“Love is a wonderful flower, but it is necessary to have the courage to go in search of it on the edge of a horrible precipice,” wrote Stendhal, who felt dizzy and heart racing while visiting the basilica of Santa Croce in Florence in 1817. The French writer was a master of psychological analysis and his sentences are characterized by a deep loving intensity and passion.
We art lovers are passionate about life, and to paraphrase again the French writer “with passions one is never bored, without them one becomes idiotic”.
At the Poldi Pezzoli House Museum in Milan I suffered from the Stendhal syndrome, that occurs when contemplating works of art or architecture of extreme beauty, in enclosed spaces or with a large accumulation of works.
Boticelli, Pollaiolo, Mantegna, disciples of Leonardo da Vinci, sculptures, refined tableware, jewelry..., took me to a world that has disappeared where some people of noble origin lived surrounded by art. Private houses turned into museums, which today we can all enjoy.
Contemplating so much art in such a short time and in an enclosed place, I suffered a transient psychosomatic disorder with symptoms such as tachycardia and confusion in the face of the overload of artistic beauty.
As I write these lines -as a form of therapy- my eyelids are drooping, as I have hardly slept a wink all night. The works of art assaulted my mind and prevented me from resting, between sleep and wakefulness. The symptoms originate from the intense emotion and aesthetic impact that overwhelmed me. This is a crisis that usually disappears when I move away from the artwork and rest.
Art fosters reflection, creativity and mental health. This syndrome would be like collateral damage to those passionate hearts convinced that art is a bridge to God, sum beauty.
