Why I hated the Sistine Chapel

I went to see one of the greatest pieces of art ever created, and it was awful.

The Conclave Fantasy

If I was a cardinal, I would drag the Conclave to elect a new Pope out as long as possible. It would be a shameless display of random voting, encouraging others to back no-hopers and questioning procedures.

This is because the Conclave takes place under the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, indisputably one of the greatest pieces of art ever created. 

Michelangelo spent more than four years, prime years of his life, up scaffolding and lying on his back to paint those frescoes. His eyesight was savaged by the strain and falling plaster, then he came back 23 years later to spend another six years painting The Last Judgment over the altar.

At Conclave, it is just the cardinals. They have the space and time to look up in wonderland, absorbing every tiny detail of what Michelangelo painted.

I’m not a cardinal, however. I will never attend Conclave. And, alas, I absolutely hated the Sistine Chapel.

The reality of seeing the Sistine Chapel

How you see something, it turns out, can be as important as what you see. I saw the Sistine Chapel at the end of a tour of the Vatican Museums. Perhaps crucially, I did so on a day when the Chapel was being closed to visitors early for Reasons.

The Vatican, while a huge tourist magnet, is a behemoth of a working organisation, and sometimes it doesn’t need to share its reasoning. If it wants to close the Sistine Chapel early one day, it can do just that.

In my case, this led to the tour being switched from mid-afternoon to lunchtime and being conducted in a state of poorly-concealed panic.

Give the Vatican Museums more time and respect

However, even without the early closure curveball, there is something deeply unsatisfying about treating the Vatican Museums as a palate-cleanser for the Sistine Chapel. They house an extraordinary collection of art and archaeological finds. 

Ideally, you have time to take in the 2nd Century mosaic floor of Ulysses and the Sirens. Or the statue regarded as the best ever depiction of Augustus Caesar, found in his wife’s villa. Or the hallway full of remarkably accurate 16th Century maps. Or the Ancient Greek sculpture of Apollo that Michelangelo studied and used a bit too obviously as inspiration.

You get the picture – the Vatican Museums are worthy of a day, unhurried and with a licence to hone in on whatever you find especially fascinating.

On a tour, trying to keep up with a man yabbering through your earphones, this is not possible. Even if the yabbering is occasionally interesting and informative. It’s not about the quality of the tour guide, it’s about the very nature of the experience.

The pre-Sistine Chapel funnel

The feeling of mildly irritated regret got supplanted by something altogether different on a stairway down towards the Sistine Chapel. Here, hordes of people, some travelling independently, some in other tour groups converged on a tight space.

This deeply inadequate, claustrophobic funnel created an unhappy, unnerved herd effect that wasn’t going to feel any better once inside the target.

Upon reaching the Sistine Chapel, the instant reaction was not one of wonder, enraptured by Michelangelo’s masterpiece. It was of horror at the sheer number of people crammed in.

The staff had clearly done this before, and on a regular basis. Everybody was put into groups and allocated a space in the chapel – effectively an enclosure. 

The ceiling and the Last Judgment, therefore, had to be seen packed in tight and above a sea of heads. And, for those towards the back of the chapel, the odd bar or masonry feature, too.

This leaves no opportunity to stroll and admire from different angles, or enter a zone of contemplation. It’s just panicky discomfort for a few minutes before being ushered out, feeling utterly robbed.

Improving the Sistine Chapel experience

I am aware that it doesn’t have to be quite that bad. There are (expensive) before and after hours tours available that head into the Sistine Chapel before the Vatican Museums open or after they close. In retrospect, and with a bigger budget, I’d have done this to avoid the Tube rush hour meets cattle auction experience.

There are probably other ways the Vatican can improve the tawdry encounter, too – notably selling tickets to the museums and chapel separately, while allocating pre-booked timeslots to enter the chapel. But it’s desperately sad that an experience that should be euphoric and elevating has become something awkward, angsty and unsettling.

Should you just skip the Sistine Chapel?

It would be sacrilegious to suggest skipping the Sistine Chapel if you’re in Rome, but this is a city with so much to see, and often while having a vastly better time. The next day, for example, I walked around the gargantuan Baths of Caracalla, awestruck by how the Roman Empire went full-on when it came to leisure centres, and I had it pretty much to myself.

There are also scores of churches and basilicas swathed in top tier art and decoration. Most don’t get very busy unless there’s a special event. 

You might not see better frescoes than Michelangelo’s, but you can most certainly have a better time if you leave the Sistine Chapel to the cardinals.