Graffiti Writers at Work: An Unusual Sighting

"Love and Revolution," via del Mandrione

The rear of the unused Casilina train station, via del Mandrione

Graffiti--and its lowest form, tagging--is all over Rome. One gets the impression that "writers"--the young people who do most of this stuff--must be constantly at work to mark up the city so thoroughly.  What's curious, then, is how seldom one observes a graffiti writer at work, given that we have spent, literally, thousands of hours walking the streets of Rome and environs.

I can recall only two sightings of graffiti writers engaged in the act. One was years ago, while walking the Ponte Milvio, when I saw a young man wielding a spray can while decorating one of the Tiber River embankments.  I took a photo--too difficult to locate now--and was momentarily enraged (we yelled at him, but that didn't stop him).

The second sighting was last year.  Dianne and I were walking a desolate (partly because it parallels a railroad track, which limits access, and partly because portions of it have been blocked off from automobile traffic) section of the via del Mandrione, out in Tuscolano. Parts of the street to the south were a favorite haunt of the poet Pier Paolo Pasolini. We were searching--as unlikely as it sounds--for a bank building where we hoped to attend a jazz performance.  It was late afternoon.  Both of the photos at the top of this post were taken that day, on via del Mandrione.

Around a bend, perhaps a hundred meters ahead, three young men, spray paint cans in hand or at the ready, were quite clearly writing graffiti. I took one photo, uncomfortably, because what they were doing was illegal, and I did not want to threaten them by revealing that I was recording their activity. And as we passed, their body language suggested a bit of discomfort, as if there was a possibility that we were not sympathetic, that we might turn them in to the authorities.

Still, they continued their work and, just around the next bend, we found our concert (it could have been the worst jazz band we've ever heard.

Bill

Villa Certosa: A Hidden Rome Neighborhood

Railroad tracks are usually the enemy of community.  They cut through and divide neighborhoods, bringing with them dirt and noise and a certain trashy, industrial ugliness, leavened, if barely, by the graffiti that often covers their sides.  Paradoxically, rail lines can also create neighborhoods and nurture community, doing so by isolating an area and, effectively, protecting it from outsiders.

Railroads explain the charm of a Rome neighborhood known as Villa Certosa.  Villa Certosa is a spit of land bordered on one side by the multi-track Ferrovia Urbana Roma Giardinetto, which runs adjacent to the busy via Casilina; and another--even more impenetrable and isolating--track to the south and west that eventually passes through the Parco degli aquedotti (Aqueduct Park).  One can access Villa Certosa at several several places along the Casilina line, but the other track is a solid barrier.  Because one can't get through Villa Certosa to go anywhere else (there is one exception to that), there's no reason to go there--unless one lives there.  Or unless you're in quest of "authentic" Rome, the "real" Rome that tourists--even clever and committed ones--never see.

Even then, those looking for a spectacular site are likely to be underwhelmed.  The houses are simple, the pace deliberate, the noise and bustle of via Tor Pignattara, while not that far away, fails to intrude - that's also Villa Certosa's charm.

Perhaps the best place to access Villa Certosa is through Largo Alessi, a stop on the Casilina/Giardinetto line.  Wander southwest on via Galeazzo Alessi, along the tracks. As it turns left, take a right at the first or second street--the second one is via Savorgnan, which runs the length of Villa Certosa. As you turn onto via Savorgnan, you'll see a restaurant that is one of our favorites, Betto e Mary, about which we posted several years ago (recognizing the very Roman food - innards and horsemeat, and the bell that rang for our large "mancia" or tip - which we gave because the bill was so small).

Quiet, unassuming streets.

Not far ahead you'll begin to see more commercial activity, including Bar Shakespeare, with benches outside.  There's beer and wine, and the wine list is surprisingly long and good; so get yourself a glass of wine and sit out front with the dog-walking locals, or in a very funky outdoor back room.

A few paces beyond, and you'll be in the "town center," Largo dei Savorgnan, also known as Piazza Ciro Principessa.  Here there's another bar--less hip and cool than Bar Shakespeare, but no less authentic.

The other bar.

--as well as the seat of local government. (below).

A large mural identifies Villa Certosa's local hero son, Ciro Principessa, in whose name there's a yearly festival, held in May.  Raised in Naples, Principessa had been living in Villa Certosa for two years (he was 17; the year was 1979).  A committed anti-Fascist, he was working in a library on nearby via Tor Pignattara when Claudio Minetti, a militant neo-Fascist, entered the library with a companion and asked to borrow a book.  Principessa asked for his library card and Minetti ran out with the book.  Principessa gave chase, and in the ensuing struggle, Minetti stabbed Principessa in the chest.  He died in the hospital.

Below, the poster reads: Fascism is not an opinion, it's a crime.

Having absorbed the minimalist delights of the piazza, continue on the main street until you hit the "T," where you can go right and under the tracks to the famed via del Mandrione in Tuscolano, or left (which we suggest), working your way downhill until you reach via Tor Pignattara, and Villa Certosa ends.   If you turn right at the T, at the end of the tunnel you'll find yourself on a particularly intimidating section of via del Mandrione, with few outlets.

Maybe a hundred yards before you get to via Tor Pignattara, there's an entrance to some older buildings on your right.  In back--you have to be a bit intrepid here--there's ANOTHER wine bar.  This one looks like a back yard, and it was closed when we came through, but apparently it exists.

The other wine bar.  

Villa Certosa has TWO WINE BARS, and all without a hint of gentrification.

We first heard about Villa Certosa from our friend Patrick.  Otherwise we might never have found it.  Thanks, Patrick!

Bill