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.

Steve - Campo dei Fiori

Campo dei Fiori is a hub of commerce, as the marketplace caters to the foodstuff needs of the locals. The movement within the site is largely pedestrian circulation, with little to no vehicular traffic. It is located directly south of Piazza Navona. The busy bus stop of Largo Argentina is located somewhat nearby, allowing access for a majority of the city. Along the outer boundaries of Campo dei Fiori, restaurants and their canopies sit with their tables forming a fairly clear boundary for public space. These boundaries create two distinct districts, one for the market in the center, and the restaurant district along the edge. The main pathway of the piazza runs directly through it where pedestrian traffic from the southwest where Piazza Farnese is located, and moves northeast leading more towards Piazza Navona. This central pathway sees a great deal of both pedestrian and vehicular traffic. The tourists generally use this pathway and interesting relationships are formed where this path collides with that of the marketplace, where the locals usually venture. Aside from the path directly through the piazza, there is a lot of pedestrian movement through the marketplace, which generally exists as a grid pattern.

The two major landmarks in Campo Dei Fiori are the statue of Bruno and the Terrina Fountain. Locals use these places as meeting places, as well as places to sit and people watch. These landmarks also act as nodes, as activity is usually drawn to them. The other nodes are the two drinking fountains in the piazza, where one could catch a drink, or the merchant use them to fill up buckets so they can water their fruits and vegetables. Most of the activity however exists along the pathways that are created in the marketplace, where people constantly run and bump into each other, or simply pass the time waiting for someone or something to happen.

PIAZZA SAN PIETRO_ FINAL ANALYSIS

If there is one thing that struck me upon coming to Rome, it was how much Romans INTERACT in their piazzas. The word INTERACT is capitalized for emphasis. Before coming to Rome, when I used the term “public interaction” while describing my architecture projects it was to describe a gray, listless world in which imagined crowds of faceless people came to

gether on chipboard models. There was a big open space, and people would fill that space, and the world would somehow be a better place because group A would meet group B.

I understood the public as an IT, not as groups of people, big and small, and individuals, who interacted or not, who each used the space differently, at different times, who came for different reasons, and who appreciated different things. The spaces I designed “generated human interaction”, or so I claimed. Since coming here I have learned that people do not go through this world yearning to meet new people in every public space they enter. Sure, it is great to meet new people, and providing humanity a space for this to occur is admirable, but what people really need are places to delight in being alive.

This delight comes from the program that occurs in a space. That may be a place to enjoy a beautiful view or an interesting event, a place to relax, a place to watch others, a place to eat, etc. To a certain extent, it is possible to design for these things, but by attempting to design these experiences we decrease the scope of opportunities that could occur in the space. By designing an amphitheater to capture a view we create a hierarchy which often directs people downward to the bottom of the geometry. But creating a flat piazza leaves a space non-hierarchical and deters crowds from being able to enjoy the same spectacle. The best answer is often somewhere in between the two possibilities.

Everyone’s opinion of what is delightful is different, so our goal should be to allow for as many delightful experiences as possible to occur in a space. Our job as designers is to create spaces which embrace the pragmatic needs of the human, of thermal, visual, audible, and tactile comfort, and allow the delightful experiences to occur and engage as freely as possible.

In the above paragraph I listed visual delight as one of the pragmatic needs of the human. And it is true that a space must be visually pleasing, but not at the expense of tactile, audible, and thermal comfort. A fountain is not something to just look at but provides a cooling breeze in the summer, and a pleasant audible backdrop, a set of steps provides seats to rest weary legs, and colonnades provide shade.

Piazza San Pietro makes use of these three elements decisively to create a space that is at once delightful and functional. Programmatically, Saint Peters is designed for a massive group of people to great god on the doorstep of heaven. Functionally, it is designed in order to accommodate the maximum number of people to hear the pope give his blessing. It is so successful because it humbly creates a space for delight to occur while maximizing human comfort and following a prescribed program.

I originally believed that a specific program would hurt a public space. That by defining a specific use the space would suddenly become unusable for other functions. But after coming to Rome I believe that specificity is absolutely indispensible to an active, exciting piazza. Out of specificity comes a sense of purpose. That purpose is the core of the space, and the other functions fill in around it, like fruit growing around a seed in order to protect it.

My current studio project shows strong influences from the things I have learned in Rome. It incorporates three different piazzas, each designed for a different program and user. There is a public piazza which drastically changes elevation and provides a number of places for tired shoppers of the Porta Portese market to rest, as well as a direct entrance to the cafeteria which serves Temple University’s new Rome campus. Its focus on the river draws the public out and promotes individual reflection rather than public interaction. The semi-public piazza acts as a place for educated individuals to enjoy the exhibits in the main building, as well as for students to move between the studios and classrooms. There is little hierarchy or directionality in order to allow for flexible patterns of movement and for groups and individuals to navigate the space even when it is full, and to interact or not depending on their mission. This piazza is designed to allow students and gallery viewers a place to decompress from their individual pursuits. The private piazza designed just for the students is completely flat, and designed for the students to lounge on in private. The space is non-hierarchical and focuses on the users rather than the surrounding or spaces within it.

The outdoor spaces were designed first, each with their own feel, user group, program, and design scheme. The architecture was then allowed to fill in around these spaces, framing and protecting them. For the first time I see public space as more than just an important part of designing, but in many ways the foundation of design, with architecture coming afterwards.

Final Assignment

When I first arrived in Rome I was struck by the initial awe of being in a foreign city, especially one as beautiful as Rome. Living in Trastevere became somewhat of a fantasy. Once the initial excitement had worn off, I realized that I was an outsider in a foreign city and I needed adapt. Navigation became a major concern, how streets are organized, how people travel throughout the city, and which ways were most comfortable for me.

I quickly realized that Rome is a city that is thousands of years old and was built in a time where the pedestrian ruled and the same thing holds true today. Living in Trastevere, I was able to witness Italians and foreigners alike walking through the small and narrow cobblestone street. Mostly everything one could need is within walking distance. Also, not only do locals walk nearly everywhere they also inhabit public outdoor space much more frequently than in familiar U.S. cities like Philadelphia.

The Italian piazza is a well known and frequently used space in every local town, village, city, and area. Rome is littered with these piazzas. In a predominantly pedestrian city Piazzas are prevalent, easily accessible, and shared by everyone. I had specifically taken an interest in one particular piazza in Rome, Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere. This piazza is located only a few hundred meters from my front door. I started to use this piazza during my everyday activities, just like the Romans. It would not be out of the ordinary to go to the piazza, sit at the base of its beautiful fountain and have lunch as the sun shined brightly down into the piazza. The liveliness of the piazza made it a great place to complete drawing assignments. More than once I was able to locate a nice spot, sit down, and draw the fountain within the piazza. The brilliant light and abundance of people also made it a great place to tackle photography assignments.

However, my most intimate experiences with the piazza came when rehearsing for the Temple Rome talent show. I was going to juggle in the show and had nowhere to practice. My room was too cluttered and small and the streets outside my apartment accommodated too much traffic. Piazza Santa Maria became a welcoming space in which I was free to practice my skills. All the while I would be watched and even approached by many of the people in the piazza who were interested in my juggling. Particular pair of young sisters sticks out in my mind. They stood very close to me and did not move for what seemed like about twenty minutes. Even though we did not speak the same language I was still able to kneel down and start to teach them some basic juggling skills as they giggled while their parents watched from the fountain. By the night of the show I had spent countless hours in the piazza and I was able to observe how people interacted with one another, how people interacted with me directly and indirectly, how people moved around in the site. I began to notice which people frequent the piazza. I even began to recognize stray dogs. I really began to understand how a space like a piazza works and its importance and it started to find its way in some of my design work in Rome.

I had discovered through my time juggling in Piazza Santa Maria that one great way to animate a space to design an accessible piazza at a pedestrian scale. In my first studio assignment I was asked to design a kindergarten. I immediately became concerned with not only creating a fun and safe place for children to go to school but also with allowing the space to be an asset to the community while school was not in session. My solution became to create piazzas using the building as a boundary and also designing piazza like spaces through roof access to the building via landscapes in the site. The final design that was presented to the jury was successful in creating public community spaces where interactions can happen and in having safe play areas for the children.

In the second assignment I was faced with the task of designing a new Temple Rome campus. One thing I had noticed about the current Temple Rome is that there are not many opportunities for students to interact with one another outside of an academic setting on campus. Allowing campus to become a place that is not always about learning in a classroom would allow the students to be more comfortable and also allow for more interaction with professors. In true Roman fashion I also decided to incorporate a type of piazza. I ultimately decided to plug the classroom program within the steep wall face overlooking the river while the spaces above, at street level, became about interaction and student life. These spaces became composed of different types of piazzas, each one contributing something different. One type is green space, another type is for large group gatherings, and a final type caters smaller, more intimate groups of students and or professors with seating which creates tiny individual piazzas.

During my time here in Rome I have become more and more interested in the idea of how to design spaces in which people will naturally feel inclined to interact with one another. The Roman style piazza has become a clear inspiration to me and is clearly successful. I have been trying to design different ways of incorporating spaces like these into my designs. This inspiration is something I am sure will follow me in my future and I look forward to discovering new and unique ways to achieve to goals of the Roman piazza.

Delight in Piazza Santa Maria

Delight is a term defined differently by many people. However, when evaluating delight many people are faced with the same criteria. Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere may feel different to many people but to me it is a place of great comfort as it has become a common place in my life in Rome.

The piazza’s proximity to local attractions and buys roads is very small; this makes for high traffic flow in the area. There are people in the piazza at nearly any time of day. Having a constant population of people is very comforting because we crave interaction as humans. Also, where there are many people the chances of serious crimes being committed diminish.

There is repetition present in the piazza; however, it is mostly programmatic. There are many coffee bars and restaurants in and around the piazza. The establishments rest in the confines of the surrounding buildings enclosing the piazza. The organization of the outdoor seating becomes repetitive and fills the piazza with buzzing voices of friends coming together.

In the center of the piazza is its famous fountain. The fountain is essentially the largest figure in that it is the central focus to the piazza. As the central focus it is also one of the simplest elements in the piazza. There are fountains all over Rome and most are very similar. There is something simple and attractive to people about a fountain. It has seating surrounding the entire circumference and is magnetic to people looking to sit and enjoy a beautiful day.

The figure ground relationship in the piazza is rather simple. There are five arteries leading into the piazza with the fountain occupying the very center. The church, Santa Maria, is open to the public at nearly any time of day and traffic is easily able to move in and out of the church and through the piazza.

Proportionally there is nothing in the piazza that is overly large or intrusive. The only thing that could be considered slightly dominating is the tower that is part of the church. It looks over the whole piazza and stands alone.

All of the buildings in the piazza are at a similar scale and are meant to be engaged at a pedestrian level. Any point of the piazza is easily accessible for pedestrians.

The rhythm of the site is dictated mostly by the pedestrian traffic in the piazza. People move straight through the site, sit and enjoy the day, take photos, or entertain others. However, the rhythm is visibly disrupted when vehicles are forced to move through the space. The piazza is primarily meant for pedestrian traffic but there are some vehicles that must move through in order to make deliveries, drop off passengers, or deal with emergencies. When these vehicles move through the piazza people must be aware, stop moving, or move faster in order to accommodate the dominating vehicles in the narrow streets around the piazza.

Piazza Santa Maria, as well as much of Rome, has a unique texture in its cobble stone street. The streets are hundreds of years old and the surfaces are uneven. This texture is also perceived at different scales. One can feel them while walking, or experience the bumpy ride in a taxi.

The piazza is full of warm colored buildings. These buildings are sitting on the cool colored cobble stone streets as well as next to the cold feeling of the stone fountain and church. The light in the piazza operates in the same way. At different times of day there are brightly lit, warm spots in the piazza while others are cold and shaded.

The Piazza is ornamented via the fountain and the abundance of statues on and in the church. The statues are at such a scale that they can be read in any point in the piazza. At a distance they are strong figures and up close it is easy to see the remarkable detail in each of them. The fountain operates in much the same way. The sculptures on the fountain are not as large as the statues on the church; however they are at eye level and are close enough to be touched and can also be read from across the piazza.

Church of the Gesu Reflection

Julie Hagopian
14 April 2011
Engaging Places
Bridgette Knowles

When in Rome, Stay as the Romans Do

The first time I came to Rome two years ago, I remember paying fifteen Euros to see the Sistine Chapel, fighting the crowds of tourists at the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain, and I had my picture taken with one of those fake gladiators outside the Colosseum. And yet, even after seeing all of these ancient wonders, I still felt that Rome had somehow escaped me. To me, it was one of the most beautiful and wonderful places in the world, but it was elusive. I was the typical tourist and nothing more; I was there for a moment, and then I was gone. And I had this feeling that I would never truly experience the Eternal City the way Romans do. However, that all changed after my semester of studying abroad in Rome.
I enjoy traveling, and I enjoy seeing all of the main attractions that every city around the world has to offer. Nevertheless, there is always a stronger feeling of accomplishment or sensation of assimilation when one finds a “secret” place of delight in whatever city they are exploring. When I say secret place, I am simply referring to a public place that is in no way hidden or private, but rather is a place of delight that is overlooked by the average tourist. These places are everywhere in Rome and they come in all shapes and sizes; a local bar lost in the crowds of Trastevere that has (in my opinion) the best cappuccino around, a typical restaurant that sells whole pizza’s twice the size of my head for only five euros, or a small church in Palazzo Altieri that has the most beautiful and intricate interior. This church in particular, the Church of the Gesu, was what I chose for my Delight in Architecture subject because it is what I believe to be one of Rome’s hidden gems that someone got lost in the appeal of all of Rome’s major attractions.
The Church of the Gesu, located in Palazzo Altieri between the Pantheon and Piazza Venezia, is one of the most delightful places I have been in Rome. From the very first moment one enters the Church, they are greeted with its simplest and largest figure: the mirror. This long and rectangular mirror is angled on a low angle and reflect the entire canvas of the ceiling so that the viewer is able to see the whole painting. It allows the viewer to interact with the large ceiling in a much more personal way and exploit’s the beautiful intricacies of the paintings. Despite the few people waiting in line to view this mirror, the Church is barely crowded until 5:30 pm: when the light show begins. The light show consisted of a man telling a story in Italian, and as he spoke different sculptures and painting would light us. Then at the end of the story, the picture on the left alter slides down to reveal a hidden gold sculpture behind it. After that, the whole church lit up so that all the beautiful murals, paintings, and sculptures were in full view.
For whatever reason, this Church found a special place in my heart from the very first time I stepped inside of it. It was such a nice retreat from all the hustle and bustle and noise of everyday life in a city, and I found myself some days just sitting in there for hours on end contemplating whatever was on my mind. And every time I went, I would light a candle for all my friends and family at home that I missed; my time spent in this church was time that I spent thinking about all the things I was grateful for, and all the things I was regretful for. It gave me my very own retreat in the heart of Rome, and I think it would be a great place to experience for all those who are visiting Rome for only a few days. I find it ironic how such a small Church like this had the greatest impact on me than any other piece of art, architecture, or landscape in Rome, and I would love to share its impact with everyone around me. But then again, I would also be a bit saddened if this Church became a major tourist attraction, and there were lines and crowds of people pushing through its wooden doors. So I think it best if I just share this church with a few of my close friends, and leave it here in Rome as I found it: my little secret.
And rather than little, my semester studying in Rome has actually helped me to think big and look at architecture on a bigger scale. All of the projects we have done in studio at Temple University in Philadelphia have all been rather small infill projects, with the exception of one urban scale project. However, with the two studio projects that I have completed in Rome, I feel like I have finally grasped the concept of site and how to make my architecture site specific. I have started using the natural landscape more often than usual, and I find that this method can also be used to find simple solutions to complicated problems. And I find that I enjoy using the landscape as a main design tool because it helps me better understand my projects as urban scale projects and makes me aware of how my architecture will affect its surroundings. I am very excited to now take all these new things I have learned and hopefully apply them to my next and final studio semester.