|
entry May 2005
Symbols of
Naples
It is not surprising that Mt. Vesuvius is a
common symbol of
Naples. There have been so many paintings and photos of " 'a
muntagna" over the years, it's almost as if artists and weekend
snapshooters were engaging in ritual propitiation, You know, "If we
feed
Your ego enough with all this art, maybe You won't explode again. Very sincerely, we remain Your faithful
servants in Pompei." Who knows.
I am fascinated by stylized graphics of
Vesuvius. I have no
idea how many there have been over the years, but a recent copy of the International
Journal of Semiotics, Statistics and Ouija Boards informs me,
reliably,
that "there are really a lot" of such graphics done by advertisers,
artists, school children and bored doodlers to depict Vesuvius. They
range from Andy Warhol's famous—for 15
minutes, anyway— explosion of color (at the top of this page) to the
works
of anonymous
designers churning out ads. (A few of those
are on the right.)
Other
symbols are a bit harder to come by.
Dangerous,
even. The 30-foot-high ceilings of the
Royal Palace could only have been painted and ornamented by giraffes.
(Indeed,
it is my understanding that the revolutions of 1820 and 1848 in Naples
could
have been avoided if only the despotic rulers of the kingdom had
realized they
were spending too much money on giraffes and not enough on guns and
butter.)
Anyway, walking around said Royal Palace staring at said ceilings is a
very
good way to fall down the magnificent Bourbon staircase,
but also a
good way
to notice a splendid example of the triskelion,
or triskele.
The triskelion is a symbol formed by three
of almost
anything conjoined and radiating from the center—triangles, commas,
lines,
circles, tear or water drops, trombone slides, arms, or legs. Such
symbols are
very widespread in human cultures and are found all the way from Celtic
mythology to Buddhist art. The one in the Royal Palace (photo, above)
—with stylized
human legs
radiating from the center—is common in ancient Greek culture. The
symbol is
found on Greek coins and even earlier Mycenean pottery. In
the palace, the triskelion is there as a symbol of Sicily,
representing the claim of the Bourbon monarchy to rule the "Kingdom of
the Two
Sicilies," a term applied on and off to the southern half of the
Italian
peninsula since the 1400s—Palermo, of course, being the first Sicily
and, then,
Naples the second.
As a symbol of Sicily, the triskelion
(meaning
"three
legs" in Greek) goes back to the existence of Sicily as part of Magna
Grecia, the colonial extension of Greece beyond the Aegean.
Pliny—either the
Elder, the Younger, or the One in Middle—says the use of the triskelion
to represent ancient Trinacria (an earlier name for
Sicily)—is symbolic of the triangular shape of the island, defined by
three
distinct capes, equidistant one from the other. (The modern names: Cape
Peloro,
at the straits of Messina; Cape Passero, at the southern tip; and Cape
Lilibeo,
at Marsala in the west.)
On that note, the same lovely person, Laura,
who brought the triskelion on the ceiling to my attention in the first
place (as she was falling down the stairs) now tells me that
| "...the triskelion was
invented by Greek sailors, who thought the island turned around. Since
the early navigators didn't use the North Star they had to cling to the
coastlines. If they lost sight of Sicily due to storm or mists, they
were lost at sea and risked sailing off the edge of the Pillars of
Hercules. Thus, the belief developed that Sicily was tricky and not
fixed so that she turned like a wheel and confused the sailors as to
which cape they were seeing--or should we say 'seaing'." |
I don't know if that part about not using the north star convinces me,
but as stories go, it's a good one! In any event,
in the center of most depictions of the
Sicilian triskelion
is a human face, that of the Medusa, one of the aspects of the goddess
Athena,
patron saint of the island. The triskelion appealed to the Bourbons of
Naples
primarily because it was NOT a Bourbon symbol; it was classical Greek
and, as
such, lent historical weight to the claim of unity of Sicily and
mainland. (The keen-eyed will noticed a smaller, secondary triskelion
within the
first, radiating out from between the legs. They appear to be stalks of
wheat. The harvest? Fertility? Phallic symbols? All of those? Guess
away.)
I have not
scoured the city on a great triskelion hunt, but
I can't help but notice that in everyday places there are designs that
fit at
least
the general description of "three of almost anything conjoined and
radiating from the center," such as the leaf design (photo, right) on
the
facade
of the Church of the Redeemer on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele in Naples.
Also, in the category of Two Symbols for the
Price of One is
the red amulet (bottom, left) that is either (1) a single curved corno
(animal
horn),
representing the sexual vigor implied in the phallic symbol or (2) a
serpent,
with a possible connection to ancient ophiolatry (serpent worship). It
might be
both, which makes it all the more interesting, especially since there
is now a
third possibility. Vendors of the
famous peperoncini—small Calabrian red peppers—stylize
the ads for their red-hot little veggie (Capsicum
frutescens perenne ) such that it resembles the
amulet. The symbolism is enough to take your breath
away.
The peppers will do that, too.
to main index
to portal for traditions & customs
|