Archives

On Thursday afternoon I was lucky enough to help out in the British Institute Archives. After the success of the brilliant Forgotten Bookmarks exhibition in the library the team wanted to bring the exhibition to an online audience. To do this obviously required a lot of scanning to accurately reproduce the beautiful and delicate paper notes, letters, cards and clippings for the website, and I was more than happy to assist. 

After my morning Italian class I headed straight to the library. Here, behind a pair of white painted doors, I was introduced to the archives, a haven that contains years of history. Talking to Alison the Institute's Archivist I also discovered that the Institute holds an extensive collection of works by Edward Gordon Craig, a brilliant modernist theatre practitioner, which came as a rather wonderful surprise. It's incredible to think just how many creatives have been drawn to Florence over the years. Alison explained that Craig and his wife Dorothy Lees Neville lived in Florence and even founded a theatre magazine here called The Mask. After Craig left Italy, Dorothy continued on in Florence rescuing his archive from the Nazis before leaving his books and publications to the Institute. 

It was wonderful to be able to spend the day amidst such beautiful objects, hand-painted books, black and white photographs, and ornate letter-press fonts. Now I know about the Edward Gordon Craig collection I'm certain I'll be thinking of reasons to linger in the library archives more over the next month. Also watch out for the website write up of the Forgotten Bookmarks exhibition which will hopefully allow a closer look at the incredible documents found between the pages of the library books.

Fiesole

When the heat of Florence gets too much it's nice to be able to escape to the surrounding hills.  Walking up to Piazza San Marco if you wait and catch the number 7 bus for a mere 1 euro 20 (2.40 return) you'll be whisked up into the surrounding green of Fiesole in a matter of minutes (I've put what will hopefully be a useful photo of the timetable below). The small village is famous for its incredible Roman ruins and beautiful views over the city.

It's also famous for being at the heart of E.M. Forster's A Room with a View (one of the most famous books to be set in Florence) as it's near Fiesole where the protagonist Lucy Honeychurch is kissed by George Emerson in a poppy and barley field overlooking Florence. It's also mentioned in one of the first pieces of wisdom she's offered when she arrives in Florence by Mr. Beebe:

“Don’t neglect the country round,” his advice concluded. “The first fine afternoon drive up to Fiesole, and round by Settignano, or something of that sort.” 

I'm ashamed to think that I'm encouraging you to become the very people that Mr. Eager despises (who seems like the voice of Forster himself here):

Sometimes as I take tea in their beautiful grounds I hear, over the wall, the electric tram squealing up the new road with its loads of hot, dusty, unintelligent tourists who are going to ‘do’ Fiesole in an hour in order that they may say they have been there, and I think—think—I think how little they think what lies so near them.

However I have confidence you'll want to visit Fiesole again, and linger for far longer than an hour, and with the bus there's really no excuse to not head up to the hills once every now and then. I'm determined to explore further afield. Forster describes the countryside and ruins around Fiesole beautifully:

A hollow like a great amphitheatre, full of terraced steps and misty olives, now lay between them and the heights of Fiesole, and the road, still following its curve, was about to sweep on to a promontory which stood out in the plain.

These photos were taken from the small memorial garden on the way up the hill to the magical San Francesco Monastery. If this view is the 'hackneyed view' that is discarded by Mr. Eager then I'm certainly eager to see what the other hills around Florence hold in store! 

I am about to venture a suggestion. Would you and Miss Honeychurch be disposed to join me in a drive some day this week—a drive in the hills? We might go up by Fiesole and back by Settignano. There is a point on that road where we could get down and have an hour’s ramble on the hillside. The view thence of Florence is most beautiful—far better than the hackneyed view of Fiesole. 

For those attempting to take the bus here's the timetable:

SaveSaveSaveSave
SaveSave

In the Studio

Sadly Libri Bianchi by Lorenzo Perrone has now come to an end in the Harold Acton Library. However something I forgot to mention previously, during my first few days in Florence I was lucky enough to stumble upon Lorenzo's studio. It turns out I live just around the corner from where he creates his incredible white books in Oltrarno (south of the Arno). Walking into the Institute for my Italian lessons one day I glanced over the street to see his works peeking out from behind his studio door and thought they looked familiar. Gaining confidence I popped by head around the corner one day to say 'Buongiorno' and he was kind enough to let me take a few photos of him at work. It was incredible to watch and document the process of just how much work goes into creating his beautiful art objects and the variety of creations he's made. Don't miss them when they go on show in London later this year. 

SaveSave

Libri Bianchi di Lorenzo Perrone

Have you been to the Harold Acton Library recently? If you have you may have noticed the eerie but beautiful work of Lorenzo Perrone hanging from the shelves. Libri Bianchi or Shakespeare in White is a free exhibition that transforms books into glorious art objects, stripping them of words with white paint, while recreating them and allowing them to speak in a whole new way. Taking inspiration from Shakespeare each book is inspired by a certain play or line that Perrone then interpreted onto the pages of the books themselves. However the large totem of books you can see in the final picture is the exception. It's made up of 100 books, each book commemorating a year in celebration of the Institute's centenary, an incredible feat! 

As the exhibition is in its final week be sure to catch it before it heads over to London. For more information see the British Institute website here. 

Renaissance Tapestries and Textiles Diplomacy

In London earlier this year Professor Jeremy Boudreau, the director of the British Institute's History of Art department, gave the inaugural Harold Acton lecture at the Italian Embassy, on "Renaissance Tapestries and Textiles Diplomacy" examining the Medici family's collection of Italian Spalliere tapestries, which are currently on loan from the Palazzo Pitti Museum and on show in the Breakfast Room of the Italian Embassy. 

Lucky for us Professor Bourdeau was kind enough to give The British Institute a ‘backwards view’ of the talk from a Florentine perspective. He unravelled the important collection of rarely displayed tapestries for us, explaining their political and economic significance in the time of the Medicis, proving once and for all that there’s more to the tapestry tradition than just a pretty covering.

In 1545 Cosimo Medici set up the first examples of tapestry workshops using Flemish weavers as a ‘start up’ of sorts to teach their trade to Florentine artists. Cosimo was cunning, rather than simply importing the skill of foreign hands he invested the time and the energy to ensure the creation of a ‘local’ art form by providing the basis for trade to be adopted and artisans to learn and practice their skills within the city. 

Not only this but Cosimo ensured motivation for his artisans, establishing two rival workshops at the same time. One was led by Jan Roost and the other by Nicolas Karcher, the first patronised by the Duke of Ferrara and the second by the Duke of Mantova. The healthy competition of the two workshops within the city is undoubtedly one of the reasons they tirelessly produced some of the most spectacular tapestries we have to date. 

The State dining room with the Medicean Spalliere Tapestries. Image by Federico Zonno.

Bourdeau’s keen academic eye is inspiring. He takes us through overarching themes, explaining the traditional techniques of tapestries and the scenes of grotesques, the cherubs, garlands and festoons of flowers, species of birds, fish and other animals, the fantastical creatures intertwined with luscious foliage as well as the Spalliere (Tuscan 15th and early 16th century painted wall panels and hangings) of the time. He also draws our attention to minute details on the tapestries that reveal their changing identity in the Florentine realm, inscriptions such as ‘FATTO – IN - FIORENZA’, an early 'Made in Florence' or ‘Made in Italy’ if you will. Another example that crops up is SPQF a play on SPQR, the initialism used by the Roman Senate and People, small but potent symbols of the growing pride felt in Florence for their adopted Flemish art.

Yet context with these artworks is key and Bourdeau made sure to guide us into the two rooms in the Palazzo Vecchio that the site-specific tapestries were originally designed for, Sala dei Dugento and the Sala dell’Udienza. The wall coverings truly clothe the rooms, leaving not a spot untouched by gold and vivid colours from floor to ceiling. Only last year saw the newly restored Sala dei Dugento and its vivid depictions of Joseph ‘the prince of dreams’ open to the public for a special exhibition. We can only hope after its success that more such public reunions of the tapestries with their settings will follow. 

The Sistine Chapel and Tapestries

When looking at the elaborate weavings it's easy to realise how Florence was being reinvented by the Medici. Under Cosimo it was rapidly becoming a centre for tapestry production but the artwork was also introducing a new vocabulary for Renaissance paintings from the ‘cartoons’ the Flemish weavers used as drafts to transform into tapestries. In fact many ‘cartoons’ themselves stand alone now as artworks recognised in their own right (several in London’s V&A museum). 

Tapestries were a means of displaying a story as well as boasting about one’s wealth. In Rome Boudreau highlighted perhaps the most famous example of the Sistine Chapel. Here tapestries were originally paired with the paintings (as if they weren’t decorative enough!) and designed to hang under the ornate scenes on the walls depicting Raphael’s Acts of the Apostles (1515-1520) woven in silk and wool with silver-gilt threads. It seems absurd that another layer of opulence could be added to such a treasure chest of a Chapel, yet excess seems to have been all part of the game.

Jan Rost and Nicolas Karcher, Spalliere with grotesques based on cartoons by Bachiacca (1545), Silk, gold, silver and wool tapestry, Italian Embassy London

Boudreau amusingly recalled the comments of the Bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, who was shocked after visiting the Pontiff exiled in Orvieto declaring that “Before reaching his [Pope Clement VII] chamber we passed three chambers all naked and unhanged.” When even the Pope lacked the grandeur of ‘clothed’ walls, one knew something was up. 

Intriguingly although based on Italian cartoons and designs many tapestries of the time were still produced in Brussels and outside of Italy. It was mainly through the persistence of Cosimo that Italian weavers were eventually able to take over from their original Flemish masters. 

One of the most interesting moments of the evening came towards the end of the talk where Boudreau attempted to put the young Cosimo’s rule in context with the other leaders of the time. He jokingly observed how he must have had a rather bad ‘inferiority complex’, flashing up images of Henry VIII, Charles V, Paul III and Frances I, it’s easy to see why. Meeting and surpassing the expectations of political visitors was paramount, dazzling, distracting and even intimidating guests with the beauty of ornate tapestries was all part and parcel of playing the part. 

Although we weren’t able to head down to the State dining room to observe the tapestries first hand as the original audience at the Italian embassy were after the talk, the lecture was still a truly immersive experience. Julia Race, the Institute’s director, described the experience as akin to walking with Bourdeau through the Palazzo Vecchio, and it’s true – he led us by the hand.

SaveSave

Giardino Bardini

Want the Boboli gardens without the queues? You may be in luck. Ignored, forgotten, or simply unknown to many, when you buy a ticket for the Boboli gardens you also gain access to another green oasis in the city a mere five minutes walk away. The beautiful, and far more elusive sanctuary of Villa Bardini and its ornate gardens holds a famous flight of baroque steps, fringed with irises, delicate mosaiced archways, and flowerbeds. I'd recommend a visit in a heartbeat. 

The famous stairs ascend to a beautiful viewing platform and tea room, where you can buy a refreshing drink and sweet pastries, enjoying both with expansive views of Florence. Meandering through the garden you can find areas dedicated to medicinal plants, a 'fountain of the dragon', replica English woods and a medieval 'farming area' complete with hillside terraces planted with olive trees. The gardens aren't exactly a hidden gem, but they're certainly a welcome alternative to the classic tourist trail. There are also some excellent lemon trees round the back of the Villa with gorgeous views out over the city. If you're in the area, it's definitely worth the climb up the hill, and tackling all those steps. 

Forgotten Bookmarks

Everywhere I turn in Florence at the moment I seem to stumble upon art exhibitions. Whether in churches, piazzas, small side-streets or even the opening corridor of the British Institute’s Harold Acton Library there always seems to be something beautiful waiting to be seen.

The current exhibition that welcomes visitors to the library in the small chequered-floored corridor looks at the forgotten bookmarks that have been found over the years in the books on the library shelves. The glass cases in the entrance hall house everything from letters and newspaper cuttings to museum tickets and illustrations. While looking through the original Baedeker guide used in the Merchant Ivory film of A Room with a View (whose anniversary is coming up at the end of this year) the British Institute's Director Julia Race discovered an old museum entry ticket in the pages, and so the exhibition was born. 

As well as personal notes and letters – 'What a beautiful lot of wine!' one begins – there's even a letter from Ava Levenson, a novelist and friend of Oscar Wilde, about her upcoming novel Tenderhooks. It's incredible to see the forgotten fragments of past lives that live on in the books we read, and especially those that have passed through the haven that is the Harold Acton library in the busy centre of Florence. I've often thought of a library as a crowd of voices, each book another thought, another idea, another story, just waiting to be discovered. In this exhibition the objects on display only enhance this feeling.

Libraries are communal spaces, and reading is often said to be a solitary activity, browsing the library books and realising how many have done so before me and left their small but traceable marks is somehow comforting. While studying the ornate map of Florence that was found folded up, I can't help but wonder if I've accidentally left anything between the pages of a book that might be found by an unsuspecting stranger many years from now. I wonder what my 'Forgotten Bookmark' will be . . .

An Englishman in New York

Director of the British Institute of Florence Julia Race & Artist Bill Jacklin 

This week's Culture Talk saw British Artist Bill Jacklin take to the floor with an immersive and intimate survey of his works from New York. Jacklin left London in 1985, after studying Graphics at Walthamstow and painting at the Royal College of Art and moved permanently to the Big Apple, whose energy attracted him. Here he discovered Manhattan had not really been painted after WWII, and many of his first subjects came from scenes he witnessed on a daily basis that remained common but neglected by the artistic community. 

As a draughtsman Jacklin responds directly to stimuli, to images he encounters in real life, many sketches (often as many as 40/50 studies) form the basis for a painting and the final composition that piece will take. He began by looking from the windows of his apartment on 6th Avenue, and his second floor studio in the famous Meat Market, finding renaissance crucifixion scenes in the hanging produce brought in and out by the butchers each day. 

Light is a fascination for Jacklin: ‘light and the effect of light on surfaces’. It’s an interest that enlivens what would normally be mundane scenes; even in ‘Sandwich Eaters’ he finds beauty, a strange geometry and light that frames ordinary figures in vividly new perspectives. Double images are also a feature of his work, a trait developed from his love of film and his continuous drafts, where occasionally he will simply paint a scene, only to look again a moment later and paint the same subject again as it has changed. By paralleling the camera Jacklin emphasizes the mystical qualities of paint, his subjects capture the essence of things, the refracting light of fireworks in the sky, the subtle reflections of raindrops as they fall. His skill as a speedy draughtsman also allowed him unprecedented access to the city; his photographic eye permitted entry to Police station waiting rooms and other contested spaces where cameras were unable to enter. 

Despite wandering the entire city Jacklin found himself drawn back to certain places again and again. He went up to 87th avenue to replicate the crowds walking down by the Rockefeller centre, 42nd Street ‘when it wasn’t Disneyland’, Grand Central Station – looking back he laughs realising he’s only really painted a few streets of New York. One of these recurring subjects is skaters, but also the chess players in Washington Square which in Jacklin’s eyes becomes a triptych, figures represented in double as they move from one frame to another. A ‘sister painting’ depicts the same place at night with a woman invading the scene as she runs after her stolen bag. 

Turner is a clear influence, as is Whistler, the crowds of the city become something mystical in Jacklin’s eyes, a surging force where ‘the movement of the crowds are forming my music, my muse’. The rhythms of a scene replicate themselves in paint, Washington square and the skaters are portrayed as ‘swirling and whirling’, ‘I'm a sucker for that subject’ he confesses, the motion of bodies a means of portraying the intimate relationships between people as they’re played out upon the ice. 

'I never paint anything if I haven't been there. I have to have a relationship. I paint about Relationships.' After all 'making a drawing is making a mark'. For Jacklin the process of creation is practically primal: 'I'm creating my own language, the painting comes out of the making of a mark'.  Listening to him talk about his process is captivating: ‘The paint informs the subject it’s not the other way around’. 

He works large but often starts out small, showing us the pastel studies for a painting that only measures 12 inches but turned into 12 feet by its completion, almost it seems by accident: ‘you do it and then you've done it’. Moving through different sizes, moving through different modes of interpretation and presentation, these transformations of the work become a means of articulation, enabling Jacklin to ‘work through who I am’. 

Jacklin is quick to note at the start of his talk the strangeness of having an Englishman talk about his New York art in a city as culturally rich as Florence. The last few slides he shows us are the few pieces he has completed in the past of Florence with the rich reflections and colours of the dying sun shifting in a mirage of the Arno. Talking about the crowds milling in Piazza del Republica it’s hard not to wish that perhaps Jacklin might make Florence the next city he encounters in paint. ‘I guess that’s the difference between Florence and New York’ he ponders when looking back at his New York work, ‘things change much faster, a building comes up and comes down.’ ‘I paint about change’.

When asked how he knows his work is finished he notes that there’s a running joke that it’s only ‘when the truck comes up’ to collect it. His best work so far? ‘What I’m going to do next’. Let's hope Florence might see some more of Jacklin in the years to come.