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

Knicks and Knacks

It's going to be a busy two weeks coming up: Laurent's father is with us until Thursday, Friday we head up to Pesaro for the Rossini Festival and a week Tuesday the movers come. We decided to get a head start on a bit of packing - the things we don't want the delicate hands of the packers touching - treasures, Laurent's army, porno valuable tapes and DVDs, that sort of thing.

So Laurent is carefully packing each one of his 250 odd soldiers in its box while I am trying to figure out if I really need the instruction book from my Casio calculator circa 1987 which is so loving preserved along with the warranty for my first computer and a how-to-book for my first digital camera.

Every time we move it becomes apparent that we have too much stuff and some weeding out should be done. And we do get rid of stuff - honestly! But it would be hard to part with something like this family of Polish devils.

On a visit to a crafts store in Warsaw I saw this devilish family perched in the middle of the pop-eyed, coked-out-looking wood carvings that normally pass for Polish folk art - there is something faintly disturbing about a garishly coloured Holy Family that look like they've just visited a neighbourhood crack house in Bethlehem. In contrast this little grouping seemed so loving and fun loving that I fell for them immediately.

The artist, a carver by the name of H. Tarka, obviously felt the same way as he was creating them. These are no stand-alone sour-faced religious figures - this group is in it together come rain or come shine, and frankly it looks like its shining for them big time. I particularly love the way they have their arms around each other and even their - you should excuse the expression - tails are intertwined. The family that strays together stays together!

17 agosto - San Giacinto