:: Ruins ::

:: RuiNs :: :: one :: :: covered by the soft calming reassuring blanket of rare white stuff – one of only two such events i remember :: like a tranquilizer shot :: opium on the tumors of history :: muting the madness of history :: a shroud hiding untold atrocities lurking in amongst the smashed pieces of history :: :: but :: :: architects swarm over this debris like wedding dancing bees :: anglo-saxon architects licking up the history as if it were their very own :: as if they and only they were the designated rightful heirs to that history :: as if even the romans were not worthy of that history :: as if vitruvius had been born in the bronx :: steadfastly ignoring the truth crushed beneath those pointless columns sticking up into the cold crisp air :: steadfastly ignoring all those sanguine dictators aka caesars and/or emperors bent on absolute dominion :: now covered by snow :: a makeshift veil :: briefly protecting the wounded hearts of the nameless :: protecting them from the hurt :: but make no mistake :: i am unapologetically roman :: through and through ::

1

1

© francis safaie-brown reversed}

::

early 1960s :: detail {for some obscure reason the image appears to be

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: even on a dreamy sunny summer’s day saturated

shelley’s

with and

the

spirits

keat’s

of and

romantic

byron’s

rome’ing through the meadow-like tranquility :: on such days even the most atrocious of pasts turns a melancholy shade of mellow :: dissipitated by the minutest perturbations of blundering butterflies :: mesmerized by the constant murmur of insects :: hypnotized by the lazy concert of cicadas :: what killer caesars :?: what murderous

emperors :?: :: but :: :: architects :: art historians :: and other dreamy eyed self-proclaimed historians :: they who only see beauty :: they who don’t see the human suffering :: the endless daily tragedies :: the hunger :: the anguish of the mothers :: they who don’t want to see the downtrodden :: they who don’t even want to care about the misery of the unsung masses :: they applaud the blood tainted works :: these decaying fountainheads of crippled intellectual beauty ::

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:: RuiNs :: 2

2

© francis safaie-brown

::

early 1960s

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:: RuiNs :: :: three :: :: sort of like an army medusa’d to marble for all eternity :: pointless :: facing the palatine :: hoping for the reincarnation of romulus :: or remus :: but not both at the same time :: the memory of sibling bloodshed :: terrible :: but :: studiously ignoring the future :: ignoring the gaggles of architects passing through :: praising something :: something they never were a part of :: a relic they’ve placed at the heart of some vague eurocentric culture :: a manifesto :: a justification for all their imperialistic atrocities :: committed in the name of roman godlike dictators :: from caesars to czars :: may i remind the reader :: i am unapologetically roman :: through and through ::

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:: RuiNs :: 3

3

© francis safaie-brown

::

mid 1950s :: detail

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: four ::

:: what a beautiful panorama :: cradle of our civilization :: wonderful :: columns :: lovely columns :: renaissance churches with roman porticos :: such delight :: architecture :: architecture everywhere :: and zeus :: sorry :: jupiter :: jupiter’s confused spirit wandering amidst them ruins :: somewhat forlorn perhaps :: trying to make sense of this elaborate jigsaw puzzle :: but really is nothing but a field of useless bleached pieces of marble :: punctuated by bizarre structures :: actually bits of structures :: structures with no context to anything :: especially with no context to time :: a delightful romanesque campanile in front of the colosseum :-: christians’ sands of death :: a delightful temple to virgins :: yeah – right :: :: or :: :: the romans :?: they don’t really care :: now as then :: as for me :?: for me as a child it was a wonderful place to climb over things :: i was told there had stood buildings here :: in some golden age of humanity :: fantastic buildings :: draped in gold :: so i stood awhile :: peering through the viewfinder :: and captured confusion :: not gilded buildings sparkling in the roman midday sun :: things that supposedly were magnificent remains of temples of astonishing beauty :: adored and venerated :: then as now :: but looked more like a mess of amputated corpses :: so make no mistake :: i might be an expatriate :: but i am unapologetically roman :: through and through ::

4

4

© francis safaie-brown

::

mid 1950s

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: five :: :: skeleton of a temple to a fierce and angry god :: dictate by figments :: the curia :: temple to the people :: dictate by politicians :: and a church :: temple transformed:: dictate by divinity :: and the people :?: where are the people :?: not even shadows :: just useless chunks of marble :: and a brick box :: emergent strange attractor of republican ideology :: get down on your hands and knees :: kiss the dust on the ground of our political masters :: kiss the architecture of that brick box for it is a shrine ::

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs ::

5

5

© francis safaie-brown

::

mid 1950s

::

detail

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: six :: :: really paradoxical :: a temple portico with a church added on :: weird :: an homage to god stuck on to a pantheon of make-belief :: the church builders obviously couldn’t care less about those columns :: in the ideological name of renaissance it was a great argument :: an absurd illogical tromp d’oiel :: an amazingly twisted argument :: gave them popes absolute power :: absolute power to terrorize the populace :: as i peered through the viewfinder i couldn’t see what i was supposed to :: a graham greene’s power and glory :: instruments of utmost cruelty in the name of gods :: how could i see that :: i was a child :: once more :: i am unapologetically roman :: through and through ::

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:: RuiNs :: 6

6

© francis safaie-brown

::

mid 1950s

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:: RuiNs :: :: seven ::

::

centuries

upon

centuries

::

layered :: rising like vapors through the murky dusk before the etruscan dawn all the way up to the pathetic pinnacle of italy’s last king

::

history

a triumphant wake-cake of

::

rising up from the surreal

secret of the lapis niger :: curling through triumphant arches and chariots of untold myths :: like frankincense the aroma of real

–

::

air smokefilled with

rome :: but not the rome :: no :: a

the living

rome that had never existed :: not as all those pathetic historians want

us

to

believe

::

architecture historians confusing architecture with tacked on art :: more like a rome in joyful adoration of beauty :: a rome where even the poorest

citizen know of the meaning of being a roman ::

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:: RuiNs ::

7

7

© francis safaie-brown

::

mid 1950s

::

detail

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:: RuiNs :: :: eight :: :: beneath that shoddy lean-to :: the lapis niger :: the cradle of all that romantic drivel oozing down the centuries :: this lapis niger thing :: like washed up by a sudden flood :: dropped by the tiber into the swamp between

the

hills

where

not

even

an

etruscan ventured for fear of death :: the mons palatinus :: the esquiline :: and the twin peaks of capitoline hills :: they had already risen to modest prominence yet the future forum romanum was still a malaria mosquito ridden swamp :: the lapis niger :: perhaps romulus’ or remus’ tombstone :: allegorically speaking :: but pillar of worship to intellect starved architects and

art historians ::

of

graeco-roman

delirium

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:: RuiNs :: 8

8

© francis safaie-brown remember taking ::

::

early 1950s

::

detail :: terrible snapshot :: but amongst the earliest i

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: nine ::

:: such power :: overwhelming :: mons palatinus :: such arrogance :: stunning :: the magnificence of absolute power :: the power of absolute exploitation :: with architecture on its side :: sure :: we love this sort of thing :: the amazing gobsmacking superlative of architecture :: classical architecture :: for a mad man and his cronies :: and the people :: slaves :: with their vocal cords ripped out ::

9

© francis safaie-brown :: i remember inching my way towards the edge, expecting to go crashing down through the debris of time at any moment ::mid 1950s 9

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: ten :: :: of all the ruins this one is the most bizarre :: a monument to the history of holocausts :: the kkk-like burning of christians :: the entertaining disembowelment of slaves :: and more :: to the thunderous applause of caesars :: like some fun-filled made for hollywood extravaganza :: demented violence feeding upon violence in hyperbolic self-referential feedback loops :: ok :: so it’s a triumph of engineering :: no doubt about that :: but not really architecture :: so why are architects all stir-crazy about this monstrosity :?: as for me :: it was a climbing wall :: in those days before there were climbing walls :: and you didn’t have to wear helmets :: i just clambered all over that thing :: just like those holy-poly renaissance folk helping themselves to all that marble :: for their mundane profane palaces :: they didn’t care about those stones :: so why do we :: once again :: make no mistake :: i am unapologetically roman :: through and through ::

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: /

10 11

10

© francis safaie-brown © francis safaie-brown palatine :: 11

:: ::

mid/late 1950s :: view from domus aurea :: mid 1960s :: amongst the last snapshots i took – crawling around the

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: eleven ::

:: brilliant :: not architecture :: way beyond architecture :: way beyond structural engineering :: an immense testimony to immense power :: on a scale hardly rivaled even in these days :: like some on the verge of becoming animated dali’esque surreal object :: set to lumber across the dreamy countryside :: coming from nowhere :: going nowhere ::

:: let us remember ::

12

© francis safaie-brown :: early 1950s :: and yes :: that’s me father :?: he would have taken a picture of just the ruins} 12

:: {my mother took this picture :: my

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©

:: RuiNs :: :: twelve ::

:: let us remember :: :: palladio :?: nice guy :: but not a roman :: me :: unapologetically roman :: them ruins :?: we love them ruins :: we hate them ruins :: they are in our blood :: we have inhaled the dust from them ruins :: so, we don’t write all that nerdy stuff about them :: we integrate them into our fabric – the fabric of our freudian id – the fabric of our homes ::

we live in them just if they were modern architecture :: like a poor family overlooking the railroad tracks lived in a gutted tomb down the road from where we lived :: like a millionaire family lived in a tomb on the via appia anticcha :: so why am i not living in amongst them :: well :: what do you call it :: duodena :: doesn’t sound right :: diaspora :: that’s better :: i’m a single person roman diaspora :: every roman is a single person roman diaspora :: so :: i make no apologies for being roman :: i make no apologies for the quality of the images :: i received my first camera before I turned ten :: so my abilities as a photographer haven’t improved over the years :: but i saw what i saw :: strange chunks of marble :: littering the environment ::

: :fRaNcis-safaie-bR0wN:: ©