In the Shadow of the Volcano

Photo essay from a week in Naples

The day before we travelled to Naples, I learned that my pal Jim McChesney had died. Jim was a fellow member of the Arlington Baths, and we’d often chat in the sauna after he emerged from twenty-odd lengths of the “pond”. Despite his age, he was vigorous and sharp, regaling us with stories of his years at the newspapers. He was also a reader of this newsletter, never missing a chance to have a heated exchange about my latest missive.¹ This post is dedicated to Jim.

I love this portrait of Jim made by our mutual friend, Axl Kasper

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When people asked why I wanted to visit Naples, I told them it was to see a volcano. Specifically, I wanted to look down at the roiling magma and imagine how the philosopher Empedocles felt before he jumped into Etna in an attempt to become a God.

Alas, since Vesuvius has been dormant since 1944, all we saw was gravel and mist. It’s still impressive, though, not least because of what it does to the three million who live in its shadow.

Vesuvius from Herculaneum

The sprawl of Naples below Mount Vesuvius

As well as the volcano, Neapolitans can observe catacombs beneath churches and the cowering skeletons displayed in nearby Pompeii and Herculaneum. Together, these things seem to have instilled a devil-may-care nihilism.

Skeletons sheltering in Herculaneum’s port

The moped riders grudgingly wear helmets, but always with the strap hanging loose, as they weave through pedestrians on alleyways covered in graffiti. Coming from Glasgow, I am used to graffiti, but never quite so dense as in Naples. With the threat of destruction so close, why wouldn’t you be nihilistic?

The old University, covered in graffiti

The hero of Naples is Diego Maradona, the Argentine footballer whose goals helped Napoli win the league in the eighties. His face is everywhere. But more than that, one senses the spirit of abandon that, thanks to cocaine and other addictions, led to his early death.

San Gennaro by the muralist Jorit on a busy street in the old town

The Catacombs of San Gaudioso

A collection of near-identical gentlemen hanging out in a piazza

A woman gives directions to a car on the narrow streets

The train back from Caserta

The tunnel down to the beach in Sorrento

Fortunately, this woman—who I thought was playing with her grandson—was fine.

We took a day trip to Sorrento and chanced upon a exhibition/sale of street photography by Raffaele Celentano. Upon leaving, primed to take cute photos, I saw what I thought was a woman playing with her grandson. At least, I thought she was playing. It turned out she had collapsed. Fortunately, once she had some water, she was soon well.

An attempt at photojournalism after army officers defend a man who was beaten up for attacking a supermarket worker

Memento mori in Pompeii

Footprints of tourists in Pompeii

Vesuvius from Sorrento

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For further reflections on the week, read Laura Gonzalez’s poetic journal, What the volcano told us.

1. Jim was also a painter and shared links to Edgar Wind’s Reith Lectures with me. It was great to finally see Jim’s paintings at a celebration of his life on 20th September.