On the hottest summer day,
in traffic, still jet-lagged, I
made my way. Stuck behind what appeared to be
fascist-era, low commercial
buildings, across the street
from the old New Roman
produce market, this early twentieth century power
plant, machinery still in situ,
is a visual powerhouse.
Imagine circa Jules Verne
gadgetry as the backdrop
for one alluring ancient Roman sculpture after another:
many simultaneously pleasing, disturbing and sensual. Imagine enormous Diesel engines in juxtaposition
to 400 sculptures. Keep an
eye out for an early imperial Esquiline Venus hiding
behind steam pipes and a
mosaic floor-hunting scene
beside. There is a representative of ubiquitous Antinous
set against an industrial-age
switch board and a flimsilydressed Aphrodite by the
wood-burning kiln.
HYLAND
