CHIAVARI,
Italy – Before I moved back to Liguria, Tatiana brought me a catalog from an exhibit of photographs
her father, Uliano Lucas, had in Bari a couple of years ago. Uliano Lucus is a
well known Italian photojournalist who made his name working as a free lance
photographer back in the years the Italians call, the years of lead, gli anni di
piombo. The collection of black and white photos in the exhibit were part of
his collection of photos taken in Puglia over the past 30 years.
We have that connection, Tatiana and I. She knows I love photographs, especially black and white photographs, and the first time she came to my apartment she was both delighted and surprised to see black and white photos hanging on my walls.
“Oh,
it’s just like in all the American films,” she said. It should be noted I
am the first American she and her husband Andrea ever met, and she wasn’t quite
sure what she was going to find in the apartment of the ‘Americana’. Italians
watch so many American movies their brains are full of American images they
have never seen in person, so it’s always a surprise when they come face to
face with the real deal and have that flash of recognition.
Italians
don’t hang photographs on their walls, not unless they are photographs of their
parents or their wedding or their children and grandchildren. Even then those
photographs are usually confined to the bedrooms, hallways or entryways. In
their living rooms they prefer paintings. Landscapes are good but big portraits
of relatives are better. And the more the merrier. Of everything.
The
first time I saw my apartment in Milan, the previous tenants were still living
there. There was so much big heavy furniture and so many paintings and
portraits of men with beards hanging on the walls I was visually overwhelmed.
It wasn’t until I moved in that I realized the woodwork and doors had all been
painted lavender, and there were in fact, two bathrooms.
I
understand that my decorating style is a bit too sparse for the Italians. Too
minimalistic. And horrors of horrors, I don’t have heavy drapes and curtains on
my living room or dining room windows, or on any of my windows or balcony doors
for that matter. I don’t even pull the tapperelle down at night – the tapperelle
being those heavy, shutters that pull down over windows and doors much like a
garage door does. They block out every smidgeon of light and air and it’s
obvious they were originally designed for a torture chamber. The Italians are
very polite about my lack of caution, but I can tell they think I’m a bit daft.
Is it possible I don’t know the gypsies are watching - and waiting - for just
the right moment to scale the building and rob me blind? Apparently not.
After
Italian journalist Beppe Severgnini spent a few years in Washington, DC he
wrote about his experiences in a book called ‘An Italian in America’. He talks
about not being able to relax in the living room of his rented house in
Georgetown because there were no tapperelle on the windows to pull down. Actually there were no blinds or
shutters even worthy of the name, and the curtains, all sheer and gossamer, served
no purpose other than decoration. He was completely horrified at the thought of
people walking by, being able to look in the windows and see him sitting on his
sofa watching TV.
Roba da matti,
as they say. It was just crazy. Not that he ever saw anyone actually looking in
his windows but, well you know, it’s the idea of the thing. And as for being
able to sleep without the total black out and prison-like atmosphere those
horizontal slats of the tapperelle on the windows provide, well he never
did adjust to that. Apparently he didn’t get a good night’s sleep until he
got back to Italy.
There
are always adjustments to be made when you live in a foreign country, but truth
be known after twenty plus years of living in Italy my list is shrinking.
Nonetheless Tatiana made me promise that her father’s photographs would not end
up on my walls, torn from the catalog and hung in some springtime redecorating
frenzy. It’s proving to be a lot harder a promise to keep than it was to make.
But I am trying.
The
Puglia photographs are particularly interesting to me. I’ve only been to Puglia
once, to Bari and Lecce, and I loved everything about it. Maybe because what I
found and what I thought I was going to find, were so completely
different - much like Tatiana's first reaction to an encounter with a real, in the flesh American.
My
ideas of Puglia, much like Tatiana's ideas of America, were formed long before I ever saw it, back when I still lived in Philadelphia. They came from my first Italian teacher, a nice woman from
Bari who always talked about her city as if it was a mile and half from hell.
For years I carried around the idea that Bari was dirty and dangerous, and a place
to avoid at all costs. And then, much to my chagrin, I was sent there to work
on a project for the Italian Ministry of Culture and Tourism.
As
it turned out, Bari was nothing at all like the city she had described. In fact
it was exactly the opposite. When I mentioned how nice the city was to a taxi
driver, she just smiled and said, “yes it is, isn’t it.” And as for Lecce, what I found was a city of such
extraordinary architecture and beauty that I was completely blown away.
Even
though the photos of Puglia in Uliano Lucas’ catalog are gritty and raw, and
taken long before I moved to Italy, they still bring back memories of my
experience there. And that’s exactly what photographs should do: grab a moment
and hold it still so we can go back and experience it time and time again. So
while it is difficult not to frame those Puglia pictures and look at them every
day, a promise is a promise. And I promised.
Photos: Uliano Lucas
I really enjoyed this, and the photos are just riveting. I'd not heard the term "anni di piombo" before but it doesn't exactly sound positive. What period, and why that term?
ReplyDeleteHi Elizabeth, the anni di piombo, or years of lead, was a terrible period during the 1970’s when Italian para-military terrorists, were bombing cities, assassinating people and kidnapping politicians. The name comes from the large number of bullets (lead) fired during that period. The most famous of the paramilitary groups was the Brigata Rossa, the Red Brigrade, who kidnapped and killed the then Prime Minister, Aldo Moro.
DeleteI just stumbled on this site and, surprise, my "family" comes from a suburb of Bari called Modugno. I have been to other areas of Italy but have not had the pleasure of going to Bari. I hope I do someday. Just curious about where your teacher taught...I am living in Philadelphia now but I am originally from Chicago. I was very good friends with an Italian professoressa by the name of Leda Gianuzzi Jaworski who taught at Rosemont College...wondering if had any contact with her while you were in Philadelphia?
ReplyDeleteJanet Kempf
Hi, sorry to say I never met Leda Gianuzzi Jaworski, but you should know that I have been in Italy for almost 25 years now. I am happy that you stumbled across my blog and I hope you'll come back again. I often write about Pugllia as it is one of my favorite places in Italy. I hope you realize your dream to visit there. Thanks for writing.
ReplyDelete