Today I had one of those moments. I cried of joy while I was holding a wide smile on my face.
When I was 17 years old I fell in love with an image. It was a picture inside my History of Art book from 3rd year of high school, part of the “Byzantin Art” lesson and it was surrounded by all this theory about the originality of the building mixing a basilical ground and a round, about the semi spherical dome and the pendentives that support the weight and a lot of other technical aspects of art and architecture.
But when I saw the image of the interior I just wanted to be there and feel the magnificence of it, feeling my insignificance inside that wonder. As it happens with love, you feel an energy in one moment, a connexion, a deep understanding.
And then I went to a dark moment as the the syllabus went on with the Moorish Art in Spain and the Romanesque style. But then, as life, I moved on when the Gothic Art made his elegant appearance in the artistic scene and decided that my favorite artistic period in architecture was Gothic. And so, as in life, I forgot about that special basilica, church, mosquee., that amazing mixture and superposition of cultures coexisting together.
However, when today I went inside the basilica, now turned wisely into a museum mainly to avoid the frictions between both religions, the Muslim and the Catholic, claiming its ownership, all the emotions came back.
Because what happen with love is that, as an energy, never disappears, it might be channeled into other paths but is always there, in some part of the brain and the heart. So when I crossed the door to go into the building all the memories of the emotions provoked by looking that image came vivid again. First came that reassuring sensation of pettiness that puts you in your place and makes you realize that no problem or disappointment is important enough if you put it inside the bigger context. And then I felt in peace. I felt light.
The crush I experienced around fifteen years ago was as intense and strong as if it were the day after. Overwhelmed by the darkness and the exceptional play of lights that makes the place surreal. The height of the dome that seems to be floating. The husked paintings showing the wisdom of the age.
And there, under the dome, conquered by the beauty and significance of the place, the emotions, the realization of having a dream come true, my eyes welled up with tears. There was joy, there was love, there was a bliss