Baroque arches over a street, I came onto a royal palace at sunset. I figured it was the king’s based on its grandeur and splendor, a Spanish king, probably, so Javier Bardem. Funny enough, when I see this actor in the windows of my mind, I typically come to find out later, when I look it up, that it was indeed a Spanish establishment. And in his eyes, his gait, the complex interior world of a Spanish king trying to rule Naples comes to the forefront of my consciousness, communicated simply, poignantly…ruling Naples is next to impossible, truly. I can only imagine. Royal families are fun to think about. Charles of Spain was crowned king of Naples and Sicily at 18 years old in the 18th century, so Timothy Chalamet, since he was, no, the crown prince at this age? Thus, a star-studded cast surrounds this palace over the years: Mozart even stayed here at 14 years old. Murat took over, put in French furniture, and Ferdinand built an opera house. Charles left the palace to his son Ferdinand, the royal I’m most attracted to for unknown reasons.
Arches framed a setting sky in curves: purple, just as majestic as the manmade architecture that opened to a sweeping balcony overlooking a botanical garden with the sea in the distance. The royal palace wasn’t large enough to house the whole court, so they built royal residences, so I’ll try and get inside some of these palaces turned apartments though my roommate said that they’ve all been renovated more or less. I’m sure there’s some old family or someone with a sweet set-up. Portici was a wealthy city populated with noble families, and it still quite vif, lively, and I’m always thinking about history, legacy, the validity of a foundation. It was utterly destroyed by Vesuvius — wiped clean and then rebuilt. I suppose that’s how I feel.
The past, arriving at the museum, is still here. We preserve it, we destroy it, but we’re supposed to keep it, but then we’re not bound to it. The world is somewhat illusory, in that, how it works isn’t really how it works. There’s a higher consciousness that one can tap into, a deeper truer way of navigating. The world is filled with avenues outside the realm of logic, even sense. Doors can open anywhere. There are doors as we can see across the world that open and close all the time — many. Through an archway, the palace closing, the enchanted hour to go is dusk — with the orbs of light floating in an optical illusion with windows glowing blue. It looks Spanish. It doesn’t look Italian, I think. The walls are an architectural illusion, but it does serve a function, even in impressing onlookers.
I’m trying to appreciate where I’m at as if this is a lesson while deciding whether or not I want to be here.
Cool space, right? Optical illusions.