Things I Miss in Rome: 6th in a Series

 Things I Miss in Rome....

1.  Weird structures in the countryside. 

2.   Dianne getting a Lemoncocco

3.   Spectacular Balconies 

4.   Piano Day

5.   The Cult of Pasolini 

Things I Miss in Rome, part IV

                   
Things I Miss in Rome (4th installment):

1.  Still another Bar Centrale

2.  Imagining myself on one of those balconies with a glass of wine.

3.  Stuff I don't understand

4.  Discovering Romans' heroes

5.  Cat ladies

Bill 

Taking Photos in Rome? Watch Out!

The photos on this page have no common subject matter, but they are related: all were taken within 48 hours, and--more important--all produced criticism, or concern, from people around us, whether they were in the frame or not. 




The first photo was taken in Pigneto, during a public event called Citta' Aperta (Open City).  In this instance, I was photographing a street sign on which street artists had done some work.  As I was taking it, a woman in the distance--about 100 feet away--got up from a bench, waved her arms and yelled "no foto, no foto."  I explained that I was photographing the sign, not her, and she calmed down. 

The second photo was taken across the street from our apartment in via Palasciano, near Piazza San Giovanni di Dio.  The subject was a large banner/sign of Jesus that covered most of the back wall of a small car-washing business.  As I took the photograph, the proprietor or employee emerged, concerned about what I was doing.  Dianne explained, but his unease remained.




Later, on a walk in the neighborhood, we turned down what turned out to be a dead-end street, passing an older man walking a Dalmatian-like dog on a leash.  Working our way back to the main street, I took the third photograph, of a building whose rounded balconies I found intriguing.  The dog-walker was upset, asking what I was doing, and he was not mollified by my explanation that I found the building's curves compelling.  As his dog barked and snarled, he said with vehemence and obvious irritation that we couldn't

Looks like an "abusivo"--an illegal addition--on the
third level

take such photographs.  When I asked him if it was against the law, he said yes, of course it was, and he twice asked us, still irritated and rubbing in whatever authority he (and his dog) possessed, if we understood what he was saying. 

The next day, while reading La Repubblica over morning coffee, I discovered that Ermanno Polla, a professor of architecture, had similar experiences while carrying out a study of Rome's buildings.  Polla's project was to photograph, chart, and draw every façade of every building within the city's walls, which he did over a 17-year period.  "So many negative comments," he said in the interview with a reporter.  "People said to me, 'What are you doing here?  Why are you taking photographs?"  Although the chair of his department had written a letter for Polla explaining his purpose and reinforcing that he wasn't an impostor--and Polla had made thousands of copies to distribute--"only a few trusted me and invited me into the entrances halls or courtyards." 

Much suspicion.  Too much. 
Bill

Caged in Rome

A Man's Home is his Castle, and if Romans had their way, every home would be surrounded by a moat. Romans live mostly in apartments. The doors to the units usually have multiple locks with massive keys that turn a raft of thick bolts into chambers on the second door and into the floor and ceiling. Sometimes one of the locks is fake, apparently to fool would-be intruders into thinking the place impenetrable. Outside, first floor windows are invariably guarded by dense roll-down shutters and formidable wrought-iron bars with locks.

Still, we were surprised by the lengths to which one resident of the Aventine (see above) had gone to protect his balcony from invasion. Bill

The Curves of Modernism

We're admirers of curvilinear modernism, a 20th-century architectural style that combines the ordered discipline of pure rationalism with the playful energy and dynamism of the curve.

We have several examples from the byways of Rome, none from places where tourists are common, or where one normally looks for architectural wonders.

The first, visible from the platform at the Ostiense train station (we're referring to the Fascist-era building on the left of the photo), was probably intended as a central work station for the rail lines that move through the facility. You'll find it on Itinerary 4 in Rome the Second Time.

Another lovely arc (right) graces the top floor of a small apartment building in Monteverde, across from the bus stop on via Fratelli Bonnet, between via Carini and the wall.




Down the hill from there, in the back of the huge public housing project at via di Donna Olimpia and via Ozanam, you'll find the delightful set of concave curves

featured below.


And a great set of powerful balconies, racing around a corner.

Bill

Rome's Balconies

Romans love their sunshine, and to enjoy it they have their terraces (terrazzi) and balconies (balconi). You won't find many in the Centro Storico, where the palatial homes built by elite families resembled fortesses and looked inward, rather than toward the street. But terraces and, especially, balconies, are a feature of many apartment buildings constructed after about 1925 and are nearly universal in post-1960 structures. It is possible to date a building from the materials used to construct a balcony; round, curved, pipe-like railings--an element of the modernist aesthetic--were common in the 1930s and into the 1940s; thinner railings, of bent or curved wrought iron, are often of 1950s or 1960s vintage.

And some balconies--like the ones presented here--are spectacular works of architectural art. These buildings are side by side above a massive hillside wall in the upper reaches of Trastevere, just above where viale Trastevere turns the corner and becomes Circonvallazione Gianicolense. The photos were taken from via Parrasio.

Bill