Final

To be honest, before I came to Rome I thought that spending an entire semester here could end up being a big waste of time. At the end of my three and a half months here, however, I’ve been proven pleasantly wrong.

I thought that it would be adequate to maybe do a 2-week summer program here and hit all the famous spots. It could be sort of like a vacation. But once I had been here for a week I realized that there’s no way I could have learned even a fraction of what I did about Rome and the architecture here. I’ve spent an entire semester living, thinking, and breathing this city. If you come here as a tourist, you’re just a part of the background—like a big museum, you just wander around the city pointing at things and thinking “isn’t that nice.” Living here was the exact opposite. I got a chance to experience the city, to see the way the people that designed it wanted it to be seen.

One of the most important aspects I’ve noted about the architecture here—and one that has influenced the work I’ve done in studio—is the layering of the old and the new. I came here with a very strong emphasis on the modern in my work, but seeing the way centuries-old buildings and landmarks just bleed into modern buildings, theaters, residences, etc. I applied that to my work in the studio by designing a building that absorbed a 1300-year old wall without disrupting the wall’s structure. I allowed the wall to become part of the façade of my building.

There are also some places in the city where this layering effect does not work as well, such as Piazzale degli Eroi, that were just as helpful in designing my spaces. I noticed right away that the piazza was terribly structured for pedestrian travel or really any pedestrian activity. It has a fountain but virtually no way to get there. This type of blockage in the flow of the city’s architecture really stands out in a city like Rome that is famous for its piazzas as gathering places for the city’s population. However, the piazza is a good example of a connecting point within the city for drivers and public transport. It links several very important parts of Rome via the Metro and bus systems and is in very close proximity to the Vatican.

I chose to study Piazzale degli Eroi because it was in such close proximity to the residence, but during my time here I got to see many of the other major piazzas of the city. I think a place like Piazza del Popolo is a better example of where the layering of antiquity and modern is successful. Piazzale degli Eroi is a very utilitarian, contemporary type of piazza—it’s only there to serve the purpose of directing and redirecting traffic flow and has no pretenses of being a popular hang-out spot. Piazza del Popolo, on the other hand, has a gigantic area for people to gather, while still effectively redirecting traffic as well as linking pedestrian traffic between Via del Corso and Villa Borghese.

Furthermore, while the piazza itself has a very antique feel and appearance (such as the Ancient Egyptian obelisk at the center of the square), the buildings in the surrounding area—the “Triton” that goes to the city’s center—are a seamless patchwork of buildings from all different eras and epochs. You can buy a watch or a bottle of perfume from a designer store with a brightly-colored sheer metal display in the window, and then cross the street to a church from the 1500s. You can have an espresso in the Galleria and then walk outside and take a picture of the famous Colonna with its intricate carvings. It may feel surreal to be engaging such vast and frequent jumps in time periods, but the architecture in this city has such a linear, temporal appearance to it that it almost rationalizes itself in your head. You can see where little changes in style came along in the differences in molding or the angles used in the facades of the building or the size and scale of the structure, and the sum of these small changes lends reason to their coexistence.

I should say, though, that there are places in the city where this layering is almost non-existent, and in some areas this works. In the walk between my residence and the barbershop, I pass very few buildings that predate the 20^th century. Prati is a wealthy, residential area, and many of the buildings are apartment complexes, small businesses, grocery stores, and the like. However, because there is none of the awe of antiquity (and that sort of weird voyeuristic pleasure of just passing a building thats 700 years old on the street while you’re eating a kebab), I noticed that I engaged the area in a completely different way than the center for example. The people here were the ones I had to interact with on a daily basis. I had to practice my Italian in these stores when I wanted to buy detergent or milk, I had to listen to my barber rant at me for twenty minutes or so while he trimmed my hair. At the end of the semester, I noticed that somehow, after 3.5 months of interacting with these spaces and people, I could finally understand a lot of what this guy was saying to me. That feeling of closeness and comfort in a space was definitely something I tried to apply to my work in the studio.

For my kindergarten project though, I was forced to face the challenge of layering the antique and modern. I was working on a school that had a direct view of the Colosseum. The building I came up with had a very contemporary appearance, but the biggest challenge of the project was making sure the vistas face the Colosseum. It felt it very important to make sure that the kids in my school would be aware of the structure without being distracted by it. I wanted them to engage the structure as an extension of my new building.

Now that’s how you engage a space.

Piazza San Pietro -- Final Analysis and Reflection

Details in the Reflection

In the closed square at night sounds and discernible forms appear in the darkness. Walking around the square to reach Piazza Risorgimento, I am alone on the street—even the fence at the edge, usually still populated at the late hour, is empty. I can hear the rushing water from the fountains in the distance and the low murmur from the Carbinieri nearby. A cluster of red lights in a shadowy corner contains the burning paper of lit cigarettes and the glare of brake lights from police cars.

Couples lean against the gate, holding hands. They hold out a camera at arm’s length to capture the moment, the space, and a kiss. Quiet, subtle moments like this encapsulate the way Rome can affect you.

When walking along the outside edge, the four rows of columns appear like trees scattered across a forest floor. Light spills across the ringed trunks—marble as old as ancient trees. Their age displays the patina on the surface and the weight that they hold. They hold the weight of a divided world and a divergent Catholic following. The old faces of the saints stare down at a new, diverse crowd and listen to the arguments existing for centuries as new conflicts arise.

Final Analysis

Living close to Piazza San Pietro has had an odd effect on me. I walk through the space between two and four times a day. Its power and prominence have been numbed, its captivating hold—no longer strong. However, details now stand out blaringly. The human element has become far more interesting. The ability to see and understand how people observe and revere the space was something I did not expect.

After completing an overview of the basilica and piazza’s history and many layers of design intention, I have begun to further appreciate the precision required to master such a construction. Not one, but many designers have contributed to what St. Peter’s stands as today. A concept present throughtout its history is that one can build from another. That we can work together to create greatness.

St. Peter’s offers us an interesting concept; that such different shapes, like a rectangle, an ellipse, and a pyramid, can come together to form one unique shape…one unique idea. That the differences between us can frame something better. If hard angles can be smoothed by gentle curves and the sound of running water can be featured in a sea of cobblestones, we can combine what we think cannot work as one into a greater force.

The idea that even for a brief time, parts can become a whole, differences can be overlooked, and that an object can be built of such beauty, such spiritual elegance that it can garner peace, understanding, and a communal space to appreciate what humankind can create.

Piazza San Pietro -- Kevin Lynch Analysis

Piazza San Pietro--Main Elements

a. Pathways:

Travel Groups come from three primary locations outside of the square. From the West, where tour buses parked on Via della Conciliazione, from the South, where groups arrive at the local train station, and from the North, where they arrive via public transit into Piazza Risorgimento. The Northern group also consists of a large group migrating from the Vatican Museums entrance, beating a path many have taken to re-enter the piazza after experiencing the Sistine Chapel. On most days (especially weekends), this path between the two tourist meccas is fraught with sidewalk peril. If there is not a line dominating the space, multiple tour buses are often blocking access with their disoriented, camera-laden users emptying out onto the street.
So, this creates multiple streams of people entering the piazza. Between the two security entrances in the North/South colonnades and through the two small gates along the Eastern edge.
There are also defined paths of movement from groups already contained in the piazza and basilica. These are the groups exiting the building from the Southern exit and the people in line on the Northern side, slowly moving into the basilica.

Piazza San Pietro--Pathways

b. Districts:
Districting the piazza into discernible parts is a difficult task. By fracturing it into pieces, you lose the ability to see it as a whole. However, by compartmentalizing, we can begin to see why these areas contribute to a greater purpose.

Districts relating to Architecture/Infrastructure
Inner Ring- Many groups sit here to enjoy the piazza. The Southern side is always in shade, but is not used as much as the Northern side—bathed in sunlight. People-watching is the most common past-time I have observed.
Colonnade- Home to security gates checking visitors entering the Basilica. Though most of it is closed to visitors or under construction, the parts that have remained open are part of the most tranquil district during the day. The columns provide a cooling shade and block much of the noise and movement happening feet away in the Inner Ring.
Outer Ring- Immediately outside of the colonnade where pedestrians travel to enter/exit the rim of the piazza.
Boulevards-Via di Porta Angelica, Via della Conciliazione, and Via delle Fornaci are the streets leading to the piazza. They provide access to pedestrian and vehicular (most notably taxis and motorbuses) traffic bound for St. Peter’s.
Obelisk Circle–Home to relaxing visitors and the meeting point for travel groups dispersing audioguides. Also, the surrounding area is home to the Christmas Nativity scene and Palm Sunday decorations. (I’ve now witnessed both, which take away from the obelisk greatly.)
Basilica Staircase- This district is kept fenced for security reasons, and is used only as part of Papal masses.

Districts Relating to People
Entrance/Exit Lines –Shifting mass of people slowly moving through the security checkpoint in the Northern colonnade. The end of the line often reaches the Eastern edge of the piazza. This is also present in the small groups trickling out of the exit on the Southern side of the front façade.

Meeting Point—Immediately past the Eastern edge and through the two small, open gates in the fence, lies a district concerned with gathering tour groups and small parties together to join the security line.
Photography Point—This district consists of photographers capturing the front façade. Many use the small pillars to balance cameras for focus.


c. Edges:
The colonnades create a defining, symmetric hold of the piazza. Even from a bird’s eye view, the colonnade apperas as the arms of the Vatican extending out to greet its followers. Though, the perspective from eye level discerns physical objects as the main means of defining an edge.
Eastern Edge- Marked by the metal fence lining the outside ring of the piazza.
Northern/Southern Edges- Marked by the two colonnades and multiple entablatures.
Western Edge- Marked by the security fence, the trapezoidal staircase, and the front façade. The massive front façade often seems like the primary edge, since many do not notice the security fencing until they move closer.

d. Landmarks:
Front Façade
Trapezoidal Staircase
Dome (only visible from certain perspectives)
Basilica Entrance (North side) and Exit (South side)
Colonnade (x2)
Featuring thick symmetrical columns (x256) and statues of saints (x192) on the
colonnade roofing.
Colonnade Entablature Sections (x6)
Fountains (x2)
Obelisk, encompassing circle, and interior fencing
Composed of large rectangular base steps (x3 levels), short pillars in a
square connecting the fence (x16), and Lampposts (x4)

Temporary/Moving/Varying Day-to-Day
Tourist groups, security fencing, large-screen monitors to display events, and
stage for Papal masses.

e. Nodes:

The obelisk features as the main meeting point for tourist and small groups. This is easily the most recognizable, accessible node in the square, but is a bad choice for using as a meeting point. Leaving much to interpretation, this node is far too busy and can distract many trying to use it for orientation. When interacting with the object, groups will either step over the low metal barrier to sit directly next to the obelisk or otherwise mill near the circling stone pillars.
The two fountains are consistently accessed nodes as well. Though, these usually function as photograph opportunities rather than meeting points. Since cascading water catches in the wind and sprays unsuspecting victims standing near the fountains, the node can stretch out in a concentric circle around each to encompass the wary photographers.

To speak obviously, Rome is an ancient city. But the naiveté of such a statement would undermine the rich texture that Rome, among its other counterpart cities in Europe, contains from its lengthy and epic history. It remains a modern city born out of emperors, gods, and peasants. A testament to people both contemporary, and older than time itself. Rome amongst many places is not only a city holding the lives and experiences that transcends thousands of years, but is also a place invariably dripping in meaning.

We as Architects, as builders, as decedents from the longest line of master-craftsmen, can only fathom the skill, work, and time of those who came before us. To imagine that these things that merely the city of Rome contains (Saint Peter’s or The Pantheon) puts into perspective what we as human beings are truly capable of. Because in its definitiveness, Rome is a place designed by great architects, and built by human hands.

We respect that Architecture is a human conception, and that is nuances come from the minds and traditions of people. And we understand that the symbols, which adorn these churches, are in their repetition not for ornament alone, but to communicate specific meaning that their creators had intended. It is understandable that these ‘classical’ motifs have fallen to the wayside of a formal game, and that we, in our most contemporary context, have mostly forgotten their meaning, or their relevance within Architecture as a whole. It prompts us to ask how we understand that work that has preceded us, and what our own work will mean in the future, or how we will be understood in the future context of what we cannot foresee.

But if we as students, or as people, beg the question as to how this all effects who we are, how we design, or how any of this is relevant to our lives, we will inevitably arrive at a myriad of answers- all true, false, and deceiving. In this day in age, so much of what we once knew- the Albertian model of Architecture, Vitruvian practice, or the many modern manifestoes of Terragni, Sant’Elia, or even Superstudio,- have made us question our systems of belief. What was definitive is now an odd shade of gray.

Today, our practice as architects has grown to accept that these things once existed, and have lingered, and that it is somehow our duty to respect all of it, while trying to insert our own modern and sometimes irrelevant agendas. In the construction of a kindergarten, an assignment that places us directly into the context of the city-center, we were driven to consider Rome as a palimpsestic entity, and place into its folds a thing for children, who both understand and irregrettably forget the history of the city in which they live. To accomplish this, we take into consideration the archeological dig, the finding of things ancient, and the constant remnants of the past and how they effect our future- that the kindergarten is a palimpsest of developing language, and that the building of anything in Rome most inevitably discovers the ancient city buried underground.

In doing so, the kindergarten adapts itself to and ancient road that once traversed its site- found through an analysis of a Lanciani map (which overlays the modern, ancient and contemporary cities of Rome) and allows this found road to become accepted as a new public place, and reestablishes the ancient street as a place of commerce, meeting, and intellectual trade. The kindergarten makes use of the wall, the paramount architectural feature of the city, to construct a public space within the city, and to separate the spaces of the kindergarteners, as well as bring to light that the wall can become an inhabitable thing, and an element that can exist both horizontally and vertically in order to make spaces (both interior and exterior)

And to all its effects, the kindergarten may accomplish what it has set out to do, but the practice o speculation comes not without an understanding of how these public and private spaces come to be, and why we inhabit them. In some new modern context, the notion of what spaces mean to us is becoming thoroughly less symbolic, and more focused on the feeling of space, and those elements that make it worthwhile, delightful, or enjoyable. Rome contains as few of these shared spaces, among which, Piazza di Spagna is a favorite to appeal to the many notions of meaning, history, and well-executed Architectural practice.

The piazza is a place that brings together these different understandings of how all that we know in the world, and what makes a place or a thing enjoyable for us, is sometimes simply its delight. The Spanish Steps, although a hallmark of the Roman Renaissance, remain today a particularly relevant element in the city. But it is not necessarily something that is designed, something meaningful, or significantly historic in this case, since the steps embody all of those things. Instead, in all of our symbolic searches, the Spanish steps help us to find meaning elsewhere: in our familiarity.

Ourselves as human beings have found new territory in the modern context of Architecture by identifying in our globalized society things that transcend cultural differences and bring us closer to a feeling of home. Oddly enough, the stair is certainly an element that most of the world understands; what it is like to walk, to sit, and to enjoy one’s environment on a set of stairs. The Spanish Steps of Piazza di Spagna are certainly this example of familiarity. They are not any less or more authentic than a stair in and of itself, but offer to many man’s primal tendency to sit on the hill and look out on his surroundings.

We as architects, builders, and makers of things, can understand our lives in the context of all the meanings that we have set forth before us. But in an increasingly globalized world, it is more difficult to communicate these symbolic meanings. We therefore have to understand our elemental nature as people, and our most basic feelings of space whenever we experience something new. It is not something less authentic per se, but the idea that a city such as Rome, and the people who make that city what it is, can find their own relevance, and be able to communicate their own meanings to the world.

Kyle Mayath- Experiences in Rome

Rome provided a very influential experience, both for my development as an architecture student and as a person in general. Just being around structures that were built hundreds of years ago changes a person. Europe was thriving for hundreds of years before the United States began to develop as an urban settlement. Upon arrival in Rome I was taken by the sights. The city has such diversity. You can walk down the street and see a building build in the early 90’s and right next to it is a building commissioned by an emperor in the second century A.D. or even walking through the ruins of the market and forum. It’s an overpowering experience to navigate pathways that were traveled by Romans hundreds of years before.

I would have to say that the thing that I found most interesting was the adaptive reuse of old buildings. In the US, we are so quick to knock down a building because we want to build something more modern and technologically advanced. The average life of a structure is thirty years. This is an obvious effect of huge strides in technology and the fact that buildings are not constructed with lasting processes and materials. One thing that I will take from my experience in Rome is the Roman peoples ability to reuse a structure. I visited an apartment building in Trastevere and it had clearly once been a large family dwelling. The pathway to my friend’s apartment went up a few stairs, down a hall, then down stairs and around a corner. The layout was not that of an apartment complex, but a dwelling that was sectioned off and converted into individual apartments. I can assume that almost every apartment in the building was different. To create an interesting space like this from scratch would be somewhat difficult. The richness in this building would be extremely difficult to replicate. This richness is something that I believe can only be created through layers of history and tradition.

So this leads me to ask myself the question, “What is my stance on architecture?” Will I become an architect who knocks down the old to make way for the new, or will I take the old and tweak it to add one more layer of history? For a while I have been interested in the idea of historical preservation, maybe just as starting point to further understand the work of those that came before me. My semester abroad in Roma has solidified this question for me. In my opinion, there is no better decision than to preserve what we have and make it useful for the future. Our Rome studio project asked us to take a site that was once used for shipbuilding and convert it into a new campus for Temple Roma. Rather than knocking down the arsenal, as well as other structures on the site, I chose to restore and rework the new program into them. I didn’t feel knocking them down or simply restoring them to their original fit and finish was the proper approach. The direction I took on this project was defiantly inspired by my experiences here in Roma. The architecture that I have been exposed to here has helped to develop my stance on design.

The other aspect of Roma which I enjoy is the natural spaces, parks, and villas that exist within the urban fabric; specifically my special place, the Villa Doria Pamphilj. It is very calm and peaceful there. The roads that surround it are muffled by the vegetation to the point that the city becomes nonexistent. You begin to forget that you are in a city at all, that is until you emerge into a vast open space and can see the skyline off in the distance. This is one of the natural spaces in particular that I found amazing. There are other places like this all over the city. It creates a nice rhythm within Rome’s urban fabric. These spaces, once estates of wealthy romans are now places for everyone to enjoy. There is again an element of reuse and layers of history.

In contrast, Philadelphia currently really only has one major park space near its urban center. Rome on the other hand, has many public green spaces throughout. This gives that city, in my opinion, a breathability that Philadelphia lacks. I understand that comparing Rome to Philadelphia is a stretch; however a very important difference needs to be pointed out. Rome lacks the abundance of abandoned and empty lots that Philadelphia has. Imagine if north Philadelphia was condensed, all the space consisting on unused lots and decomposing structures were grouped together and made into public green spaces. One can imagine that it could begin to breathe new life into the city. It would develop the rhythm similar to that of Rome’s.

My experiences in Rome have been helpful to my development. The history and tradition in this place is something that I have never experienced before. To finally get to see the ancient structures that I only had seen pictures of before was inspiring. There is so much here to experience and learn from it is overwhelming. However, the things that I did learn will stick with me forever. The constructs of those who came before us need to be respected. There was a level of craft to which they worked by that has been forgotten. To simply throw away the last few remnants of this is a crime. It is obvious that an exact replication of their processes is not the answer to today’s issues. However we can take what they have left us and add a new layer to it. We can build upon their foundations to create a better solution.

Steve Campo dei Fiori Final

Finding a niche is difficult enough, let alone trying to do so in a new country with a new language, new customs and new set of cultural rules and expectations to follow. My experience in Rome would be best described as my own personal struggle to blend in, with varying success. I feel that Campo dei Fiori has helped me come to realize my experience in Rome, coming in as an outsider who blends while maintaining his own personal identity, similar to the statue of Bruno in the center of the piazza. An area under constant transformation, while still keeping itself grounded in its surroundings.

While on the eastern side of the Tiber I often find myself drawn to the Old Rome district. Traversing through the winding streets, thin strings always anchoring to a nearby piazza. Meandering through this spaces, and taking a new route every so often has peaked my interest. It is an entirely different experience than the conventional grid of Northern American cities, and an experience I have found myself to rather enjoy. Instead of simply walking from one point to another, it is more of an adventure that takes place between the start and end of your journey. An adventure that can’t be repeated, striking an odd correlation with the study abroad experience in Rome itself.

I have an odd relationship with Campo dei fiori as my place in Rome. During the day, when market stalls and merchants set up their shops to peddle their goods for the day, the atmosphere is totally Roman. Those who are in the know can find amazing deals on meat and produce, as well as beverages and kitchen tools. Once the sun starts going down though, when the tents come down and the restaurants start lighting their portable heaters it is an entirely different atmosphere. The Romans of the day are replaced by the tourists of the night. The places where one would look for food during the day become the places where one looks for a cheap drink at night. All the while Bruno stands in the center of the piazza, silently watching this transformation. Although I much prefer the daytime identity of Campo dei Fiori, I think the transformation is interesting nonetheless. This transformation regularly happens every day at the same time, it isn’t based on some rare event occurring. I think this element of having a central body around an element of transition has rag true in both studio projects this semester. In both the building was the anchoring element, where the paths designed to traverse the site are the transitional element. In the kindergarten assignment I looked more towards the inherent boundaries in the site and how permeable they were. This also influenced the movement throughout the building, with some areas being easier than others to reach or leave from. In the campus project this element of transition was the means to access the riverfront from the street. There was also a play between the transitions from the old Arsenal building into the new addition of the campus building. A state of transformation as it was, between the old building practices of the 1700s and modern construction techniques. This dichotomy of the old and new also exists in Campo dei Fiori, in that the older elements (the Terrina Fountain, statue of Bruno, etc) mesh fairly well with the modern additions of the marketplace and restaurants.

The other aspect of Campo dei Fiori that I found to be interesting was that a space like that doesn’t really exist in Philadelphia. A space that acts not only as a market, but a restaurateur’s destination, a meet-up spot and home to an important landmark. All within the confines of one square block, densely woven into the urban fabric. My excursions in Philadelphia have found such places, but not one that encompasses all of these elements and in such a way that they fluidly mesh with one another. It is of note that because of all of these programs exists so close together, the people that inhabit the space interact very close together. The element of personal space doesn’t really exist in Campo dei Fiori, with the pedestrians passing the merchants and shoppers close enough as if to touch them. I rather enjoyed the fact that one central area could contain so much in terms of program, yet still read cohesively as its own space. I had attempted creating this in both studio projects as well, by creating a centralized location that held many different activities. This aspect really rang true with me, and I hope to keep it as a tool to use in future design issues.

Campo dei Fiori has been a place that I come to relax, to think, and to interact with the locals. By spending a sizeable amount of time there this semester I think that if I ever do have the chance to come back to Rome, seamlessly fitting back into the culture of Campo dei Fiori would not be too difficult. The statue of Bruno would be there to greet me, the restaurants would be open and welcoming me inside for a nice dinner underneath the familiar beige canopies. The merchants would still have their shops, spraying their fruits and vegetables to keep them from drying out, peddling sunglasses and watches among other knickknacks that one may need as an impulse buy. As my first trip draws to a close I find myself already looking forward to the next one.

Campo dei Fiori Delight

Campo de fiori

Proximity: In an urban context, Campo de Fiori is close to Piazza Navona, Piazza Farnese and the major bus stop at Largo Argentina. In the context of the site, restaurants are adjacent to merchant stalls, with buyers and sellers in very close proximity to each other. Personal space is very small in this piazza.

Repetition: The piazza was designed to be symmetrical, shaped like a rectangle with the statue of Bruno sitting in the center. Tables and canopies of the restaurants that surround the piazza clearly define the hard edge that exists at the border of public and private space.

Simplest and Largest Figures: The largest figures attempt to establish verticality to the piazza. The statue of Bruno directs the gaze upwards, while during the day the tents and canopies of the merchants establish a leveled hierarchy in the piazza. The Terrina fountain is a fairly simple piece, consisting of two bowls that collect water. It is fairly plain and was once used to distribute water to livestock, hence its utilitarian features.

Figure/Ground Relationship: The objects within Campo de Fiori relate fairly well to its surrounding, as the surrounding buildings aren’t very tall. The statue of Bruno and the Terrina fountain are objects that are closer to human scale, rather than larger insertions that can be seen from afar. These two objects complement each other fairly well, and from up close they mesh well with one another. Both direct the viewers gaze upwards and break up the monotony of the rooftops that surround the piazza.

Proportion: The urban landscape fits well into a human scale while retaining a small manageable space in the piazza. The close quarters are created through the 3 story buildings, the merchant stalls and the narrowness of the piazza itself. It is very easy to traverse both physically and through sight.

Scale/Rhythm: The scale of the piazza seems to fit well into the greater urban context of Rome. Although not quite as large as piazza Navona to the north, Campo dei Fiori’s size fits in well with its use as an open air market every day. The close relationship between the buyer and the seller is replicated by the close quarters of the piazza. Onlookers and shoppers form a rhythm that is consistent throughout the day, and is the most pleasing part of the piazza. The people who sit outside the flanking restaurants provide a nice counterbalance to the movement of people through the piazza

Texture: The textures in Campo de fiori consist of Stucco, cobblestones, and brick. These are textures used throughout Rome and fit in the piazza quite nicely. The square seamlessly fills a niche in that section of the city.

Light and Color: The piazza usually sports a warmer hue of yellow and orange, due to the color of the surrounding buildings and canopies and tents that are set up there. At night the lights illuminate the piazza, the yellow glow from the tungsten lamps accentuates what would be normal during the day.

Ornament: Other than the statue of Bruno, the Terrina fountain and the public drinking fountains, the piazza is mostly devoid of ornament. Ornament is created through the goods that the local merchants sell during the day, and the lights that come on when the sun goes down and people gather in the piazza.