In the mid-1970s, when I would see the Rolling Stones in concert, I made it a point not to know the publicized set list of the band before I went to the show. The day after the concert, friends would approach me asking, “What did they play?,” and there were always a few surprises. I applied the same idea to visiting Rome’s Borghese Gallery on a trip to Italy last year. I didn’t go online to see what they held, though I did know that Raphael’s The Deposition was a major feature of their collection. On a previous trip to Rome in 1983, I had told my friends that the Raphael was one reason I was making the trek to Europe. I had been greatly disappointed to find the gates to the Borghese shuttered when I arrived back then, and cursed my travel agent (in my head) for not alerting me that the museum wasn’t open the week of my trip. Well over a decade later, I discovered that the Borghese was closed for several years for renovations and that I hadn’t suffered a case of bad timing the day I’d been there after all.

Sacred and Profane Love, Galleria Borghese. Credit: Wikipedia

First off, I want to say I hadn’t been to Europe since 1991 and I consider myself very, very lucky to have been in the position to go with my family and some friends in 2010. I call Europe “the living museum,” and a trip to Italy offers one both a tour of the Renaissance era and an education in ancient wonders and monuments. I was constantly surprised that places I’d visited in 1983 were completely different than I remembered: the church with Michelangelo’s statue of The Moses was much larger than I recalled; the large works of Caravaggio displayed in the church of San Luigi dei Francesi had deep, rich, textured colors in oil that I had remembered as light and weak and almost fresco-like; and the Roman Colosseum was about ten times the size of what I’d thought it was. It was truly awe-inspiring.

I’ve read extensively material from ancient Rome as well as many biographies of Imperial era Emperors. Ronald Syme’s book The Roman Revolution coalesced all of my studies in its analysis of Julius Caesar’s historical period. When I visit the Metropolitan Museum, I take a seat on a bench in The Leon Levy and Shelby White Court and meditate on the few Roman sarcophaguses amongst the beautifully laid out holdings of ancient statues. When I reached Rome’s National Gallery last year, I entered a vast outdoor courtyard with dozens and dozens of such statues and sarcophaguses both under a large portico and scattered within the garden itself. It was an unbelievable moment. I felt like a pirate who had opened a door to find a massive room of treasure.

When I am asked what I enjoyed the most on this trip, however, I have to say it was my visit to the Borghese Gallery and especially standing in front of Titian’s masterpiece, Sacred and Profane Love. I had already been more than surprised to find myself admiring with wonder several statues by Bernini in the collection and had found Raphael’s Deposition to be as great as I’d hoped for. But I hadn’t known that the Borghese held the Titian and seeing it was like being hit in the head by a frying pan by Bugs Bunny in an old Warner Brothers cartoon. I was absolutely stunned.

The Borghese has several exhibition floors, but it isn’t the largest of museums so the caretakers limit how many visitors can be in the space at one time. My travelling party had arranged our tickets months in advance, so when there was a mix-up and we were temporarily told we could not enter, I had to threaten that America would sever ties with the Italian government if we did not gain access. In any case, the matter was resolved, the point being that the room with the Titian was not crowded at all so I could stare at it without obstruction literally from all over the gallery. The meaning of the painting has eluded scholars for years. It was painted in the early 1500s by the greatest of High Renaissance Venetian Masters. That said, all of art history vanishes when confronted by such a powerful work of art. Literally, one just takes it in timelessly. One locks in and is carried away by the weight of the forms and how they break the shackles of the picture plane to seem almost like a hologram. Sacred and Profane Love is just an unbelievable study in beauty and grace.

Days earlier, I had sat in an ancient amphitheater near the sea at Ostia. I had always wanted to sit in such an amphitheater where “they” had actually sat and watched theater two thousand years ago. I thought nothing could be better than that. Seeing the Titian, I realize now I was wrong!