Emptiness as a new space of communitization and visual presentation: Urbi et Orbi on 27 March 2020

By art historian Eva-Bettina Krems

The images of deserted urban spaces in the time of corona will shape our memories of this crisis. The abandonment of otherwise busy places across almost the entire world suddenly made us discover things that had been invisible before the pandemic: majestic jellyfish in the now crystal-clear canals of Venice; the monumental marble floor of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, whose five naves can hold up to 60,000 worshippers; and the circular paving around the Kaaba in Mecca, which, situated at the centre of the Al-Haram Mosque, only gave an inkling this year of the crowds of people who usually surround the shrine: up to 820,000 people can gather there.

But the emptiness also created new spaces of communitization and visual presentation. On 27 March 2020, at the height of the pandemic in Italy, Pope Francis gave an “extraordinary” blessing, Urbi et Orbi, in St. Peter’s Square, an event that had probably last taken place in 1950, when Pope Pius XII combined the solemn blessing with the proclamation of the dogma of the bodily assumption of Mary into heaven. However, the occasion for this year’s extraordinary blessing was not an event internal to the church, but one that threatens the entire world across all religious boundaries. The Pope usually gives the blessing from the central balcony of St. Peter’s Cathedral; for 27 March, though, it was decided to build some distance from the church façade a low, stage-like structure on St. Peter’s Square, one covered by a modern canopy in the form of a narrow roof equipped with LEDs. This spatial setting, reminiscent of a pop concert, made the blessing during twilight particularly impressive, and not least due to the isolation of the figure of the white-robed pope at the centre of the pedestal. His gaze fell on the deserted square, glittering in the rain, where tens of thousands of people usually gather. As always, this peculiarly concentrated ceremony in the empty space was broadcast live on radio and television around the world, church regulation having made it possible for more than 50 years for people to receive the blessing electronically: since 1967, via radio; since 1985, via television; since 1995, via the Internet. But a blessing without a physical audience had never before taken place. The paradox may consist in the fact that the effect of communitization across religious boundaries was created in a special way precisely by the empty square, because the disturbing effect of the deserted space was then being experienced all over the world, be it at Times Square in New York with the lights flashing into the emptiness, at Alexanderplatz in Berlin, whose concrete-grey monotony is furrowed by the tram tracks, or at Prinzipalmarkt in Münster, the city’s “living room”, where a sofa was briefly placed in the emptiness.

But of course what also had an effect on the empty space of St. Peter’s Square on 27 March 2020 were the symbolic acts of Catholicism linked to the blessing, such as the Eucharistic worship, when the Pope holds up a monstrance with the Host (which for Catholic believers is the body of Christ), the sight of which grants an indulgence. The Vatican emphasized that the symbolic act was meant neither as an incantation nor as a magical defence against danger. However, the small selection of the works of art also shown barely support this claim. To the right and left of the Pope, somewhat set back into the façade, the large wooden crucifix from the Roman church of San Marcello and the panel from Santa Maria Maggiore (known as “Salus Populi Romani”) were each placed in front of a monumental column: both works had for centuries been vital weapons in the fight against epidemics. The crucifix of San Marcello to the left of the Pope, created in the 15th century, is considered a miraculous work of art after surviving a church fire in 1519 unscathed. When the plague epidemic broke out in Rome in 1522, it was carried through the streets in processions, and the epidemic is said to have subsided after only 16 days. Placed to the right of the Pope, the “Salus populi Romani” panel is the most important icon of Mary in Rome, and is even believed to have been created in late antiquity; indeed, according to legend, it is considered to be the work of the evangelist Luke. “Salus populi” (“Salvation of the people”) is the invocation of the Virgin Mary for protection. It is reported that, during a great plague epidemic in 590, Gregory the Great, pope and church father (in around 540-604), had this image of the Virgin Mary carried through Rome, which brought the epidemic to an end.

Popes, church princes, kings and emperors have for centuries used miraculous pictorial works to underpin their own political-religious interests. In 1613, at the height of the Counter-Reformation, Pope Paul V created for the “Salus populi Romani” a magnificent golden room and setting in the Cappella Paolina in Rome’s most important Church of Our Lady. Pope Francis particularly venerates the icon, and on 27 March 2020 he had it removed from this elaborate setting to present it to the world (albeit in a glass case). To the horror of restorers, though, the Crucified Christ from San Marcello was left completely unprotected, and raindrops fell on the crucifix. Finally, the white-robed pope in the centre is framed by the baroque spectacle unfolding in the subdued light within the church, visible through the central portal: there, in the central apse, Bernini’s Cathedra of Peter, borne by the church fathers, is dimly visible, covered by angels on clouds, dipped in gold, who gather around the dove of the Holy Spirit, surrounded by light in the centre. In the media age, the Jesuit Pope placed himself very effectively in the history of papal stagings of votive images before an audience of millions.