As the author himself explains, the title of Tomaso Montanari’s latest book, that is Closed churches (Einaudi), comes from afar. In fact, at its origin there are a couple of volumes both released in 2020 and entitled respectively Abandoned Churches by Francis Meslet and Guide to the “closed” churches of Venice by Sara Marini, Micol Roversi Monaco and Elisa Monaci. Yet the difference between these two texts and Montanari’s writing could not be greater.
In fact, we are witnessing the transition from the genre of the denunciation essay to a sort of real moral operetta. Of course, even that of Montanari is a documented book aimed at accusing the state of desolation in which thousands of sacred monuments find themselves today in our country. However, in its pages there circulate an indignation and a compassion that make it an example of civil literature. I am thinking of the chapter which speaks of the “martyrdom” of the ancient Italian churches.
Beyond the appalling situation in Naples, the scholar recalls the collapse of San Giuseppe dei Falegnami in Rome, on the Imperial Forums, horrifying at the questions of the chroniclers: which masterpieces were destroyed? How much is the damage? The gravity of this loss, he replies, is not measured by the names of the artists of the “major exhibition”, nor by quotations from international auctions. That small church was not only a rich location for the religious wedding industry: it was also, and above all, “a cell of our collective face”, “a piece of the fabric, unique in the world, which we call Italy”, “not a eye, not the nose or the mouth of the face of Rome, but a small strip of its skin ».
For years Montanari has been fighting against the dismantling of the superintendencies, systematically pursued by a policy that is oblivious to the common good. For years it has been arguing against the aggression against public spaces in historic cities perpetrated by private interests. For years he has criticized the monetization of artistic heritage.
This book, however, transmits a truly irresistible pathos, thanks also to the precious quotes of men such as Pietro Calamandrei, Benedetto Croce, Lorenzo Milani, giants who watched over our tradition with a free, secular, disinterested spirit. Already author, with Vincenzo Trione, of the libellus Against the exhibitions (Einaudi), Montanari reiterates his positions here underlining the importance of protecting the integrity of our cultural legacy.
You can see it from this bitter tale: “I happened to suggest to more than one boy eager to study the history of art, but first anxious to test that vocation, to go up the Peninsula in a sort of Via Dolorosa winding through the ruined churches: if at the end of that pilgrimage you still want to become an exhibition curator or event promoter, it would be better for everyone to give up ».
Continue reading on the weekly The Post Internazionale-TPI: click here.
As the author himself explains, the title of Tomaso Montanari’s latest book, that is Closed churches (Einaudi), comes from afar. In fact, at its origin there are a couple of volumes both released in 2020 and entitled respectively Abandoned Churches by Francis Meslet and Guide to the “closed” churches of Venice by Sara Marini, Micol Roversi Monaco and Elisa Monaci. Yet the difference between these two texts and Montanari’s writing could not be greater.
In fact, we are witnessing the transition from the genre of the denunciation essay to a sort of real moral operetta. Of course, even that of Montanari is a documented book aimed at accusing the state of desolation in which thousands of sacred monuments find themselves today in our country. However, in its pages there circulate an indignation and a compassion that make it an example of civil literature. I am thinking of the chapter which speaks of the “martyrdom” of the ancient Italian churches.
Beyond the appalling situation in Naples, the scholar recalls the collapse of San Giuseppe dei Falegnami in Rome, on the Imperial Forums, horrifying at the questions of the chroniclers: which masterpieces were destroyed? How much is the damage? The gravity of this loss, he replies, is not measured by the names of the artists of the “major exhibition”, nor by quotations from international auctions. That small church was not only a rich location for the religious wedding industry: it was also, and above all, “a cell of our collective face”, “a piece of the fabric, unique in the world, which we call Italy”, “not a eye, not the nose or the mouth of the face of Rome, but a small strip of its skin ».
For years Montanari has been fighting against the dismantling of the superintendencies, systematically pursued by a policy that is oblivious to the common good. For years it has been arguing against the aggression against public spaces in historic cities perpetrated by private interests. For years he has criticized the monetization of artistic heritage.
This book, however, transmits a truly irresistible pathos, thanks also to the precious quotes of men such as Pietro Calamandrei, Benedetto Croce, Lorenzo Milani, giants who watched over our tradition with a free, secular, disinterested spirit. Already author, with Vincenzo Trione, of the libellus Against the exhibitions (Einaudi), Montanari reiterates his positions here underlining the importance of protecting the integrity of our cultural legacy.
You can see it from this bitter tale: “I happened to suggest to more than one boy eager to study the history of art, but first anxious to test that vocation, to go up the Peninsula in a sort of Via Dolorosa winding through the ruined churches: if at the end of that pilgrimage you still want to become an exhibition curator or event promoter, it would be better for everyone to give up ».
Continue reading on the weekly The Post Internazionale-TPI: click here.
As the author himself explains, the title of Tomaso Montanari’s latest book, that is Closed churches (Einaudi), comes from afar. In fact, at its origin there are a couple of volumes both released in 2020 and entitled respectively Abandoned Churches by Francis Meslet and Guide to the “closed” churches of Venice by Sara Marini, Micol Roversi Monaco and Elisa Monaci. Yet the difference between these two texts and Montanari’s writing could not be greater.
In fact, we are witnessing the transition from the genre of the denunciation essay to a sort of real moral operetta. Of course, even that of Montanari is a documented book aimed at accusing the state of desolation in which thousands of sacred monuments find themselves today in our country. However, in its pages there circulate an indignation and a compassion that make it an example of civil literature. I am thinking of the chapter which speaks of the “martyrdom” of the ancient Italian churches.
Beyond the appalling situation in Naples, the scholar recalls the collapse of San Giuseppe dei Falegnami in Rome, on the Imperial Forums, horrifying at the questions of the chroniclers: which masterpieces were destroyed? How much is the damage? The gravity of this loss, he replies, is not measured by the names of the artists of the “major exhibition”, nor by quotations from international auctions. That small church was not only a rich location for the religious wedding industry: it was also, and above all, “a cell of our collective face”, “a piece of the fabric, unique in the world, which we call Italy”, “not a eye, not the nose or the mouth of the face of Rome, but a small strip of its skin ».
For years Montanari has been fighting against the dismantling of the superintendencies, systematically pursued by a policy that is oblivious to the common good. For years it has been arguing against the aggression against public spaces in historic cities perpetrated by private interests. For years he has criticized the monetization of artistic heritage.
This book, however, transmits a truly irresistible pathos, thanks also to the precious quotes of men such as Pietro Calamandrei, Benedetto Croce, Lorenzo Milani, giants who watched over our tradition with a free, secular, disinterested spirit. Already author, with Vincenzo Trione, of the libellus Against the exhibitions (Einaudi), Montanari reiterates his positions here underlining the importance of protecting the integrity of our cultural legacy.
You can see it from this bitter tale: “I happened to suggest to more than one boy eager to study the history of art, but first anxious to test that vocation, to go up the Peninsula in a sort of Via Dolorosa winding through the ruined churches: if at the end of that pilgrimage you still want to become an exhibition curator or event promoter, it would be better for everyone to give up ».
Continue reading on the weekly The Post Internazionale-TPI: click here.
As the author himself explains, the title of Tomaso Montanari’s latest book, that is Closed churches (Einaudi), comes from afar. In fact, at its origin there are a couple of volumes both released in 2020 and entitled respectively Abandoned Churches by Francis Meslet and Guide to the “closed” churches of Venice by Sara Marini, Micol Roversi Monaco and Elisa Monaci. Yet the difference between these two texts and Montanari’s writing could not be greater.
In fact, we are witnessing the transition from the genre of the denunciation essay to a sort of real moral operetta. Of course, even that of Montanari is a documented book aimed at accusing the state of desolation in which thousands of sacred monuments find themselves today in our country. However, in its pages there circulate an indignation and a compassion that make it an example of civil literature. I am thinking of the chapter which speaks of the “martyrdom” of the ancient Italian churches.
Beyond the appalling situation in Naples, the scholar recalls the collapse of San Giuseppe dei Falegnami in Rome, on the Imperial Forums, horrifying at the questions of the chroniclers: which masterpieces were destroyed? How much is the damage? The gravity of this loss, he replies, is not measured by the names of the artists of the “major exhibition”, nor by quotations from international auctions. That small church was not only a rich location for the religious wedding industry: it was also, and above all, “a cell of our collective face”, “a piece of the fabric, unique in the world, which we call Italy”, “not a eye, not the nose or the mouth of the face of Rome, but a small strip of its skin ».
For years Montanari has been fighting against the dismantling of the superintendencies, systematically pursued by a policy that is oblivious to the common good. For years it has been arguing against the aggression against public spaces in historic cities perpetrated by private interests. For years he has criticized the monetization of artistic heritage.
This book, however, transmits a truly irresistible pathos, thanks also to the precious quotes of men such as Pietro Calamandrei, Benedetto Croce, Lorenzo Milani, giants who watched over our tradition with a free, secular, disinterested spirit. Already author, with Vincenzo Trione, of the libellus Against the exhibitions (Einaudi), Montanari reiterates his positions here underlining the importance of protecting the integrity of our cultural legacy.
You can see it from this bitter tale: “I happened to suggest to more than one boy eager to study the history of art, but first anxious to test that vocation, to go up the Peninsula in a sort of Via Dolorosa winding through the ruined churches: if at the end of that pilgrimage you still want to become an exhibition curator or event promoter, it would be better for everyone to give up ».
Continue reading on the weekly The Post Internazionale-TPI: click here.