Domenico Carella in Taranto: Saint Pasquale Baylon's Church

Versione italiana

In the previous post Alessio talked about the Chapel of hte Sacrament in Saint Martino's Cathedral. This time we move and I take you in Taranto, following Domenico Carella's footprints. In this town there are several works of this painter, but I will linger on just one of them.

Garibaldi Square and Saint Pasquale Baylon' Church

 When you arrive in the centre of Taranto, you immediately meet Garibaldi Square, wide, crossed by busy people and coasted by cars that get out of the traffic of the town. I'm in the middle of the town and it shows.

From the centre of the square I look left: oh, a church. It neary goes unnoticed in the frenzy of the main streets: it's Saint Pasquale Baylon's Church, next to the convent of monks Alcantarini and on the same block of the MARTA.

I enter. There's nobody inside and some classic liturgical music in the background welcome me. The peace here is totaly opposed to the noisy town outside. I stand a moment, enchanted, admiring what is in front of me, then, on tiptoes, I take the right aisle and go ahead, admiring the elegant opulence of the church. In the walls, I see many paintings. I look at them carefully and notice that they're signed. This church is an exaltation of Carella family:  most of these works has been painted by Francesco, as the Saint Pasqual's Exstasy that dominate on the high altar, and just one by his father Domenico.  

I reach the transept and from this position I can see a big painting  of the Virgin. This is by Domenico Carella and, unlike those of Francesco, isn't signed.

There's no much light; the dim-light and the silence create a solemn atmosphere.

I get closer to look at it better and my gaze gets lost amog the details realized with mastery: the Virgin has a quiet and relaxed face, at the point that it seems that she doesn't care about what's happening, while the angels around that hold her seem a very organized team that move like one. Yes, it looks like they move! The Virgin blindly trusts and lets them work. Beneath them, perfectly still, Saint Francis and Saint Bonaventura look at the scene.  

There's the sacristan.

His presence takes me back to the reality.  

I'm afraid that he may have some objections related to the camera I hold in my hands; instead, he smiles at me with approval and lets me contemplate the painting for a while before going out and getting back to the life of the town.