Naples, 31 May 2019
We were walking back to the hotel. There was this commotion in front of a government building (I assume so since it was guarded by heavily armed soldiers).
It seemed to be a typical Italian local festival. People carrying a shrine on a platform, bearing the image of a saint. Complete with a band. The main actors—the shrine bearers, the musicians and the dancers—wore wreaths of roses.
Yet, instead of the solemnity of a Catholic procession, it has the merriness of a Dionysean festival. The band (or should I say, mariachi?) played familiar tunes. Green Hornet, I think. People were dancing, clapping and singing in ecstatic abandon fueled by wine (and maybe other substances).
The revered Saint is a woman with many hands sitting on rose petals. Her image is modern and sensual. A syncretism of Guan Yin and Mary (or Kali and Magdalene). She does not shy away from nakedness, projecting sexuality. A profane woman by Catholic standards.
There were two young ladies who were the main dancers. One is red haired, she was wearing a normal modern day outfit—sleeveless black shirt and jeans—but with a metal armband that gave a touch of ancient divinity. The other is black haired but with blue eyes. She was wearing white dress typical of European pagan goddesses. Like in the paintings and sculptures of Greco-Roman Mythology.
When they danced, they were gorgeous. Their beauty is not of ‘lifestyle magazine commercial grade’. Not size zero and/or round American titties, but with imperfections that made them real. Their realness sent an aura of nymphs. To me, they seemed to be European ancient myth personified.
Madonna de Rose. A festival by fine art students. For me, a street performance represents Apollo’s desire to Daphne.