Ecstasy of St Theresa

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Image:Estasi di Santa Teresa.jpg The Ecstasy of St Theresa (alternatively St. Teresa in Ecstasy or Transverberation of St. Teresa) is a marble sculpture by Gian Lorenzo Bernini, which is part of his complete architectural design, construction, and decoration the Cornaro Chapel of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome completed in 1652 for the then exorbitant sum of 12,000 scudi (c. $120,000).[1] The entire ensemble was completed or overseen by a mature Bernini during the Pamphilj papacy of Innocent X, when the sculptor's involvement with the profligate expenses of the prior pope, Urban VIII (Barberini), had caused Bernini to fall out of papal patronage. Cardinal Federico Cornaro, son of a noble Venetian family, had chosen the church of the Discalced Carmelites for a burial chapel. The chapel chosen had previously depicted St. Paul in ecstasy, and the Cardinal replaced it with the ecstatic event undergone by the recently canonized (in 1622), and first Carmelite saint.

The chapel is an explosion of colored marble, metal, and detail. Light filters though a window above Theresa, underscored by gilded rays. The dome is frescoed with the illusionistic cherub-filled sky with the descending light of the Holy Ghost allegorized as a pigeon. The two focal sculptural figures derive from an episode described by Teresa of Avila in her autobiography, The Life of St. Teresa of Jesus (1515-1582), a mystical cloistered Discalced Carmelite reformer and nun. The chapter describes divine visions, including one where she saw a young, beautiful, and lambent angel standing aside her body:

I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.
Chapter XXIX; Part 17, Teresa's Autobiography

[edit] Critical assessment

Some modern critics have derided the semi-syncopal religious experiences as veiled orgasmic phenomena rather than spiritual encounters; in particular, the body posture and facial expression of St. Teresa have caused some to assign her experience as one of climactic moment.[2]

Titillating as such a theory may be, most serious scholars of Baroque scholars doubt that Bernini, a follower of the mystical exercises of followers of St. Ignatius of Loyola,would have intended to depict here an episode of lust fulfilled. Instead, Bernini aims to express the facial and body equivalents to a state of divine joy, and the results are a transfiguring coma, the so-called Sleep of God, common to the mystics. It would have not been unusual for devout daily church-goers like Bernini to spend hours at prayer each day. Mystics like Theresa would affect days, often unfed, to achieve such visions. The expression here is more like that of the joy of heavenly encounter found in Bernini's Blessed Ludovica Albertoni in her deathbed.

This scenographic chapel unites lifelong themes for Bernini. True to Baroque sentiment, it illustrates a moment where divinity intrudes on an earthly body. The unity of architecture, theater, and sculpture is also a baroque feature, with the Holy Ghost as light bathing or guided by the gilded rays framing the stature from windows atop the chapel, allowing the sky to enter church. It also aims to capture a complex emotion equidistant from desirous fear, divine joy, complete awe, and physical satisfaction. The effects are theatrical, including the discourse the saint renders among the flanking Cornaro pedigree in their oratory boxes,[3]. The cherubic details around Teresa may repel a secular minimalist, yet they add to the notion that we are seeing a moment of time where God has intruded into one woman's soul, if not pierced her literal body.

Finally Bernini, as usual, shows staggering ability to tame stone into ripples of fabric. The virgin marble has lost its immaculate conception. The unpolished cloud looks superfluous, since Theresa's gown appears to suffice to allow her to levitate, if not impose on those gazing the swoon of Stendhal syndrome. A divine wind ripples the gown of the angel, who bears a tender expression of mischief. The statue's rumpled marble gown adds to the evocation of the spiritual earthquake that has overtaken Theresa.