Marco's Presepe

Over the past few Christmastides I’ve posted entries about crèches – those traditional tableaux that retell the story that is the Christian origins of the Feast Days. In my travels I’ve always found a certain comforting familiarity in seeing the figures of Mary, Joseph and the Christ Child in places as far away as Saigon and as nearby as Sussex Drive. As the location changed so did the world surrounding those three figures – often touching reflecting the lives of the people and place.

In our own household there are three nativity scenes that have been bought in our travels and set up at various times in our households in Ottawa, Mexico, Cairo, Chicago, Warsaw, Aylmer and Roma. Limited surfaces in the new apartment have meant that again choices had to be made. Sadly the charming corn husk figurines, including a slightly wall-eyed wise man, of the crèche from New Mexico have been left in their box to be used another time. The carved szopka I bought in Warsaw – though not the traditional colourful to the point of gaudy scene – has found a spot on a credenza in the living room. And I was able to find a place for the exuberance of Emanuele Luzzati’s pop-up presepe – a Genovese’s take on the traditions of Napoli.  Which is probably where this whole obsession - and yes I admit it is an obsession - with crèches came into being.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York continues its tradition, begun in 1957, of displaying the incredible collection of Neapolitan presepe figures collected by the late Loretta Hines Howard.  Well over 200 18th century figures from her collection are displayed on and around the gigantic tree set in front of the enormous medieval choir screen.

I first became acquainted with the elaborate crèches of Napoli when, sometime in the early 70s,  the late lamented Gourmet Magazine featured the Christmas tree at the Metropolitan Museum in New York on is cover and in its lead article for Christmas. The elaborately robed angels watching over an even more elaborately costumed Mary and Joseph caught my, at the time decidedly baroque,  fancy. I recall immediately wanting to do an angel theme on the tree that year but that was long before angels became ubiquitous in Christmas stores so I settled for the somewhat less heaven-bound theme of toy soldiers.

A few years later my friend Naomi and I made a day trip to New York to see a matinee of Amedeus with Ian Mckellan, do a bit of shopping at Bloomies and see the tree.  Set against the imposing choir screen it proved as magical as I had imagined from the photo and word picture that Gourmet had painted.  It was only later that I discovered the story behind the elaborate display - how the humble presepe with its painted terra cotta figures that appeared in almost every Napoletano home had been elevated to a high art form by King Ferdinand in an effort to foster industry and the arts in his kingdom.

Though I saw many manger scenes during the four Christmases I spent in Italy I was never able to get to Napoli over the holidays so missed seeing the hundreds of public - and for the privileged, private - presepe on display throughout that most marvellous of cities.  And on the three occasions I did get there I never did make it to Via San Gregorio Armeno - the street of the presepe makers.  But that just might have been a good thing - I'm sure the temptation to recreate my own presepe Napoletano would have been far to strong.

Knowing my fondness for these little scenes and I'm sure knowing that I wouldn't find too many here in Ottawa my friend Marco thought he'd share his presepe with me, if only digitally.  In his apartment in Trastevere he has a traditional Napoletano nativity scene, given to him by his mother and father as a reminder of the traditions of his childhood.  Not the elaborate-gowned and bejewelled figures of that courtly New York tree nor the resin creations sold today but the simple painted terra cotta figures  that you would find in many homes near Piazza San Carlo or off Via Toledo in earlier times.  It is wonderful to share it with him if only at a distance - mille grazie caro.

But in common with all those nativity scenes I love so much - the crèches, szopka, presepe call them what you will - there is world outside the stable.  Recognizable figures people the little village - more Campania than Bethlehem - the shepherd boy, the bagpipe player, the fishwife and - perhaps my favourite - the sleeping shepherd who is missing the great events taking place nearby.  Perhaps that is what gives these scenes their charm -  that as a great event is taking place people are going about their business - some stopping, other continuing on with their daily routine and a few sleeping and missing the whole thing.  In other words - life!

A few other entries I've posted over the past few years on nativity scenes:

The Presepe Maker

A Procession of Presepe

A Polish Presepe

Borgo Nights

 

21 dicembre/December - San Pietro Canisio

Christmasy Things - Polish Presepe

Yes I know, Christmas is over and the Valentine's stuff is in the shops already - only one month to buy that special someone that special something - but here the spirit of Christmas or at least some of the trimmings last until February 2, Feast of the Presentation in the Temple. In the Church of England we called it Candlemas and it was the day on which all the candles to be used for the liturgical year were blessed, quite a lovely ritual. But I digress - as I sometimes do, back to the 39 or so days of Christmas.

Part of those trimmings are the Presepe or crèches that are displayed in churches throughout the city. Some are pretty cheesy - vulgar plaster statues encircled with flashing Christmas lights - but others are works of art. Entire villages are constructed - often with Bethleham resembling the area around the church they were created for, the Presepe at San Marcello has gas lamps much like the ones that once light the nearby Corso. Many date from the 19th century or earlier and figurines wear elaborate clothing meticulously aping the fashion of the period.

It stands to the reason that at the wonder that is the Pantheon (Chiesa di Santa Santa Maria dei Martiri)they would have an almost life size Presepe. It was created by art students from the Leon Wyczolkowski School of Fine Arts in Bydgoszcz (Poland as some thoughtful person added to the billboard.)


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Even if our friend Larry hadn't told me I would have known this was Polish immediately. The colourings are similar to those of the traditional Polish crèches and it has that rather disconcerting influence of Social Realism left over from the good old days of Communism that still echos in certain schools of Polish art. The exception is the Bambino - Jesus bears a striking resemblance to the slightly bloated figures of Botero. There may not have been room at the inn but there appears to have been food.

Also a little unusual are the figures on the right of the tableau - four "modern" saints coming to worship with the traditional Shepherds and Wise Men. I can only identify Saint Teresa the Little Flower of Christ and try as he might Larry couldn't put a name to the other three either.

13 gennaio - San Ilario di Poitiers

Epiphania I

... and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.

06 gennaio - La Epiphania

Borgo Nights

The first time Laurent and I came to Rome we stayed on the other side of the Tiber in the Borgo near St. Peter's. The area takes its name from the German Burg and was an area of hostels and hospices for pilgrims as far back as AD 725. Given the events of the day we were at a bit of a loss on Thursday evening - comfort food was in order but neither one of us felt like cooking. So a trip to the Borgo and that trattoria that I can never remember the name of for spaghetti alla carbonara seemed the solution. And since we would be in the area we thought we'd have a look-in at the (mildly?) controversial Presepe in Piazza San Pietro.

It was only 2000 but there were very few people in the Piazza and most were crowded around the Presepe by a rather phallic looking Christmas tree. Many were, like ourselves, snapping pictures. I wasn't disturbed that the Nativity had been relocated to Nazareth nor the placement of St Joseph at the centre of the scene. But I found that many of the carved figures - some Baroque pieces from the Church of Sant'Andrea delle Valle - are badly placed and the three room structure put a restricting box around the tableaux. Unfortunately the night setting on both our cameras was not working properly so many of the photos didn't turn out.

There's a slightly sinister atmosphere in the Borgo at night - particularly on the pedestrian streets where the cobblestones echo in the chilly air. And the flocks of black-suited and soutaned clergy scurrying through to winings, dinings and lodgings give it an almost conspiratorial atmosphere. Our trattoria was closed so we looked for one with clergy in it - always a good recommendation. The one we choose had a cosy interior, a pleasant waiter and respectable food - we had our carbonara, a few glasses of house white, almond tart and coffee and the world seemed a little warmer if not brighter.

We boarded a number 62 that takes us across the River, through town and almost home. The only other passenger on the idling bus was an elderly lady carting a backpack and two shopping bags. She spotted Laurent and immediately started talking to him. In the five or ten minutes before departure she told him all about her family - her mother was French, they were evacuated from Rome during the war, her sister went to America and after the war when her parents died they didn't have the money for proper headstones. She wasn't rambling she was reminiscing and here was a nice young man who was willing to listen. I've always marvelled at Laurent's ability to talk with strangers - I feel uncomfortable and awkward in those situations, its one of the reasons I hate diplomatic functions. She repeated the story of the headstones but it didn't seem like a plea of poverty, more a repeated regret for something not done right. Then at the first stop she gathered up her bags, waved arrivederci and got off. She seemed too well dressed to be a street person, she spoke Italian beautifully and she did not seem disturbed in any way. Just an old lady on her way home who had found someone to listen to her.

Or at least I hope she was on her way home; it had become colder and damper and so many people are homeless in this city. As we went through Centro I saw several people bundled up in blankets bedded down for the night in doorways. One couple were having a last cigarette, wrapped in their blankets in the doorway of a Ferrari dealership - he leaned down and whispered something to her and she laughed.

I don't pray often but Thursday night I mumbled a few words to who ever listens: a few words about Reesie, a few words for that old lady, those people sleeping in the doorways, that laughing couple and a few words of thanks for what I've had and have.

29 decembre - San Tommaso Beckett

The Traditions of Christmas - Crèches II

As I mentioned in my previous post we purchased a new crèche while we were living in Warsaw back in 2000 - a new crèche for the new millennium. There was a little shop, lodged in two small rooms in a cellar just off one of the main squares, filled with the work of Polish artisans - weaving, painting, pottery and wood carving. One day we saw a nativity set that took our breath away in its simplicity. In muted colours with figures, that though still showing the carver's knife, had a more natural look than the more traditional Polish figures around it. It was expensive - by the standards of the day - but we knew it was something we wanted to include in our Christmas traditions.

I found it an odd coincidence that in both our crèches the Mary figure is clothed in orange rather than the traditional white and blue. I can't find an iconographic justification or reason for this, so it may have just been one of those serendipitous choices by two artists twenty years and 8,000 kilometers apart. The figures are carved in various attitudes of awareness of this child in the manager. And following the European tradition the carver (we've lost the bill and of course didn't keep any notes so the only thing we know is his initials - CM) included tradespeople amongst the figures - an apple seller and an oil merchant. Unlike many of the Neapolitan figures they are not going about their business but have stopped to adore the new born infant and perhaps bringing offerings of their wares.

And there is a good chance that this is a miracle crèche: the figurines have been known to change position by themselves in the night. Or at least so it would seem if the "I don't know" response to questions like "Who moved the donkey?" are to be believed. Either that or there are two people in this house trying to stage manage the Nativity.

As a sidebar a bit of Vatican gossip: I have it from a close personal friend of the parties involved (as they say in the tabloids) that the outdoor Presepe in Piazza San Pietro may cause a bit of a stir when its unveiled on Christmas Eve. It's the handiwork of artisans in a small Alpine town near Trent and is nontraditional in several respects including the setting. We must get down to see it over the days after Christmas as there is no way we would even attempt to join the crowds on Christmas Eve.

19 decembre - Santa Fausta

The Traditions of Christmas - Crèches I

Tradition says that the first crèche was created by St. Francis when he used a straw manager set between an ox and a donkey as the alter for Christmas Eve Mass. It then became the custom in churches and monasteries to recreate the scene of Christ's birth. As time passed the tradition became more wide-spread and families began to create their own crèches or presepe: elaborate scenes that tended to reflect their own civilization more than Ancient Judea. In the case of aristocrats elaborate scenes in semi-precious stones, enamel, gold and silver and for poorer households painted clay or wood. The tradition spread throughout Europe and each country has their own version - I fell in love with the Provençal Santon on my first visit to the South of France in 1970.


The most popular presepe here in Rome are the two at Vatican City - the one above in Piazza San Pietro awaiting unveiling on Christmas Eve - though each of the 900-odd churches has its own and going from presepe to presepe is a post-Christmas pastime for many. The most elaborate presepe are in Naples and there's a street lined with shops selling everything needed to create your own - my friend Larry reported on his visit with Vin to the shops on Via San Gregorio Armeno to add figurines to their Nativity scene.

The first Nativity scene I recall having as a child was a colourful cardboard one. It came in a book and you cut out the figures and put it together - TAB A goes in SLOT C. After a few years it became frayed and as I recall a little unsteady - the ox had a bad habit of falling over on the baby Jesus if the table was jarred. I don't recall us ever getting another one. It was, after all, a rather un-Protestant tradition.

That first Christmas Laurent and I celebrated together in 1979 saw the beginnings of a few of our Christmas traditions. One was a crèche - Laurent had grown up in Québec where they were always part of Christmas. Thumbing through the Neiman-Marcus Pre-Christmas shopper (they had such great things in those days) I saw a very unusual Nativity scene: it was created at a South West aboriginal co-op and was almost entirely made of corn husks. There was our crèche.

I've always felt there was something endearing about the fact that the baby Jesus is wrapped in bindings the way an aboriginal child would have been and the lamb is made from pipe cleaners. The figures have no noses or mouths just two black dots for eyes. A wise men lost an eye during one of the many numerous packings and unpackings but a felt pen corrected that - though now he seems to have what I believe is called "a lazy eye." And another of the wise men seems to have trouble standing and tends to topple over - reminding me of that cardboard ox.

So for the next twenty-one years we packed and unpacked that crèche every Christmas - not matter where we lived. The first year I built a paper-mâché hillside for it - that got lost or destroyed in one of our moves. In Mexico City I bought a patch of moss from a street vendor to place it on - only to have hundreds of creepy crawlies of unknown species come running out the minute I put it on the floor under the tree. Other years it sat on a buffet or a side table. There was always a candle burning beside it over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - and the baby was never put in place until then.

Then in 2000 I saw the most beautiful carved crèche at an artisan shop in Warsaw (I hope to have some pictures of it tomorrow) and decided that would be our new crèche. But being sentimental I packed our corn husk Nativity away with all the other decorations that we no longer used - the various soldiers, musical instruments, minature children's books etc from theme trees I had done over the years. Imagine my surprise when that box showed up here in Rome - it hadn't gone into storage. A few of those decorations found their way onto the tree and once again this year we've unpacked our first Nativity scene and we'll find a place for it.

Looks like Christ will be in two stables at our house this year.

18 decembre - San Graziano