(in the Cerasi Chapel of the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo)
Paul lies sprawled beneath his horse,
arms opened, hands extended, upraised,
creating a cup for his spilled head.
His face is half-hidden, turned aside.
His rich red robe is crumpled under him.
His helmet has rolled off to one side.
Caravaggio knew well what the texts
tell: that Saul became Paul, regained
his sight and then began to write letters
to the world. But in this small chapel
in central Rome, he’s stopped the story
here—leaving us to fill the future in.
Why Can’t Conservatives Create Art?
Modern conservatives recognize their duty to reverse the devastation wrought by nearly a century of progressive cultural…
Announcing Portico: A New Literary Quarterly
First Things is pleased to announce the publication of its new print literary quarterly, Portico, starting in…
Antoni Gaudí’s Icon of the Universe
This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the death of Antoni Gaudí, the great medievalist-modernist architect from…