The monastery church of San Sisto in Piacenza lost its most valuable piece in 1754: Raphael’s altarpiece “Sistine Madonna,” painted in 1513 specifically for this location. The monks sold the masterpiece to Augustus III of Saxony, who brought it to Dresden. Since then, a copy hangs above the high altar, while the original with its chubby-cheeked putti enchants the crowds in Dresden.
But anyone visiting San Sisto today finds no empty, sorrowful space. Even in the forecourt, children’s shouts drift from the monastery garden – as if Raphael’s angels have made themselves independent. In the left arcade, the Madonna is painted again on the wall, and under the gaze of her playing putti, ten-year-olds romp at foosball and table tennis. The atmosphere recalls a childhood paradise.
Inside the church it is quiet, but even there one can hardly escape depictions of angels. The space is a veritable playground of heavenly hosts: the baroque lectern is supported by muscular putti, and in the first chapel to the right of the apse, frescoes show more winged boys – one has become so entangled in a curtain that only helplessly kicking little legs peek out.
The abundance of children has a local reason: among the relics of San Sisto are not only those of its namesake Sixtus, an early martyr pope, but also the remains of four victims of the Bethlehemite Massacre of the Innocents. The omnipresence of angels is thus theological program – and Raphael’s stroke of genius with the putti was a profane commission.
The loss of the original does not weigh heavily on Piacenza given what remains. What are devout tourist crowds compared to the living use of a church? What are two little angels compared to a whole troop – let alone real rejoicing children in the courtyard? It warms the heart.
Source: www.faz.net
