About nature

Nature is of course beautiful and wonderful. It is the subject of countless superbly filmed BBC natural history documentaries. It is something in quest of whose greatest sights we are ready to travel the continents. Or more modestly, closer to home, we are ready to bask in admiration of, as birds twitter by a gurgling brook in the woods.

And yet I had a friend at university who used to say: “I don’t know why people get so excited about nature. Nature is just something that shits on me.”

He was, in his provocative way, reacting against the adoration of nature, a relatively recent trend in the history of thought, which seeks to glorify nature as being, for want of a better word, “natural” as opposed to corrupted by civilization. “Natural” is generally seen as good; note how the word figures so often in advertising. Rousseau’s “noble savage” is emblematic of a desire to shake off the artificial constraints of society and to return to something perceived to be spontaneously purer. “Back to nature” has become a rallying cry from the Romantics onwards, right down to today’s organic farming movement, for all those jaded with the worst excesses of how mankind has organized the economy and society. City-dwellers, including myself, in our spare time have sought to escape to the countryside, to the great outdoors, to embrace and commune with Nature. Painters such as Caspar David Friedrich beautified mountainous landscapes which for centuries had rather terrorized locals. Indeed they were right to be terrified, as once unleashed the brutal forces of nature can in a few moments soon destroy what mankind has patiently and painstakingly constructed over many years. This month’s earthquake and tsunami in Japan are stark reminders that nature does shit on us, big time.

Civilzation, beginning with agriculture, has striven to keep nature at bay, to claim from it a space for man that must be constantly defended. Virgil writes in the “Georgics”: “Though you drive nature out with a pitch-fork, she will return”. Generally, this Sisyphean endeavour can be made easier and more successful by trying to work with the grain of nature rather than against it. By respecting the patterns of nature, our activities may be more fruitful and sustainable. Hence, it is not a good idea to build on the flood-plain of a river or in a known avalanche path. Still nature is nothing if it is not unpredictable; or rather its recurrent patterns being often on a geological timescale may be imperceivable to man whose life is but the blinking of an eye by the same measure. And yet, man may reckon that a risk is worth taking. The soil around a volcano is so fertile that it may be worth cultivating it and living on it, on the assumption that the next eruption is a thousand years away. Whether building a nuclear power plant in a seismic area is a risk worth taking is, of course, another matter.

In modern times the godess-like Nature has come to be replaced with the more scientific Environment (to which administer also priests, but in white coats). The crucial thing is that man is essentially and rightly still filled with the same veneration and awe before it. The message remains, "Respect Nature / the Environment, or it will bite back": as in, overheat the planet and you will be flooded out along the coastline; or pour enough toxins into the soil and you will choke on your food. Make no mistake, Mother Earth will go on, with us or without us, shrugging us off if we are too inconvenient. Species come and go as part of the ever changing pattern of evolution that is life. At any one time the whole system (Gaia) is in balance; but if parameters change, such as average temperature, then a new balance will come into being which may or may not include us. It is the Earth / Nature that is robust and beyond our irreparably harming it, and it is we human beings who are the endangered species. Nature does not depend on us, nor can it be tamed.

As a mountaineer, I have learned to appreciate the unspoiled open spaces, majestic forms, fresh air and calm of the Alps, while at the same time to be acutely aware of the limitations of my own abilities and endurance, which often require that I must turn back without reaching my objective. I must respect nature.

As a gardener I have learned that my aesthetic is not really natural, that I have to constantly remove spontaneously growing plants which I have designated as “weeds”, in favour of ones I have artificially introduced. Yet I still let my chosen plants grow where they most thrive rather than where I might otherwise place them. It is possible then to strike a compromise with nature.

This compromise has characterized human development. It is perhaps only more recently that post- religious scientific man has abandoned his earlier humility and reverence before nature and assumed a more exploitative, unsustainable stance, which we are now coming to see as doomed to failure.

There need of course be no antithesis between man and nature, because seen properly, as an animal, man is also part of nature. All the laws of the natural world apply to man himself. As with the rest of nature, man’s number one objective is to survive and reproduce, perpetuating the species. And so man’s life too is characterized by cycles of birth, growing up, becoming in turn a parent, ageing and death.

On a daily level too man is ruled by his body, his need for food and drink, sleep and shelter. Our body itself has all its organs in common with other mammals, only the brain is somewhat more developed. As such our body is our first-hand and most familiar example of the fitness for purpose that is typical of nature’s designs.

The beauty of nature is first and foremost functional, the product of efficiency and the laws of physics. There is an underlying logic behind the patterns and forms in nature. That is why we see these shapes repeated through the plant and animal kingdoms and in the topography of the earth on the full range of scales from the miniature to the gigantic.

Man’s own aesthetic is informed by nature. As we, like other animals, are in form symmetrical on a vertical axis, that same vertical symmetry is our recurrent aesthetic ideal from classical architecture through to modern design. Other shapes in nature also inspire us: we borrow columns from the mighty forests, we copy the perfection of the circle seen in the sun; we fequently use botanical forms as decoration. Our own main contributions to design, on the other hand, which are the right angle and the straight line, seem crude compared to the gradual elyptical curves of nature, which have been lovingly copied for example by the baroque or art nouveau styles.

Yet in the end, all our artistic attempts remain artificial, clumsily stylized next to the infinite, fine and sophisticated variety of form, texture and colour visible in the natural world. It is a world in which the forms are instantly recognizable but the individual specimens endlessly varied: this is a tree, but it is different to the next one; just as I am a man but am different to the next one. This is the joy of observing nature. Our copying of nature in art may be imperfect but it can at least teach us to use our eyes in a different way, to look again and see afresh.

The longer you sit still outside, say in the woods, by a river or the sea, on a hilltop, the longer you look, the more you observe, then the more you see and absorb. Then you in turn may lose yourself and become absorbed yourself into surrounding nature. This is what we mean by contemplating nature: transcending the self, becoming part of the whole again. This sitting still outside, doing nothing, contemplating nature is not time wasted: it is one of the most profitable things you can do with your life; it is a moment of becoming truly alive.

About Rome

I have just spent a few days in Rome, at first working in the outskirts and then staying on for the weekend in the centre with our friends Umberto and Silvia. Rome never ceases to fascinate and delight me. It is inexhaustible and offers a life-time of discoveries. When asked the question, “What is your favourite city ?” I unhesitatingly answer “Rome”... at least that is as a tourist, of course whether I would want to live there full time is another matter.

For a start Rome is quintessentially Italian and I just enjoy being in Italy. When Italy unified through the “risorgimento” there was some hesitation as to what its capital should be, but it could only possibly have been Rome given its prominence throughout history, even if Milan may be more important economically.

Rome gives you the style and cheerful chaos you expect of Italy, the beauty, the exuberance, the architecture and art, the good food. Rome has it all in spades.

I simply find Rome stunningly beautiful. I adore the crazy juxtaposition of styles and periods. The more uniform grandiose elegance of Paris just doesn’t do it for me in the same way. London is lively and fun, but it is not beautiful. In Rome the sun shines, the light is gorgeous, the colours are rich: the blue of the sky, the ochres of the buildings, the iridescent greens of the towering pines, the glowing white marble of the façades, all serve to make a feast for the eyes.

Rome is not overdone, it’s not manicured and over-restored like Vienna, and the centre is compact and on a human scale, unlike say Berlin. (I mention here in passing the names of some of my other favourite cities).

Walking remains the best way to get about the centre and that’s just what you find people, both locals and tourists, doing in droves. History is everywhere and yet it is a modern, bustling, living capital.

I first went to Rome on a school trip when I was about thirteen. For the benefit of schoolboys learning Latin, the teachers’ focus was on things Ancient Roman and so I remember being suitably amazed by the Forum and Colosseum.

My next visit was at eighteen en route for Greece, rather roughing it that time, but still able to afford a good cheap meal with plenty of wine. From that trip I remember returning to the centre late at night from a concert in the EUR in an unbelievably packed out bus with people hanging off the side. The driver decided there was no point stopping en route and drove straight to the last stop. Once there the bus disgorged its contents and the drinking fountains disappeared under a scrum of passengers. The drinking fountains so frequent in Rome and essential in the summer are one of the legacies of the great civilzation of the Roman Empire.

Later at twenty-one, by when I could speak a little Italian, on my way back from Naples to Germany on a much delayed train (which was typical of how you travelled around Italy in those days) I fell in with a bunch of Roman lads with who I was standing in the corridor. When it became clear that I had missed my connection at Rome, they insisted I should stop over with them. In a flat in a fairly non-descript neighbourhood in the outskirts I was treated to full Roman hospitality with plenty of good home cooking and local wine. On the wall was a map of the Roman Empire and pointing to it the proud father of my host family explained how his city had for a long time been the centre of the universe, even far away Britain had been one of its colonies.

Since I started working I have visited Rome fairly regularly both for my job and for pleasure. My longest stay lasted for eight days on an Italian language refresher course in 1998, during which I got to visit many Italian institutions based in the capital such as the Parliament, Central Bank, City Hall and RAI TV.

On more recent visits we have been guests of our friends, Umberto and Silvia, who have a lovely flat from which you can see the Aurelian wall and San Giovanni in Laterano. Umberto now works at the Italian Parliament, and has an office in an old palazzo overlooking a beautiful patio. On his office wall hangs a centuries old painting; every office has one, with of course a hierarchical pecking order, so as you get promoted you get to display a more famous old master.

He loves to show us hidden away treasures such as Roman ruins visible under a new hospital building, neglected churches with interesting paintings or some of the more original small old shops that still survive in the centre.

Once, when their flat was too full as both families’ children were also there, we stayed nearby in a pilgrims’ guest-room accessible through the entrance of a baroque church. Breakfast was served in the monks’ old vaulted refectory. This former convent is located right up against the Roman wall and monks still tend a market garden inside the remains of a small Roman amphitheatre incorporated into the city wall.

This is typical of how, in the crowded city centre, historic spaces are used for everyday purposes and new buildings are constructed on top of and around previous ones from earlier centuries.

It’s always been like that: the impressive Roman temple of the Pantheon with its huge dome acts as a memorial church; the medieval fortress of Castel Sant’Angelo is built atop of Hadrian’s mausoleum. It’s not uncommon to see old Roman columns incorporated into the walls of more recent yet still venerable buildings. The town mansions of noble and papal families are recycled as ministries and embassies. The eternal city lives on.

You can’t always get into some of these buildings, so on this last trip it was great to have an opportunity to visit the inside of the Palazzo Farnese, a huge renaissance pile partly designed by Michelangelo and home to the French embassy. The ambassador’s vast office has wonderful frescos by Carracci. It was once also the seat of the Napoleonic secret police and is hence the scene of Act 2 of Tosca.

We also visited the gallery in Palazzo Colonna which is only open on Saturday mornings.

These palaces belonged and in some cases (like Colonna) still do belong to noble families who made vast fortunes by ascending to the Papacy. The Popes were not so much religious leaders as monarchs of the largest state in Italy. More than upholding the faith they were interested in amassing wealth and securing dynastic succession for their barely camouflaged offspring. They were not ascetics but enjoyed the good life and were also great patrons of the arts, which served to display their opulence and preserve their memory. Thus the Popes endowed the city with monuments, in particular the magnificent fountains such as Bernini’s in Piazza Navona. The many fountains of Rome attest to an exquiste taste in the urban environment.

The curious thing about Rome’s art collections is that they are not all together in a national gallery but dispersed among the once private galleries of such papal families as the Barberini, Borghese, Doria-Pamphilj, Colonna, Spada and Corsini, plus of course in the Vatican. It can take you a while to get round them all. Then of course there are many works which are still in situ, in the place for which they were commissioned, such as the Caravaggio paintings and Michelangelo sculptures in churches, not to mention the frescoes, most famously in the Sistine Chapel.

With all this fine art you can quickly reach saturation, so it’s good to take a break from the sight-seeing after you’ve taken in one collection and to stroll about the streets observing how everyday life continues and then chill at a café . In fact it would take you years to see everything.

The Roman Catholic Church obviously is inescapable in Rome, as the headquarters of this truly international organization is located in the Vatican, an entire independent state within the city. By the way I once got a glimpse of the inside of it by taking the regular bus from the museum exit back to St. Peter’s Square. Priests, nuns and pilgrims of all different languages races and colours can be seen and heard everywhere in Rome.

I’m not sure whether anybody knows exactly how many churches there are in Rome, but it’s agreed there are certainly over 900. They range from the small romanesque, such as San Clemente, to the colossal over the top baroque, such as Saint Peter’s itself, and indeed by force of centuries of long accretion sometimes a mixture of both, such as San Giovanni in Laterano, which is the Cathedral Church of the Bishop of Rome and therefore the second most important church in the city. One style that you won’t see much of though is gothic, that would be too Northern for the Mediterranean feel of Rome. It would also take you years to visit all the churches.

Alongside the omnipresence in Rome of the Church from being the capital of Catholicism, the next great constant in the landscape of Rome are the ruins from being the capital of the Roman Empire. Indeed the very topography of the city goes back to imperial times. The heart of the old city is defined by the great wall erected by the Emperor Aurelian from 270 AD, when it had become clear that the capital actually needed protecting from marauding hordes of barbarians. The Circus Maximus is still a handy central space for important outdoor events. The shape of the smaller Stadium of Domitian forms Rome’s perhaps most beautiful square, the Piazza Navona. Some of the famous seven hills are still topped by important public buildings, such as the City Hall on the Capitoline and the President of the Republic’s Palace on the Quirinal. The largest surviving Roman building, the Colosseum, is often taken as the symbol of the city.

I have recently been re-reading Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” and was therefore in the mood for some ruins, so on my free afternoon the other Friday I headed down to the Forum to stroll around and sit in the sun. This is something that European travellers, writers and artists have done for centuries, sitting, reflecting on the “glory that was Rome”, and sometimes sketching the ruins.

I hadn’t realized until this last trip that Mussolini committed a colossal act of vandalism by driving the wide Via dei Fori Romani right through the historic site all the way from the overstated pomp of the Vittoriale monument to the unknown soldier (commonly known as the “Wedding cake”) to the Colosseum as he felt the grandeur of perspective thereby offered matched his own neo-imperial ambitions. A terrible loss. In earlier centuries you could wander across to Trajan’s column from the rest of the forum.

On one trip we had a privileged close-up view of the bas-relief sculptures that run all the way to the top of Trajan’s column, because an acquaintance of Clara’s was working on its restoration and was able to guide us up the scaffolding around it. The detail, usually too distant to observe closely, is really fine.

If you want to admire the full range of Roman sculpture a visit to the National Roman (Archeology) Museum is a must. They also have some surprising wall paintings which have survived the millenia. The Romans, who are so often admired for their architectural and civil engineering skills, were also no mean interior decorators. Their art is traditionally felt to be less elegant and sophisticated than the Greeks’, not least for its virile glorification of the military, but it would be wrong to underestimate it.

The downside to all of Rome being built on top of ancient ruins is that it is impossible to dig a hole without the Superintendance of Archeological Sites descending and calling a halt while a survey is carried out. The metro has famously spent decades creeping forward. In Fellini’s “Roma” there is a well-known scene where beautiful intact Roman frescoes are found during construction work on the metro, but then suddenly disappear when they come into contact with the outside air. Many of the other scenes in “Roma” filmed in 1972 also seem just as relevant today, notably the traffic chaos and the presentation of the Vatican in the clerical fashion show sequence.

Thirdly then, after being the capital of the Empire and the Church, Rome is of course also the capital of Italy. This is where you put away your guide-book and revel in spectating everyday Roman life. This is in fact a show being put on for passers-by: whether it’s flaunting money and power, dressing up to be noticed, making a scene in a bid to get some sympathy or being funny to get a laugh. At the risk of over-generalization, there is something in the Italian upbringing, with its protective loving mothers and the public fondness of children, which builds a feeling of self-confidence and a desire to be looked at and made a fuss over that clings to Italians through the rest of their lives in a charming outgoing way. This is very much on display in the streets and squares of Rome which remain a public theatre of everyday life, at least certainly more so than in the North. Watching the world go by, witnessing a row between a bus-driver and a badly parked car, going to a popular neighbourhood restaurant, admiring the passing fashionably dressed women can be as good as watching Fellini.

As Rome is the centre of political life in Italy, if you are at all interested, the signs of its presence are never far away: important people stepping into and out of limousines in places otherwise inaccesible to traffic; activists collecting signatures; daubed slogans and layer upon layer of political posters on walls; people demonstrating with megaphones and banners; endless grand buildings occupied by ministries and public bodies. Obviously with Umberto who works for the Parliament acting as our guide, we are made aware of what’s going on.

Like any capital, Rome is also very active culturally and I like to get along to the theatre and temporary exhibitions when there.

One thing I also like about Rome is that the food tends to be very good. There are so many Romans eating out that there are far more proper restaurants for locals than poor quality tourist traps, which is different to the case in Florence and Venice for example. Like any region in Italy, Rome is rich in local specialities which are worth sampling. I’m particularly fond of the vegetable antipasti.

Rome keeps you busy as a tourist, but it keeps you perhaps too busy if you have to live there permanently, in the sense that in a cramped historic city not designed for modern life, the business of everyday living is not always that easy.

Schools, universities, hospitals and so on are short of cash for the numbers of people they have to cater for. Dealing with the administration is a nightmare for the same reason. Sadly, as the administrative centre of Italy, Rome is also a hot-spot for nepotism and croneyism which fill many public offices with people who have no real qualification for their job other than being among the family and friends of those in power and so do little. Corruption in general is widespread, which brings all its attendant inefficiencies to any system. I personally suspect that this has been a constant in the history of the city ever since ancient times and as such deeply engrained in the way of life and thinking of the majority.

Then simply getting about is difficult if you need to do things and transport stuff. In the centre of Rome it is a physical impossibility to park a car. By day the public transport is not so bad, albeit usually packed out, but it is only sporadic in the evening, when it becomes very hard to find a taxi.

And so on.

So much as I adore visiting Rome, I’m not so sure I would really want to live there.

Instead I shall keep on returning as an eternal visitor to the eternal city.