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The
Orders of Scaffolding Scaffolding
is one of the earliest building materials known to Man
— and one of the most consistently popular across the eons, as prevalent
in Baroque church construction as in ancient Greek temples.
As with most building techniques, scaffolding is divided by the academics into three classical orders: Doric (plain), Ionic (with green netting) and Corinthian (with green netting and shiny brass fittings). Some of the greatest scaffolding craftsmen of the past were so skilled that there seems to be no visible means of access to their scaffolded structures. Even decades of concerted effort by seasoned tourists have been unable to find a chink in the scaffold armor of Europe's greatest buildings. In fact, the only individuals who can readily pierce the magical Green Netting are the mysterious, squat, paint-bespattered men known only as the Keepers of the Scaffold. These inscrutable and sprightly men — inexplicably all named Mario — are active only in the wee hours surrounding the dawn. Their sacred charge is to clamber out to opposite corners of the scaffolding network and then call out to each other loudly and in a sing-song manner by name (O-Mario!), thereby strengthening the mystical "chiuso per restauro" aura of the building. Then there is the interior scaffolding, a cousin to the exterior scaffold, but more properly considered an extension of fresco rather than architecture. Interior scaffolding comes in the following sizes: (1) Filling up nave, (2) Filling up apse, or (3) Filling up whole damn church. It is of a rather more recent vintage; more of a Renaissance adaptation of this ancient and venerable building material. When used interiorly, the scaffold's primary purpose would seem to be to engage the historical interest of the tourist. The concept, you see, is to give you an idea of what the Sistine Chapel looked like while Michelangelo was actually painting it, which I'm we all can agree is infinitely more interesting than actually getting to look at the finished work itself. But for now, I must turn my thoughts away from scaffolding, Marios, and Italy's quirky Office of the Superintendent for Ancient and Artistic Sites (Motto: Closed for Restoration). I must instead think on sleep, and so do I close this missive. I do hope it finds you hale, happy, and above all, scaffold-free. Copyright © 1998 by Reid Bramblett. All rights reserved. |
