Who can look at Bernini’s Ecstasy Of St Theresa (1644- 47) with an innocent eye? On a scalding Roman summer afternoon some years ago, a trio of sandalled nuns came into the dark church of Santa Maria della Vittoria and approached the Cornaro Chapel. I was sitting in one of the pews opposite, unsettled as usual by what I was seeing – intermittently illuminated rapture. Every so often a coin would clunk into the pay-for-light box, and the most astounding peep show in art would proceed: the saint’s head thrown back, her mouth, its upper lip drawn back, opened in a moan, heavy-lidded eyes half-closed, shoulders hunched forward in both recoil and craving. Beside her, a smiling seraph delicately uncovers Theresa’s breast to ease the path of his arrow.
more from Simon Schama at The Guardian here.