The churches and cathedrals of Italy's renaissance stir the senses from the moment the threshold is crossed. The sheer volume of the space, the interweaving of textures, the silence, the smells, the artificial light mixing with the diffused daylight, the local patrons, the tourists, the constant renovation; all compete for attention. But for me, the focus has always been the art and the confessionals: the art provokes fantasies as the confessionals provoke guilt. Policing pleasure pays homage to this dichotomy.
