Artsmart Roundtable: Ceilings and the Art of Looking Up

Looking up is uncomfortable, as any visitor to the Sistine Chapel can attest. (Heck, even Michelangelo complained about it when he had to paint the thing.) Try it. Tilt your head back and look at the ceiling for awhile. It hurts after awhile and as humans, we avoid things that cause discomfort.

Sometimes we are motivated to look up. Whether it's the sun in the sky or a well-designed building, something may encourage us to draw our eyes upwards. More often than not, especially when we travel, we forget to look above us. We're more concerned with what's in front and or what's coming from behind. (Or glued to our damn cell phones.) We're barraged with information, and sometimes discerning where we are is challenging enough. We often forget to peer up and see what's hovering just above us.

Artists and architects, however, have been inventing reasons for us to look up for centuries. Here are a few ceilings (both real and virtual) that prove that forgetting to look up is a bad idea.

San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane is one of many tiny churches you pass by in Rome. Upon entry it's a small, white space that looks a lot like any other church you may have already have seen.

But, if you're not attending services or praying to the heavens, you won't necessarily think to look up right away. You should, however, as the geometric patterns above are things of beauty and wonder.

It's hard to miss these pyramids designed by I.M. Pei at the Louvre, in fact it's probably one of the most cliché views of the museum in modern day. After you spend time photographing from the outside, don't forget to look up once you've walked inside. Otherwise, you'll miss this.

With the sky as your ceiling, the Berlin Holocaust Memorial provides tunnels of concrete slabs that disorient and obscure your vision.

But once deep inside the labyrinth (as you can see in the top photo) the forms create a feeling of loss and despair that only makes sense with the sky overhead.

Libraries are full of books and silence, but also elaborate ceilings. Look up the next time you're in the New York Public Library, and you'll see what I mean.

Historic homes, particularly ones from the 18th and 19th centuries are rife with ornate details. If a surface could be decorated, then so it was. Architect Robert Adam created elaborate ceiling designs based on ancient Roman interiors, including this estate outside of London, Osterley Park.

These are just a sampling of skyward-worthy glances. What ones have you found in your travels? I'd love to hear in the comments.