Caldarola's cardinals

La Stanza del Paradiso (the Paradise Room) is aptly named – it’s an exquisite jewel of ornate, animated frescoes that supplant reality with an atmosphere of rich colour and fabled history. Giovanni Evangelista Pallotta used to meditate here in the palazzo he built in the 1500s. Such surrounds cannot have been anything less than inspirational, and it must have been hard to drag himself away.

But drag himself away he did, to the prelate courts of Rome, where he became a cardinal in 1587 under Pope Sixtus V. And thus started a family legacy, with first his nephew and then two subsequent descendants reaching the rank of cardinal over a period lasting until 1834. Between them, the Pallotta cardinals participated in the election of 12 popes, held sway over prominent symbols of the Catholic faith including St. Peter’s and Loreto, and rubbed shoulders with royalty, intellectuals, and the artistic talents of their day. Today their legacy prevails through the grand edifices that dominate Caldarola – il Castello Pallotta (Pallotta Castle) and il Palazzo dei Cardinali Pallotta (Palace of the Pallotta Cardinals).

It’s in the latter that one of Le Marche’s most prominent 2009 art exhibitions is being held – Le Stanze del Cardinale (The Rooms of the Cardinal), a study in Baroque magnificence featuringCaravaggio, Guido Reni, Guercino, and Mattia Preti. The collection was the property of the second Pallotta prelate, Giovanni Battista Maria (nephew of Giovanni Evangelista), who was appointed cardinal in 1631 under Pope Urban VIII.

Having studied the arts and humanities in Perugia, Giovanni Battista entered the Pontifical Roman Seminary where he studied philosophy and law. As Pope Urban VIII’s representative, he travelled to Portugal and Austria, and was made legate of the newly-acquired papal state of Ferrara in 1631. Being in such an elevated position in the church afforded him the opportunity of commissioning and acquiring an impressive collection from the leading artists of the time, which he proudly displayed to luminaries who stopped over in Caldarola on their pilgrimages between Rome and Loreto. Among them were Queen Christina of Sweden and Prince Casimir of Poland.

However, his pastime had its costs, particularly in a 17th-century Italy that was experiencing severe economic struggles and general decline – when he died in 1668, the paintings had to be sold to settle his debts. As a result of the dispersion of his collection, the exhibition was compiled by studying the cardinal’s inventories, tracking down each painting, and securing loans from a variety of public institutions and private collections, including the Rome’s Borghese Gallery, the National Gallery of Ancient Art, and the Doria Pamphilj Gallery; Florence’s Palazzo Pitti; the National Art Gallery of Bologna; the National Gallery of Capodimonte in Naples; and Genoa’s Palazzo Rosso. Where the original work could not be traced, another by the same artist of a similar subject has replaced it.

Amongst the more than 60 works on display is Guercino’s (so named because he was crosseyed) grand Expulsion of the Merchants from the Temple – which was restored specially for this exhibit, along with several other works; several paintings inspired by Jerusalem Delivered, Torquato Tasso’s 16th century epic – Giovanni Evangelista was his official “protector”; and several that reveal Giovanni Battista’s appreciation of the female form – it seems that 17th century Italy did not frown on prelates admiring feminine nudity.

This is truly one of the pre-eminent events on the Italian art calendar, and should not be missed. Not only can you appreciate some of the finest Baroque art around, you can travel through Giovanni Evangelista’s paradise as you do so …

Le Stanze del Cardinale
Palazzo dei Cardinali Pallotta, Caldarola
May 23 – Nov 12, 2009
www.lestanzedelcardinale.it

Stepping back into the middle ages

Even in shorts and a T-shirt, I was still sweltering, regularly looking for a break from the sun under one of the piazza's arched arcades. So how it was for the procession participants in their heavy medieval costumes, I can't imagine. To their credit, none of them showed any discomfort, and indeed few of them appeared to be perspiring.

Last weekend Camerino opened the medieval pageant season in our neck of the woods with their Corsa alla Spada e Palio, a 10-day journey back to the days of pomp and ceremony when the powerful Da Varano family ruled their papal dukedom for over 200 years. The festival dates back to the early 13th century, when it was decided to introduce pageantry and friendly but prestigious community competition into the normally solemn remembrance of the town’s patron saint, Venanzio.

The medieval festival was resurrected in 1982, keeping the centuries-old traditions largely intact. At the heart of the festivities is a sumptuous procession involving the three divisions (terzieri) of the town – Muralto, Sossanta, and Mezzo – dressed in full medieval regalia, who on May 17 converge from their various quarters on to the San Venanzio basilica for an evocative candle ceremony. The saint was persecuted for his faith and subjected to a succession of tortures, including whipping, being hanged from his feet, having his jaw broken, and being thrown to the lions. According to historical legend, he miraculously emerged from each of them unharmed, giving his faith credence and prompting the conversion of many pagans to Christianity. He was finally martyred during the reign of Emperor Decio, when in May 251 AD he was beheaded with 10 other Christians, and buried outside the town walls.

During the 10 days of festivities, the town’s three divisions take part in a series of competitions, with the main event being the Corsa alla Spada (a foot race for the esteemed sword). There is also archery, flag waving, drumming, and a variety of other musical and entertainment events.

Food naturally also plays a major role, and a number of taverne are set up by each of the terzieri, serving medieval fare in an authentic atmosphere with hosts dressed in period costume.

Here's a selection of photos from the day's culminating procession, along with the Corsa itself. (Click on the pictures to launch full-size versions of them.)

An uncommon passion

Silvano has a passion for food. This may seem like a strange thing to say in a nation of gastronomes, but his is an uncommon passion - medieval food. He likes to make it, serve it to people, and tell them about it. In a region with the best-preserved medieval architecture and heritage in Italy, he's the perfect - and rather rare - culinary complement to its historians and cultural doyens (who themselves are plentiful and yet somewhat "latent".)

He's taken his penchant a step further too by housing his restaurant in a renovated castle, tucked away in a small borgo (hamlet) of steep cobbled alleys that contort themselves around and through the structure, creating new discoveries around each twisted corner. If you didn't know where the restaurant was, it would be quite a challenge to find it. But then that's the thing about Il Picciolo di Rame - you don't stumble upon it, it's a deliberate act, you go there because that's where you're going.

Twelve courses based on ancient recipes are introduced with the meticulous detail of the historian and the deep respect of a man of the country, starting off with the most simple of concepts - bruschetta drizzled with olive oil. That's it, no other topping. But this is not just your ordinary olive oil (which I'm sure marchigiani would assert does not exist here) - it's a carefully selected type of olive grown in a very specific area. Three, four, eight-hundred year old recipes follow - a medieval matrimonial dish, wild fennel, a single giant hand-made raviolo, a small type of lentil from the high-altitude Piano Grande with 15 different herbs, goat with wild herbs ...

Silvano said we were finished eating ... and then promptly brought out dessert. You walk out sated, intrigued, thankful, but not overfull, thanks to the modest portions.

And as with any Italian encounter, you just never know what might happen. First, I discovered that his grandfather was born in a house I can see from my own. Then he brought out a wine from a little-known vinicola some distance away (but still in Le Marche), whose owner - a count - I'd interviewed a few months ago, and which is probably the only regional winery to make kosher wine (and export it to New York). (Silvano didn't know this.) The goat he served spawned discussions of goat's milk, a hard-to-find item much sought-after by my wife, and so I walked out with a bottle of fresh goat's milk, with a promise of more if we would just stop by his house when we needed it ...

As with most special eating experiences, it's not just about the food - it's about the whole process: the love, the care, the interest ... and the prospect of making a new friend. It's a symbol of Italy. In Le Marche, you're never far from such experiences - you just need to know where to go ...

Spring in the Sibillini

May is perhaps the best month up in the Sibillini mountains - brisk breezes team up with the spring warmth to require a well-packed backpack, with sweaters and sunhats often in use within half an hour of each other. Snow still clings to the peaks and makes getting to the upper reaches impossible on some roads. The newness of the season also means that only the dedicated - like us - are up there, so on most occasions you have the place to yourself.

And then there are the wildflowers. It's one of the primary calls of going up there (along with the best air in Italy and the feeling of freedom). I can't tell you what they're called, and I can't remember which ones bloom when, I just know I'm an ardent follower. It's a changing scene too - in a matter of weeks the characters and colours of the wildflower world will be changing, and again a couple of weeks after that. These constant shifts of the floral display are always a matter of wonder and admiration, and I'll never tire of it.

This past weekend we went up to our favourite spot, walked up to "our" ridge that looks east, north, and west for miles, with the Sibillini ridges stretching in blue waves to the south. We followed our usual habit of ambling up and slumbering silently in the sun, cool breeze requiring a pullover, and then drifting aimlessly over the earthy domes with ever-changing views over Le Marche and into Umbria and Lazio. It's magificent.

This time I spotted a grove of evergreens a little way down the ridge and so we stopped on our way down. Another world - a pine forest, not a dominant feature around here. Lush carpet of cool grass, an invititation into a verdant hideaway, and yet another perspective in a landscape of multiple personalities.

That's the thing about these mountains - there's always something new to explore, always a little corner that we haven't discovered before. It'll never get old.

Below are some pictures from the day. I should perhaps know better than to post pictures of flowers, but how can I wax so lyrical without giving an idea of what I'm talking about. (Click on the picture to launch a full-size version.)

Sibyl, Pontius, and Le Marche's fabled splendour

"Perhaps the same harshness of these mountains, scoured by the whistling wind, devoured by precipitous torrents, and drilled by peculiar karst phenomena, has contributed not a little to furthering a series of witch legends and making this place celebrated in the 14th and 15th centuries throughout all Europe for magical fairytales and necromantic initiations."

Giuseppe Santarelli knew these mountains well, these central Apennines that bear a prophetess' name. The Sibillini range on Le Marche's western edge may be crowned by Monte Vettore, its highest point at 2,476m/8,123ft, but it's Monte Sibilla that's the keeper of its secrets. Up here on the airy ridges you're never far from the legends that pervade this area, none more so than Sibilla's cave, an enchanted grotto of paradise and promiscuity, serpents and servitude.

Julius with Monte Sibilla hidden by his cap, and Monte Vettore in the distance on the right

Some would have it that the Apennine Sibyl (Sibilla) is she of Cuma from Virgil's Aeneid, transmigrating here from the Phlegraean fields near Naples to escape the retributions of a burgeoning and disapproving Christianity. But local legend claims otherwise - she is born of the Apennines, a beguiling blend of soothsayer and enchantress, luring knights and adventurers into her lair until the end of time.

We spend a lot of time up there, but we've never found the cave, although Julius claims otherwise (see picture). While being somewhat "atmospheric" and "suggestive", his grotto somehow didn't bear the marks of legend - of devil's bridges and razor's edges that widen with each successive step, sparkling sculpted dragons whose eyes illuminate all around, crashing metal doors that threaten to crush intruders, or "gilded alcoves and iridescent furniture."

Julius' Grotta della Sibilla

Antoine de la Salle tells of a German adventurer - some say it was Wagner's Tannhauser - who braved the doors, the dragons, and the violent winds to find a paradise of "gay and carefree youth" fluent in all the languages of the world, where stunning maidens treated them to a life of inexhaustible lust and pleasure, where "old age was banned and pain did not have the right of citizenship." But the signs of the devil were ever evident as every Friday at midnight their consorts transformed into the most terrifying serpents, staying that way until midnight Saturday, when they retransformed themselves into the creatures of delight that kept the knight there without coercion.

When he finally pulled himself away on the 330th day - after which he would not have been able to leave - his conscience bade him express his remorse to the pope and beg for pardon. When the pope refused, the devastated knight returned to the cave, never to be seen again.

While we haven't been able to find the cave, legendary signs abound. Like the shattered shards of shale around Monte Vettore, for example, a product of the goatlike feet of the cave's fate (fairies) as they scrambled back to the grotto. Periodically the fate would descend from their haven to teach the village girls spinning and weaving, and dance the saltarello with the young men. If they didn't make it back to the cave before sunrise, they transformed into mere mortals. And if you were a fata, who (gasp) would want that?

Monte Vettore's "shattered shards of shale", Monte Sibilla ridge in the background

The other main mythical site in the Sibillini, Lago di Pilato (Pilate Lake), is somewhat easier to find than the cave - it nestles in a mountain bowl just below Monte Vettore, and is a popular summer hiking destination. It's here that Pontius Pilate is reputed to be buried, deep in the frigid waters of the twin lakes "in the form of two lenses, like the glasses of a rattlesnake." While many other places in Europe claim to be his final resting place, locals claim that before being executed, Pilate asked Emperor Tiberius for his corpse to be put into a cart drawn by buffaloes, "and left to the power of fate." Somehow fate guided the buffaloes huffing and puffing up to the Sibillini. Another account claims that the waters of the lake turned blood red at the precise moment of Jesus' crucifiction, and that on the surrounding slopes leaves suddenly sprouted resembling two joined hands, each pierced with a nail. (The fact that a rare freshwater shrimp turns the lake's waters red at spawning time is neither here nor there.)

Lago di Pilato

(Copyright GiulioC@Flickr.com)

The lake was also a gathering place for necromancers - nearby Norcia in Umbria was a known centre of witchcraft. Here they would summons their demons, asking for favour in executing evil deeds, in exchange for thier souls. Intruders on such rites were summarily dispatched in rather unappealing ways. But of course that's all just legend ...

... and one doesn't need the legends to enjoy this most spectacular of Le Marche's natural wonders. However, it certainly adds a little colour, and gives its already mystical air yet another dimension. After all, as Giuseppe Santarelli suggests with a classical Italian lyricism: "... inside the cocoon of the ancient legend is the diligent silkworm of eternal knwoledge and the light butterfly of immortal poetry."

Rural Mural

One of my other jobs out here in Italy's hidden secret involves writing a monthly column on Le Marche's many excellent wineries (or, more specifically, Macerata province's). Last week this took me to Matelica, one and only source of its green gold pride, Verdicchio di Matelica. But that's not the subject of this posting.

Every time I go to a town I always stop in at the tourist office to see what's going on, what's new, and to get a local's impressions on any- and everything (normally it's a different person from the last time I was there). This time I stumbled upon a brochure of a nearby town that initiated a project to paint murals on the walls of several houses. After wading through the customary morass of bureaucracy and getting the required permits, art students from all over Italy and beyond came to decorate the walls of this village. This was several years ago, but I reckoned they were still there (the murals, not the artists), and so I took a drive out there.

While some of the murals have been painted over by now, those that remain are a dlightful surprise, adding a colourful and distinctly alternative dimension to this picturesque, traditional village. Take a look. (Double-click on the picture and it will open full-size.)

Serendipitous Le Marche

It was just a single line in an obscure guide, innocuously recommending a visit to the piano nobile of the municipal building "if you have time." I'm glad I had time, although I questioned my use of it when the tourist lady said she'd need to go and get the keys from another office to get in, thinking as I was of the likely fruitless search for the right person, the rummaging around for the keys, the numerous tries in the lock from the bunch resembling a genius's puzzle, ... When the friend with whom she was lost in conversation when I made my request accompanied us, I raised the other eyebrow a little quizzically too.

But all misgivings evaporated when we found the right person immediately, located the appropriate key with equal speed, and was thrust into the most sumptuous of municipal hearing rooms I have ever been in. While the plush green upholstery was impressive, it was the walls and the ceilings that prompted my jaw to drop and my mouth to utter a monosyllabic grunt of awe - ornate, colourful frescoes invited me in, offering accounts of the town's history and depictions of Italy's four surrounding seas. The photos below don't begin to capture its all-round appeal.

I was thankful too for the presence of the friend, whose knowledge of the frescoes and the pictures in the next room was somewhat superior to the tourist lady's. The adjoining rooms were quite different, but in their own way just as engaging, with baroque furniture lounging idly in the corners, and a half-wall of vignettes giving life to Dante's Divine Comedy courtesy one Filippo Bigioli, an early nineteenth-century artist I hadn't heard of before. (Unfortunately the room was too dark to take pictures of his vignettes.)

And this after a highly rewarding visit to the town's small Pinacoteca Civica with its Crivelli brother masterpieces and other gems dating back to the beginning of the thirteenth century. I'm not an art buff, but the craftwork of the works on display by the Crivellis and other artists whose names were new to me can't but be admired. Outside, the elliptical main piazza is an attraction of its own, with its arched arcades and beckoning coffee shops. Tucked away in central Le Marche, this town deserves a visit for anyone with the time, and if you don't have it, make it.

Post a comment if you know the place I'm talking about.

(If you click on the picture, it will launch a full-size view of it.)