intransigent, defiant
attitude. Though bitterly resentful of what he felt to be a lack of
just recognition, he was indifferent toward wealth and rejected the
fashions of normal dress. Intractable and melancholic, he was
infamous for his fits of rage. On one of his building sites he was
infuriated to discover a man damaging some materials and had him so
violently beaten that he died.
Given Borromini’s gloomy
disposition, it is not surprising that a conflict developed with the
famous and popular Bernini. While they were working together, the
relationship between the two artistic giants had been mutually
profitable: Borromini’s style was injected with a new vitality under
Bernini’s influence, and Bernini was strongly impressed by
Borromini’s novel formulations of architectural detail. Later,
however, a bitter conflict arose between them. Perhaps Borromini’s
subordinate position at St. Peter’s sufficiently rankled him to
provoke his departure. He definitely felt this way later in life,
claiming that Bernini had begged him not to abandon him on the work
at St. Peter’s and had promised to recognize his many labours with a
worthy reward. Borromini said that after he had carried out the
work, Bernini withheld the remunerations and rewards and never gave
him anything except good words and grand promises.
Divergent characters, disparate
backgrounds, and different attitudes toward life presumably provoked
the antagonism. Bernini worked easily with the aristocratic and
powerful; immensely successful as a sculptor and painter as well as
an architect, he was outgoing, charming, and witty. Borromini, on
the other hand, was a lonely, withdrawn man; he prided himself on
his highly specialized training, and he resented his modest degree
of recognition. Conflict between the two became public in 1645 over
the decision to eliminate the towers Maderno had designed for the
facade of St. Peter’s. Maderno left them as substructures, and in
1636 Bernini submitted a proposal for completing them. After one was
erected, however, technical deficiencies halted further construction
in 1641, and four years later a commission decided on its removal.
Borromini emerged as Bernini’s most effective and destructive
critic, accusing him of incompetence. Bernini seldom indulged in
professional envy, however, but, during his Paris visit of 1665, he
accused Borromini of abandoning the anthropometric basis of
architecture. Because the body of Adam was modelled not only by God
but also in his image and likeness, it was argued, the proportions
of buildings should be derived from those of the body of man and
woman. Borromini, however, based his buildings on geometric
configurations in an essentially medieval manner that he probably
learned in Lombardy, where medieval building procedures had been
handed down from generation to generation. Borromini’s approach
consisted of establishing a geometric figure for a building or room,
then articulating this figure by means of geometric subunits. He
thus stood accused of denying the basis of good architecture. He
never divorced himself completely from the anthropometric basis of
design, however; he insisted, at least once, that his architecture
contained human references. The concave facade of St. Philip Neri
represented to him the welcoming gesture of outstretched arms: the
central unit stood for the chest, the two-part wings for arm and
forearm.
The bizarre quality of Borromini’s
designs was as unsettling as his departure from anthropomorphism.
Even his supporters felt uneasy with his novel creations. Presumably
his license departed too far from orthodox interpretations of
antiquity, which were accepted at this time as the fundamental
standards of form for architecture. This seems paradoxical because
he was an avid student of the ancient world: his drawings of antique
fragments demonstrate a critical contact with Roman architecture,
and his evocations of classical thought on the project for the Villa
Pamphili at San Pancrazio are recorded with philological exactness.
Nevertheless, the notion was in the air that it was possible to use
and then progress beyond the achievements of antiquity, and
Borromini strongly identified with this attitude. He said that he
certainly would never have given himself to architecture with the
idea of being merely a “copyist,” and he invoked the example of
Michelangelo, who said that he who follows others never goes ahead.
Borromini declared antiquity and nature to be his points of
departure (although he included the work of Michelangelo as well),
but he actually spurned the regular and orthodox compositional
motifs of the ancient world. Instead he turned to novel, curious,
and marvelous interpretations, such as could be found in Hadrian’s
Villa at Tivoli, and to Roman structural achievements, such as their
brickwork and their use of bevelled corners for vault supports.
Just as Borromini’s attitude toward
antiquity was uncommon, so too were his historical roots in medieval
architecture in an era that had rejected medieval culture as
corrupt. Yet his tendency toward the annulment of the wall, his use
of structural ribwork to strengthen vaults, his designs derived from
geometric configurations, his use of decorative motifs, and perhaps
even his awareness that light can be given major compositional
importance, all represent ideas that originated in the medieval
experience. Closer to his own time, Borromini investigated certain
formal qualities found in both Florentine architecture of the 15th
century and Mannerist architecture of the 16th century, especially
in that of Michelangelo, whose architecture was of decisive
importance and suggested Borromini’s still more radical experiments.
The manner in which space seemed to expand and contract in a number
of Michelangelo’s designs indicated to Borromini the dynamic
potential of this medium. Responding to the past with greater
freedom than his contemporaries, Borromini employed those elements
that suited his purposes.
This broad selection of styles was
complemented by his understanding of structures and materials. The
artisan tradition of Lombardy stressed technical excellence, which
provided Borromini with the knowledge to approach a full range of
structural problems. It gave him a firm base for his technical
virtuosity, which is demonstrated by a long list of achievements.
Among these achievements are: the careful balancing of his towers
for the facade of St. Peter’s; the supporting metal cage for a
barrel vault in the Palazzo Pamphili in Piazza Navona; the precise
brickwork of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri; and his inventive domes
and vaults, such as those of S. Ivo della Sapienza or the Re Magi
chapel. He used the building yard as an extension of his drafting
table and as a place where he could experiment and improvise to
generate a fruitful exchange between design and execution. At S.
Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, for example, the three-dimensional curve
of the arches opening to the chapel vaults, as well as other
features, could not have been realized without Borromini’s personal
guidance of the stonecutters on the site.
Borromini’s urban sensibilities
were also highly developed, as one of his unexecuted schemes
demonstrates. He wished to create a dynamic setting for the facade
of S. Giovanni in Laterano by means of a piazza. The street passing
through this space was to be surrounded by 24 uniform building
fronts, establishing a large-scale, tightly organized arrangement of
spaces. Always alert in his commissions to contextual
interpretations, he displayed a deep sensitivity to the relationship
of his buildings to the surrounding urban fabric. The bell-tower
facade of St. Philip Neri, for example, is composed to conclude and
monumentalize the street running up to it.
Later years and influence.
Even late in his life, Borromini’s innovations continued to be as
energetic and radical as ever. For the Re Magi chapel in the
Collegio di Propaganda Fide, on which he worked until his death, he
designed six pairs of colossal pilasters to define a generally
rectangular space with bevelled corners.
In the 1660s, Borromini’s fortunes
tragically declined. He was increasingly frustrated by the fame and
success of his rival, Bernini. His only disciple, Francesco Righi,
and his most sympathetic patron, Padre Virgilio Spada, both died
early in the decade. His major commission of S. Agnese in Agone, in
Piazza Navona, was taken from him; work on another of his projects,
S. Andrea delle Fratte, came to a halt; and his facade of St. Philip
Neri was disfigured by lateral extensions. Suffering severe
melancholia, he travelled to Lombardy, but when he returned to Rome
his melancholy returned to him, and he spent whole weeks without
ever leaving his house. Borromini burned all of his drawings in his
possession. Taken ill, his condition was made worse by hypochondriac
hallucinations and, when he suffered fits, it was decided that he
should be denied all activity so that he might sleep. On a hot
summer’s night, unable to rest and forbidden to work, he arose in a
fury, found a sword, and fell upon it. Borromini recovered a lucid
mind after mortally wounding himself, repented, received the last
sacraments of the church, and wrote his will before he died. At his
own request, he was buried anonymously in the grave of his teacher
and friend, Maderno. It has been suggested that Borromini’s suicide
was the result of an increasing schizophrenia and that this
pathological process is reflected in his architecture, but this
contention is impossible to demonstrate. His career appears to have
been successful until the disillusionments of the last years.
In denying the restrictive,
enclosing qualities of wall in order to treat space and light as
architectonic components, Borromini confronted his architectural
inheritance with its most complete and compelling challenge. Scores
of designers would capitalize upon this revolutionary legacy.
Borromini’s works from the first had created an uproar in Rome, and
his influence proved highly suggestive for design in northern Italy
and in central Europe over the course of the next century. Later, as
Neoclassical attitudes gained force, he was increasingly despised.
Largely forgotten during most of the 19th century, Borromini’s
architecture has again been recognized in the 20th century as the
creation of genius.
Christian F. Otto
Encyclopædia Britannica |
