Carlo Scarpa. Tomba Brion
A photographic series on Carlo Scarpa's Brion funerary chapel, built in San Vito d'Altivole, Treviso (1969-78).
When I arrive at the Brion cemetery in San Vito d'Altivole, it’s raining thick.
The cemetery, built in 1969 – 1978, was commissioned by Onorina Brion Vega’s wife, due to the untimely death of her husband, leader of the famous Brion Vega company.
In the visit there were few people: a group of elderly gentlemen with a yellow umbrella and a boy from a suede jacket.
I go through the blinds propylaea, after which the two rings – windows without frame, the Scarpa' style and stilemic form, shows itself in all its power, allowing the free overlooking of the lawn and pointing out clearly how to continue the journey.
I head to the left, because of the Meditation Hall is currently closed.
From the beginning, the materiality of the complex is stronger: the exposed concrete homogeneity is interrupted only by the biological patina and degradation by water surfaces on which the buildings are suspended, increasing the stateliness of the place.
I head to the left and look the Arcosolium, an indoor-domed structure, containing the sarcophagi of the two lovers.
Back on my feet and through a path whose path is marked by steps bined, according to the human gait.
Scarpa is in the details: from the tread to the frame, from the septum to the pavement, from the molding to the decoration.
A continuity of matter that varies due to the repetition of simple shapes similar to each other but always different.
After a covered corridor, I arrive then to the chapel whose the square plan is rotated 45 degrees from the path that precedes it: the paneled entrance door works as a large zipper that opens and closes the chapel; I noticed then the holy water is in the shape of double ring.
The light, although is dim, invests space through the windows; to the right, the slightly raised altar is lit from above by a cone of light. I walked out through the plates suspended in the water and admire the change of decoration dentil of the prospectus.
It stops raining and the atmosphere is now muffled.
Back on my feet: the passage is on a human scale, bordered to my side of the perimeter wall bent 45 degrees inward, what I had seen coming from outside. I risk of falling down, shooting the asymmetric passage because of the portals, molded in turn.
Within the covered area, a concrete shed, where there are sarcophagi: it shows me an another point of view of the chapel, which his perimeter is half-surrounded by water.
Then I walk through the narrow space getting to the meadow where I look out towards the initial propylaea: I see one of the few visitors to the exit.
Shooting instantly, without thinking: the man passes right where the rings are joined, at the point where the architecture becomes poetry and composition.
I ride for the last time to the entrance, to the two joint rings: the boy from suede jacket is on the lawn, overlooking outside the perimeter wall of the cemetery, at the point of intersection between the two rings.
All is calm, serious, thoughtful.
Bye Carlo, see you soon.
