Postcard from Sevilla, Spain: The house that made Mudejar-Renaissance mashups fashionable

When the governor of Andalusia, Pedro Enriguez de Quinones (1435-1492) began construction of his palace, most of the building expertise in the neighborhood was provided by Mudejar craftsmen.

A two-year grand tour of the Holy Land and Italy by his son, Fadrique Enríquez de Rivera (1476 – 1539), brought Renaissance influences into the home but not at the expense of Mudejar architectural details and azulejos. More than 100 different tile designs from the 1530s by the Pulido brothers color the interiors and its multiple courtyards. The first marques of Tarifa, Fadrique set a trend for mixing these styles among the wealthy in Sevilla, and that influence is reflected in a multitude of house museums now open to the public.

In 1521, Fadrique also established the Semana Santa tradition of a Lenten procession he was exposed to in Jerusalem, the Holy Way of the Cross. The route of La Via Crucis began in his chapel and proceeded 1,321 paces to a pillar just outside the city walls. The number represents the purported number of steps Jesus tread from the House of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem to the crucifixion awaiting him. Possibly this association is what led Sevillanos to refer to the home as the Casa de Pilatos.

Casa de Pilatos was made a national monument in 1931, but it remains the residence of the family of the Duke of Medinaceli, who retain portions as their private quarters.

I feel guilty including the portrait of “The Bearded Woman” by the famous Joseph de la Ribera, except it does jump off the wall at you. Instead of trying to explain the painting or my inclusion of it, I offer a translation of Ribera’s inscription on it. This is provided by WTF Art History (great blog title):

Look, a great miracle of nature. Magdalena Ventura from the town of Accumulus in Samnium, in the vulgar tongue Abruzzo in the Kingdom of Naples, aged 52 and what is unusual is when she was in her 37th year she began to go through puberty and thus a full growth of beard appeared such that it seems rather that of a bearded gentleman than a woman who had previously lost three sons whom she had borne to her husband, Felici de Amici, whom you see next to her. Joseph de Ribera, a Spaniard, marked by the cross of Christ, a second Apelles of his own time, by order of Duke Ferdinand II of Alcalá, Viceroy at Naples, depicted in a marvelously lifelike way. 17th February 1631.

Postcard from Rome, Italy: Putting that saintly fashion foot forward

Away from San Antonio during Fiesta… when duchesses were bowing, weighed down by their glittering trains and flashing their fancy footwear, sometimes chanclas, from atop flowery floats… we encountered a rich array of elegant gowns in a fashion show in an unanticipated setting.

Chapels lining one side aisle of the Basilica of Santa Maria in Aracoeli hosted mannequins wearing some of the Virgin Mary’s most formal attire. Numerous outfits were complete with compatible cloaks and shoes and, of course, matching attire for Baby Jesus.

The basilica’s own Baby Jesus, Santo Bambino of Aracoeli, needed no additional clothes. Carved from olive wood from the Gethsemane Garden in Jerusalem, Santo Bambino always is cloaked in a much-bejeweled golden garment.

The original statue created by a Franciscan dated from the 15th century and was credited for numerous miraculous healings. At one point, Santo Bambino was carted around on house-calls to aid those too ill to visit personally.

An icon of such value attracts much interest. The French hijacked it in 1797, but it was later recovered. Thieves robbed the baby of numerous jewels in 1838, but the worst theft occurred in 1994. Santo Bambino vanished. Even thieves in prison penned public letters requesting their fellow tradesmen return the beloved Santo Bambino. Fresh olive wood was obtained from Jerusalem for the replacement now on display.

The original Santo Bambino might be missing, but, for the faithful, his powerful spirit remains with the reproduction in the basilica. Letters from around the world arrive addressed to Santo Bambino requesting mail-order miracles and are placed beside him to “read” at will. As newer ones arrive, the older requests are burned with incense.

As for the setting itself? No San Antonio ballroom can compare with the shimmering chandeliers and ornate décor found in the basilica.

Somewhere at the foundation of the enormous Basilica of Santa Maria of Aracoeli lies a Byzantine church dating from the 500s. The papacy took over the property in the 9th century, placing it under the control of Benedictines. Immense columns supporting the central nave were harvested from ancient Roman ruins. Franciscans provided much Romanesque and Gothic remodeling and expansion in the 1200s. Heavy gilding of the ceiling was completed in 1575 to thank the Virgin for her assistance in defeating the Turkish fleet at the Battle of Lepanto.

A monumental stairway, 124 steps, was added in 1348 for those praying for an end to the Black Plaque or seeking penance on their way up to the church (Okay, I confess. We took an easier approach through a side door.). In the Middle Ages, criminals were executed at the base of the stairway. In the 17th century, one of the royal princes who lived above took offense to international pilgrims sleeping on the steps and periodically rolled stone-filled barrels downward to chase them off.

Contemporary superstition claims the faithful who crawl up the stairway on their knees enhance their possibilities to win the national lottery. No point for us. We will never win any lottery. You have to pay to play.