The Island of the Dead

Island of the Dead, 1880, oil on wood, Arnold Böcklin

“You will be mourned by myself, and others you will mourn, and by your presence, you will signal grief.”  — Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book X

Whenever I visit Arnold Böcklin’s Island of the Dead at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I find myself completely absorbed by it. There is something strangely irresistible about the painting that makes it difficult to glance at and simply move on. The longer I stand before it, the more the surrounding gallery seems to recede, leaving me at the water’s edge, watching the funeral barge make its solemn approach.

A tiny, desolate island rises abruptly from dark, glassy waters, its pale cliffs enclosing a dense grove of towering cypress trees, symbols of death and mourning since antiquity.

In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the young Cyparissus, inconsolable after accidentally killing his beloved stag, begs the gods to allow him to mourn forever. Transformed into a cypress tree, the youth is destined to stand wherever others grieve.

Böcklin’s cypresses stand almost like a wall, concealing whatever lies at the island’s heart. Tomb-like openings have been hewn into the rock itself, as though the whole island were an immense sepulchre.

Across the still water, a small boat approaches the narrow inlet, guided by a solitary oarsman. Before him stands a mysterious figure shrouded in white, beside a festooned coffin. We do not know who has died, who accompanies the dead, or what awaits them within.

Perhaps this is why Island of the Dead remains so haunting. Böcklin does not attempt to show us what lies beyond death. He brings us only to its entrance and leaves us there, watching the ferry disappear beneath the cypresses.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 14th, Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross 

48th Annual Procession in Honor of Santa Fortunata at the Shrine Church of St. Bernadette in Brooklyn, NY

Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost at St. Michael's Church in Staten Island, New York

Babylon Berlin: Something Worth Watching, Eventually

A friend recently informed me, much to my delight, that the fifth and final season of Babylon Berlin was premiering this September. At last, I thought, something new worth watching.

My excitement lasted about as long as it took me to look it up. Turns out, the German premiere was September 10th. Apparently, here in the United States, we will have to wait until early 2027 to see it.

At a time when seemingly endless quantities of forgettable television are being churned out with remarkable efficiency, one of the few series I actually look forward to remains (for now) out of reach.

Not without its flaws, Babylon Berlin still has plenty that so much contemporary television lacks: atmosphere, style, intrigue, memorable characters, and the death knell of Weimar Berlin as its historical backdrop.

So, while Germany gets to return to the smoky cabarets, brothels, political conspiracies, criminal underworld, and a city standing on the threshold of catastrophe, I suppose I will spend the next several months doing what I usually do: watching old movies and wondering how, with more streaming content available than ever before, there can be so little worth watching.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli

Artemis (Diana) of Ephesus, Vatican Museums (I)

Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Feast of the Madonna Addolorata in Brooklyn, NY

Remembering Maria Isabella of Spain, Queen of the Two Sicilies

6 July, 1789 — 13 September, 1848

In memory of Maria Isabella of Spain, Queen of the Two Sicilies, we pray for the happy repose of her soul. Viva ‘a Reggina!

Eternal rest grant unto Her Majesty, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

More Postcards from Napoli (Part 02)

A few more photographs from my friend’s travels through Napoli and its surroundings, completing the latest batch he was kind enough to send our way.

Each new collection makes me a little more excited for my own return to the capitale this November. Until then, I am quite happy to keep receiving these little postcards from afar.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 12th, Feast of the Madonna di Montevergine

100th Annual Feast of San Gennaro at Most Precious Blood Church in Little Italy, New York

Flash Gordon and the Lost Art of Escapism

As I recently stated in my review of She (1935), I will not knowingly subject myself to the current dross passing itself off as science fiction and fantasy. Thankfully, there are still plenty of older films and shows worth watching and rewatching. Last movie night, I broke out my copy of Mike Hodges’s Flash Gordon (1980), produced by the legendary Dino De Laurentiis, and it was a blast from the past, as we spilled our popcorn and sang along to Queen's unforgettable theme song.

The film is colorful, extravagant, campy, and wonderfully over-the-top. Rather than apologizing for its pulp origins, it embraces them completely, transporting us to the strange and fantastical world of Mongo, with its rival kingdoms, bizarre creatures, elaborate costumes, beautiful women, battles, daring escapes, rocket ships, and larger-than-life villains.

Max von Sydow is magnificent as Ming the Merciless, while Brian Blessed nearly steals the film with his thunderous performance as Prince Vultan. Sam J. Jones makes for an appropriately straightforward, old-fashioned hero, while the sultry Ornella Muti is unforgettable as the seductive Princess Aura. And, of course, Melody Anderson brings plenty of charm and spirit to the role of Dale Arden.

Flash Gordon is not interested in realism, cynicism, or taking itself too seriously. Nor does it berate or preach to its audience, burdening its escapist pleasures with the ideological messaging, fashionable nihilism, and calculated vulgarity so common today. It is heroic, romantic, ridiculous, imaginative, and, above all, immensely entertaining, something much of modern fantasy seems to have forgotten.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 11th, Feast of Saints Protus and Hyacinth

Requiem Mass at Holy Trinity Church in Hackensack, New Jersey

A Prayer for the Victims of the September 11 Terrorist Attacks

Christ embracing the Twin Towers, St. Ephrem Church, Dyker Heights, Brooklyn
Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and families of the September 11, 2001 Islamist terrorist attacks—we still remember. May Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception protect and watch over you.

Prayer for Victims of Terrorism

Loving God, welcome into your arms the victims of violence and terrorism. Comfort their families and all who grieve for them. Help us in our fear and uncertainty, and bless us with the knowledge that we are secure in your love. Strengthen all those who work for peace, and may the peace the world cannot give reign in our hearts. Amen. 

A Chance Encounter with Il Vate

“Come to the Vittoriale, the muses of art, music and literature will be assembled.” ~ Gabriele D’Annunzio, in a letter to Tamara de Lempicka

How strange. On the very day I posted my meditation on Gabriele D’Annunzio, I happened upon a book about Tamara de Lempicka at my local used bookstore. Skimming through its pages and admiring the plates, I noticed an anecdote concerning Lempicka and Il Vate. That alone was enough for me to make up my mind and buy it. The price was certainly right.

Their encounter, as it happens, was a rather sordid affair, and one I will not repeat here.

I had originally picked up the book hoping to find something about Lempicka’s portrait of Suzy Solidor, one of my favorite works by the artist. The painting was there, beautifully reproduced, but alas, without any accompanying information.

Still, I left with the book. Sometimes a curious coincidence is reason enough.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 10th, the Feasts of St. Nicolas Tolentino and St. Pulcheria

Sixteenth Sunday After Pentecost at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

A Daughter of Ancient Etruria

Terracotta statue of a young woman,
Etruscan, late 4th-early 3rd century B.C.

It was during a recent visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in a woefully neglected corner of the museum, that I encountered her. Half hidden in a quiet mezzanine above the Greek and Roman galleries, the terracotta figure stood in solemn isolation. There was something haunting about her presence, as though this daughter of ancient Etruria had emerged momentarily from the underworld.

Fashioned in the late fourth or early third century B.C., the life-sized young woman once stood in a sanctuary. Her elaborate necklaces, armband, and grape-cluster earrings closely resemble those found at Lavinium, the city traditionally founded by King Aeneas, father of the Latin race, after he wandered from fallen Troy. Some of her pendants even bear Etruscan gods and heroes.

She belongs to that mysterious twilight when the old Italic world was slowly yielding to Rome. Yet standing there in the dim and forgotten gallery, she seemed less an archaeological object than an apparition, a solitary remnant of a vanished people whose gods, rites, and sanctuaries have long since disappeared, but who, through her, still whisper to us.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 9th, Feast of San Gorgonio

More Postcards from Napoli (Part 1)

My friend’s journey through Napoli continues, and so do the photographs arriving from his travels. This latest collection includes the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte, the Cappella del Tesoro di San Gennaro, and a journey along the Costiera Amalfitana.

There were too many good photographs for a single post, so here is the first of two more little collections from Napoli.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 9th, Feast of San Gorgonio 

100th Annual Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy, NY

Remembering Il Vate

One of my earliest memories of flight. As a young boy at the historic Ward’s Kiddie Park in Coney Island, I was endlessly drawn to the little fighter planes. My parents often recalled that I preferred this ride to almost any other. In my imagination, I was a great flying ace, soaring above the clouds in pursuit of the coveted Pour le Mérite—the legendary “Blue Max”

As a boy, I was fascinated by war and the great flying aces of the First World War, particularly the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, René Fonck, and Fulco Ruffo di Calabria. Yet few figures stirred my imagination more than Gabriele D’Annunzio, the legendary Il Vate. Long before I read his works or understood the complexities of his life, I was captivated by his audacity, aesthetic vision, and martial spirit. To my youthful imagination, he seemed to embody the rare union of the poet and the warrior.

Postage stamp from the Regency of Fiume
featuring Gabriele D’Annunzio. Issued in
1920 during his occupation of the city,
it stands as a small but evocative relic of
one of the most remarkable episodes of
twentieth-century Italian history.

Today, my admiration for D’Annunzio extends beyond the man of action to the symbolic world he created. As the foremost voice of Italian decadentismo, he embraced estetismo, the conviction that beauty stands among life’s highest ideals, while his engagement with Nietzsche inspired superomismo, an ideal of heroic self-fashioning and the cultivation of exceptional character. He rejected the complacency of bourgeois life, aspiring instead to shape his own existence into a work of art.

To me, Il Vate remains a powerful reminder that literature can speak not only to the intellect, but also to the archetypal depths of the human psyche.

For that reason, I continue to return to D’Annunzio’s corpus. He was among the first writers to awaken in me a sense that literature could aspire to something greater than entertainment or instruction. At its highest, it can become an encounter with beauty, symbol, memory, and the enduring mysteries of the human spirit.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 8th, Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary 

Feast of the Stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi at the Basilica of St. Stanislaus in Chicopee, Massachusetts