Imagine a Pope, Gregory XIII, born in Bologna, who does not resign himself (let's exaggerate a bit!) to being far from his city and decides to have it painted over an entire wall, as if he could see it from above, in a blasphemous identification with God or in a more modest 'bird's-eye view.' ‘Seeing like God’ soon becomes a must for many episcopal seats, once again inhabited by their prelates, thanks to the dictates of the Council of Trent, recently concluded. The view, known as the Sala Bologna, dates back to 1575 and was painted by Lorenzo Sabatini and his assistants: the original is a fresco and is located in a room used by the Pope as an official dining room, but today is excluded from the tour itineraries of the Vatican Palace.
Why are we talking about it then? Because a large copy of it is finally visible again in the exhibition itinerary of Palazzo Pepoli, which has just been reopened to the public. In addition to the fact that no human eye could have seen Bologna in that way at the end of the 16th century, we find another big difference with the real city: namely the porticos are all in brickwork. In fact, we know from the chronicles and many official exhortations that at that time the presence of many wooden porticoes persisted, which exposed them to disastrous fires, made them less solid and gave the city a still medieval and modest appearance.
What has remained unchanged over the centuries, however, is the pleasure - for everyone now, not just for popes and kings - of looking at their city from above, in the somewhat voyeuristic illusion of penetrating with the gaze to capture in detail all its secrets.