Rome's Police Cabins: a History, the Sad Present, and Alternative Uses

 

This widely circulating photograph of a Rome police officer directing traffic in Piazza Venezia not only suggests that the officer may be auditioning for a a role in the latest Cinecittà epic, but shows the pedestal used by the officer for visibility and protection from the traffic at one of Rome's busiest intersections.

On our latest visit to the Eternal City, we became interested in the city's traffic control structures, usually referred to in Italian as "cabine" (cabins) or, in long form, "cabine per vigili urbani" (municipal police cabins). They are now sometimes referred to, in English, as kiosks or booths.

According to ChatGTP (sorry, but our own searches failed), the first police booths were created under Mussolini, to make it easier for police to keep watch over the major intersections and grand new boulevards favored by the regime. They were not standardized.

The familiar green metal and glass kiosks were installed mostly between 1950 and 1980, to deal with a surge in automobile traffic and to assist tourists with directions, the loss of a passport, or other matters. Another factor was the police need for fixed communication posts, because radio systems were still rather primitive. The booths/kiosks/cabins were placed at major piazzas and intersections. This one is on the left bank of the Lungotevere.

The cabine were in decline as early as the 1980s, as traffic lights increasingly regulated traffic, tourist assistance became more sophisticated, and the police had patrol cars, motorcycles, and portable radios. Some cabine were removed and others were abandoned, like the one at the intersection of via Satrico and via Acaia, graffitied and surrounded by the ubiquitous orange security tape.

A few, like the one below in the Centro near the Italian House of Deputies (Montecitorio), continue to have a function—in this case, security, though there was no one inside when we came by. No graffiti (active police presence), and a chair inside.

Rome's graffiti writers have had a field day with the cabine, and why not? This one, at via La Spezia and via Nola, in the San Giovanni area, would seem to be dysfunctional, with one window totally obscured. The window graffiti, "Meloni a Fette," likely refers to the Italian Prime Minister, Giorgia Meloni. The standard translation of "a fette" is "in slices," or "sliced up." 

The intersection of via Panama and viale Liege is so busy that via Panama was recently (and controversially) redesigned. Nonetheless, the police cabina doesn't appear to be viable.

Cabine at night. Piazza Buenos Aires at via Tagliamento (up the street from via Panama) in the Salario district, with graffiti obscuring one window; and a major intersection in front of San Giovanni in Laterano, the basilica behind, the cabin dark and abandoned (there may be a small light on inside).

One of the more interesting, and puzzling, cabine is located on viale Marconi as it intersects with Lungotevere degli Inventori—i.e., just as viale Marconi crosses the Tevere to San Paolo, south of the center city. Shots of the interior of the cabina reveal 2 chairs and, at the right, a button (to change the street light?).

 

The dysfunctional state of most of the existing cabine in time led to the decision to repurpose at least some of the booths as art installations. Under Mayor Robert Gualtieri, in 2022 the city government, in conjunction with the Zètema Progetto Cultura, held a competition, asking young (18-35) artists to present proposals for the decoration of 8 police cabins in "arte figurativa" (figurative) in the following locations: Piazza Vittorio, via Vico Jugario, via Petroselli, via Casilina, via Tor Pignattara, Piazzale Labicano, Circonvolazione Gianicolense, and Piazza di Villa Carpegna. Six artists were selected, and 6 cabins were decorated. We found some; you can try to find the others.

Here's what the cabina in Piazza Vittorio (outside the fence that surrounds the central piazza) looked like in 2025. It appears more than one artist may have worked on the project. The honeycomb design with bee (right side) was accomplished in 2022 by Biceluna (aka Frederica Mancini).

Two sides feature a hand holding a cell phone:

Finally, we thought it would be fun to come up with some non-art alternative uses for the police cabins. Here are a few:

Puppet Theater
Place for Unwed Mothers to Leave Babies
Doughnut Shop for Police

We regret to report that ChatGTP does it better, and funnier. Asked (by our tech-savvy son) to provide humorous alternative uses for Roman police boxes, the AI system produced 12. Here are 4 we thought worthy:

The World's Smallest Airbnb

"Cozy 0-bedroom micro-suite in the heart of Rome. Fits one human shin. E249/night. Cleaning fee E180. Guests must crouch diagonally. No bathroom. No regrets.

     Espresso Bar for Extremely Impatient Romans

A one-customer cafe' featuring:

     One espresso machine

     One barista

     One person yelling "DUE MINUTI!"

You drink standing inside the booth, like a caffeine phone booth.

A Confessional for People Who Don't Want Real Consequences

Step inside, hit a button, and the booth loudly whispers:

"It's okay, everyone hates their coworkers."

Then spits out a tiny printed absolution. 

Gelato Panic Room

For when the heat is unbearable and the line at Giolitti is too long. 

You step inside, the door locks, and it dispenses emergency stracciatella.

Thanks, ChatGTP!

Bill 

Bill Viola brought to you by an insurance company

A newly restored space in Rome. Palazzo Bonaparte (not to be confused, as we almost did, with the Napoleonic Museum) is in a palazzo where at least some of the Bonaparte family lived, on Piazza Venezia, at the beginning of via del Corso (tucked in a corner behind which wraps the Palazzo Pamphilj).

Above, the poster for the Viola exhibit, a video

still from his "Martyrs" series, this one "Water."

 

The current shows are two: the renowned US video artist, Bill Viola, and the Italian sculptor known as Jago, who is described as a "rock star" for his popularity.  Jago will have to wait another day for our visit. We went for Viola, whose work we've admired for years. 

Above, from "The Path (Going Forward by Day)"

The Viola exhibit includes 15 works, and therefore is one of the larger collections of his work in one place. It was curated by his wife. Kira Perov. It's hard to get photos of videos in the darkened rooms, though Bill was successful with a couple. (A good description and review of the exhibit is here: https://www.juliet-artmagazine.com/en/icons-of-light-bill-iola-in-rome/ )

The Viola videos in this show have one characteristic in common: they are slow-moving in the extreme. One can watch for five minutes and nothing appears to happen. And then it does. 

Although we have not yet seen the Jago exhibit, his work seems to share with Viola's a concentration on the body.

Because of the darkened rooms for the Viola show, one cannot get a good look at the restored palazzo. We could see the floors are glass - designed so one can see (if the rooms weren't so dark) the elaborate painted and inlaid floors without tromping on them. The Palazzo Bonaparte Web site has some 360 degree views of the rooms.

A view of the Palazzo
Bonaparte's ground floor

The Web site also has an informative timeline (in Italian and in English) of what this palazzo "saw" over its two centuries on this famous piazza - from 1657 when it was first being built - through the creation of the Italian state, the beginning of gas lighting (it was the first palazzo so lit in Rome), World War I,  the building of the monument to King Vittorio Emanuele II, Fascism, World War II, and the post-war epoch. 

As in other art spaces in Rome, capitalism is at work here. The owner of the building - and the restorer - is Generali Group, an Italian insurance conglomerate, the largest in Italy and among the top ten largest insurance companies in the world. They've teamed up with a cultural behemoth that knows how to mount and run shows: Arthemisia.  The Palazzo's gallery space opened in October 2019 with an exhibit of Impressionist work, which closed in June 2020. The current shows, which opened in March, are the ones to follow, after a period of quiescence caused by Covid.

Cutbacks in government funding for the arts, the lack of a history of individual contributions to not-for-profits, and Covid--all have contributed to a shrinking of the Rome contemporary art world. The capitalists are to be applauded for filling in some of the gaps, much as I think their doing so creates a host of issues, including the obvious demonstration of inequality of income, and their control over what is shown. The Fondazione Sorgente and the Palazzo Merulana are two Rome examples. A Los Angeles example is a gallery opened by the Marciano brothers who made their money with Guess Jeans. It closed when the workers tried to unionize, to underscore my point about control.

Above and below right, two stills from the "Fire" video in the "Martyrs" series.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the art that the capitalists are bringing to us, even if they are making us pay for it. Tickets for each of the Viola and Jago shows are 15 Euro, 20 Euro for both shows at the same time (with a host of "reductions"). From our experience, you do not need to book in advance.  Ticket, days and hours (open every day, for many hours) information here.

Dianne

Saving Rome's Buildings, with Capitalism

Rome is being repaired--building by building, monument by monument. Signs of this effort are ubiquitous: one structure after another covered in canvas, and behind it, scaffolding.  The Trevi fountain, emptied of its water for months while reconstruction crews do their thing.  Restoration work on both of Rome's coliseums: the ancient, famous one in the city center, and the Colosseo Quadrato (square coliseum), an elegant Fascist-era building in EUR. 

This is mostly good news; at least some of Rome's historic structures are finally getting the care they need.  The bad news is that these reconstruction efforts come with strings attached.  The core of the problem is that much of the restoration work--just how much cannot be gleaned from newspaper reports--is funded by corporations.  The corporations want something for their money, hence the strings.  One string (a minor one, to be sure) is that whatever company is funding the project gets to put its name, or its product, or both on the cloth that shrouds the buildings and the scaffolding.  While undergoing repairs, the building becomes an advertisement, a billboard.  Americans are used to billboards and other very large advertisements, and may even regard them as essential to a vibrant urban scene.  This is surely true in Los Angeles, where notice of the latest blockbuster film may occupy the entire side of a very tall building.  Romans, however, have no billboard history that I know of, no experience until recently, as wall art has achieved a certain popularity, with visual clutter akin to advertising gigantism.

Yet there it is.  An ad for Jaguar looming over Largo di Santa Susanna.  More than one pitch for a company known as Mediolanum, which apparently has something to do with banking.

A huge picture of the latest Samsung Galaxy phone (probably the one that catches fire and is no longer being produced), positioned between Piazza Venezia and Hadrian's column. 

Ads for the New Tiguan--that's an automobile--dominating the Tiber end of via della Conciliazione.




An enormous ad for the second season of the TV series "Gomorra" on the historic Palazzo della Cancelleria (see the top of this post).  So that's one "string" attached: visual pollution.  It's advertising, not art.

The other string is more interesting, and arguably more disturbing.  The corporations that do this work not only want to advertise while they're doing it.  They also want--and get--a degree of control over the property whose restoration they're funding.  That brings us to Fendi, a company with Roman roots, and one known for many years for its fashionable furs.  Beginning a few years ago, the company embarked on a plan to restore several of the city's best-known fountains, beginning with the Trevi, where the company invested about $2.9 million.  The restoration was completed in the fall of 2015, just in time, as it happens, for Fendi's 90th anniversary.  To mark that occasion, in July 2016 the company drained the fountain, installed a 66-yard-long glass catwalk, filled the Trevi again--and, in a sunset display of haute couture, brought out 37 models, who seemed to walk on water.

That spectacle, which allowed the company to identify its brand with one of the world's great attractions, continues to benefit Fendi.  On the following November 15, the company featured the July event in a two-page spread in the New York Times. 

One could reasonably argue that's a good deal for Rome, Romans, and tourists: a landmark spruced up, used for an evening by its benefactor, powerful images of the Trevi circulating in the media. 

More problematic is what's happened recently in EUR, where Fendi is also involved, this time with the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana--the iconic "square coliseum."  Apparently as a reward for financial assistance with repairs to the building (we're assuming that), Fendi was able to rent the building for 15 years for 240,000 Euro per month.  Under the agreement with EUR Spa, a public entity, Fendi also became the exclusive licensee of commercial images of the square coliseum for that same 15-year period. 

All this came to light, at least for us, when a gay pride organization, Roma Pride, used the building  as a backdrop for its publicity--3 guys in bikinis on the stairs, framed by the building's many arches. Fendi didn't like it. The cultural minister sided with Fendi: it was OK to sell the rights to commercial images, and not OK for Roma Pride to use the image of the Square Coliseum for commercial purposes.  And there the issue stands: symbolic, if nothing else, of corporate encroachment on Rome's historical heritage, for better or for worse, or both.

Bill

Galleria Doria Pamphilj - the Third Time

Courtyard - hard to believe this is off via del Corso

Galleria Doria Pamphilj (or Pamphili) is a stupendous gallery of  paintings and sculpture in the heart of Rome.  For many years it has been on the path of those seeking to see all Caravaggios in Rome and perhaps a few others, in a seen-better-days enormous palazzo sitting on Piazza Venezia.

Bagno di Diana

I always loved the gallery, where I first went in 1993 with Nancy DeConcillis and her intrepid group of international women "stuck" in Rome while their husbands worked (that was me!).  I had been back once about 10 years ago, but returned this year and found the Galleria and the Palazzo totally transformed.  Hard to believe John Cheever lived in an apartment here (and didn't like it, as I recall). I tried to go in through the entrance on the nondescript Piazza del Collegio Romano, which is more a parking lot than a piazza, but even the entrance had changed to the more accessible via del Corso.

You now enter through a lush courtyard and are taken immediately to a previously inaccessible, exquisite "bath" - "bagno di Diana" - built by Prince Filippo Andrea V for his British bride, Mary Talbot.

A family room (!)  Space for foosball--or soccer.

The next set of rooms are the "family" rooms.  These are the main objects of  restoration in the last decades.  Prince Jonathan Doria Pamphilj (the British-raised adopted son - he lucked out!) is your audio-guide voice for the family rooms, and he does a wonderful job of conveying the wealth and restoration while not seeming arrogant - no mean feat for a prince.  The audio guide is free with your ticket.

You must pay an additional Euro 4 for permission to photograph (in the middle of the upstairs galleries at a small bookshop, not when and where you buy your ticket).  Worth it, I think.

Gallery

Most of the sculptures are in this odd room; turns out the sculptures were from the
Pamphilj gardens and moved inside for protection (from the proletariat after
unification?), but the roof of this room collapsed, damaging most of them.
This room now also has the 3 Caravaggios, seen here.



Family chapel

The art galleries themselves are, of course, what one comes for. With more than 500 paintings, among them works  by Caravaggio (3), Guido Reni, Annibale Carraci, Titian, and Raphael, and sculptures, including ones by Bernini.  The audio guide for the paintings is also excellent, allowing you to tune in when you want to and providing just the right amount of information.

Via del Corso, 305 (first block after Piazza Venezia), open 9 a.m. - 7 p.m. every day except Christmas, New Year's, and Easter.  In other words, it's often open when other galleries are not. At 11 Euros not cheap, but you get your money's worth.  There's now a nice cafe in the palazzo as well.

There is more information on the Web site: http://www.doriapamphilj.it/ukhome.asphttp://www.doriapamphilj.it/ukhome.  There are concerts held here at times too.

Worth a visit the second time, or even a third, or fourth or more.

Dianne

Fra Lippo Lippi's Annunciation

Donna Olimpia Aldobrandini - a sole heiress,
she combined the fortunes of the Doria, Pamphilj
and Aldobrandini, and bought a whole lot of art
in the 1600s.

Rome's most "used" Fountains

Among Rome's great pleasures are its fountains--about 1,000 of them, according to one authority--and not just because they're beautiful or stylish, or because they testify to Rome's abundant supply of fresh water. As any thirsty traveler will tell you, most of them are also useful, even essential, especially in the summer months, when the city swelters in the heat.


RST has identified two fountains that are especially busy, crowded with tourists, locals, and the faithful slaking a thirst.  Each, predictably, is located in the heart of a tourist area, and each has a certain style--even if that style is sometimes mediated by a plastic bottle or the crush of the needy.

The first, below, can be found in Piazza San Marco, that little rectangle of semi-sanity adjacent to Piazza Venezia and across the street from the Altare della Patria.

The second is just to the north of Piazza San Pietro [the right side, as one faces the basilica] - note the fountain's shape - Pope's hats and St. Peter's keys to the church.

Drink up, Rome.
Bill

Grass comes to Rome

Captive grass in Piazza Venezia

There is no grass in Rome.  Not until recently, anyway.  For years what passed for grass in Rome consisted mostly of weeds, trimmed now and then (mostly then).  The "grassy" spaces in public parks and piazzas consisted of dirt, stones--and trampled weeds.

Piazza Cavour

Things have changed.  Grass has arrived!  Here and there, the keen observer will see signs of the emergence of a new grass aesthetic.  Piazza Venezia now has two grass-as-spectacle areas, both featuring grass so perfect, and so perfectly maintained, as to provoke envy in any American suburban homeowner.  The Scotts Turf Builder look, the grass protected from the public by short, decorative fences.  Casa del Jazz offers a grass lawn, populated by signs telling you not to walk on it.  There's plenty of grass in EUR (after all, it was built as a suburb), but also plenty of weeds.  And elegant Piazza Cavour, behind the grandiose Palace of Justice, has some very nice grass. 

Real grass in Piazza dei Rei di Roma.  Not for dogs or humans,
according to the sign.

Piazza dei Re di Roma has some natural grass that actually looks like grass, though there, and elsewhere, the "grass aesthetic" also includes artificial grass--some sort of astroturf (love that spaceage term), immune to dogs. 

Rotary project, Trieste

In upscale Trieste, the Rotary Club maintains a small plot of genuine grass, perhaps so that children can grow up knowing what it is. 







  

They painted the grass green

In Piazza Sant' Emerenziana, in the neighborhood  known familiarly as the "Quartiere Africano," city authorities spruced up a huge subway ventilation unit by covering it with grass and then, as the grass lost its color in the heat, spray-painting it green.   

Keep off the grass couch!

Even the Rome art world has come to appreciate grass.  A fellow of the American Academy showed the way several years ago with a work of grass so tempting that Dianne assumed, incorrectly, that it was designed to be walked on.  More recently, the Casa dell'Architettura (also known as the Aquario,
because it's a former aquarium), showed off a grass-covered sofa, chair, end table, and lamp.  For those who have everything!

Bill

Artificial turf in Piazza dei Re di Roma.  Twenty years ago, the piazza was a dump.

Window Shopping in Rome: RST at Minerva Auctions

by Sonia Delaunay

Being fans of 20th-century Italian art, we were intrigued by an "asta", or auction, in the Centro.  Not having been to many (any?) art auctions, we were a bit intimidated by the thought of dropping in on an auction house.  But the quality of the works drove us to try it.

And so we found ourselves sitting on hard back chairs in rows of 8 or so, along with 2 dozen others, including some people bidding for those not present, who were seated at a table on the side, whispering away on their cell phones. It was somewhat surreal to watch the bidding on 20th-century artists in the gorgeous Palazzo Odescaldhi in Piazza SS. Apostoli, just up from Piazza Venezia.

A peak through the doorway
 at Minerva's auction in action

The auction house, Minerva Auctions, has a regular schedule of auctions, regular hours for viewing the works ahead of time, and a low-key approach to walk-ins.   We decided to get a number, which required only submitting an i.d.  And we didn't bid, but we thought hard about it, or at least I did.

We post Minerva Auctions at this time, because they have an auction at 4 p.m. on November 14 featuring 20th-century art. You can view the show ahead of time Saturday-Wednesday 10 a.m - 6 p.m., and the day of the auction 10 a.m. until 3 p.m.  The catalog is online.  The works are not solely Italian and come in all price ranges.  There's a small Sonia Delaunay, estimated at Euro 150-200; and a de Chirico lithograph at Euro 600-800.  We might be drawn to a Renato Guttuso lithograph at Euro 100-150. (See Frederika Randall's review of a Guttuso show earlier this year: http://romethesecondtime.blogspot.com/2013/01/renato-guttuso-frederika-randall.html.)

by Renato Guttuso

Of course, some of you may want to spring for a Picasso linocut estimated at  Euro 5,000-7,000.  Read the hand-out carefully for all the additional charges.




Scuola italiana, 19th century

Just being on Minerva's email list is fun and intriguing.  The show that follows this one, while not up our alley, will be up someone's - Art of the 19th Century, including furniture.  That catalog is online as well.

Dianne

Watching the Tourists: I

Tourist Ballet, Piazza Venezia
 

If you're visiting Rome in the high season, the tourists can be irritating.  They clog the sidewalks and the top attractions and by their very presence define the restaurants you don't want to go into because they're "tourist traps."  The other side of this is that tourists can be entertaining, part of a rich tourist experience if you will. 

Here's an example.  These girls on the scooter may be Romans, but they're not sure where they are or where they're going. They're sitting at a light at via Ostiense, looking west up via del Porto Fluviale. They're got about 30 seconds to make up their minds.  If they tip over there'll be some serious skin loss.

Some things are just irresistible, especially for young men.  This scene was enacted in a small park off Piazza Venezia.

Rome tourists like to be photographed with gladiators, even at the Trevi Fountain, which was constructed about 1500 years after the last gladiator.

Some things are irresistible, especially for older men.  I liked this pose in front of the Altare della Patria (the enormous monument to Italian unification) in Piazza Venezia.

Bill