Looking for Brutalism: Balsamo Crivelli, Serenissima, and the 544

Some time ago one of our readers--we'll call him Mr. X (if, indeed, he is a man), responded to a piece we had written on Brutalist architecture.  What set off Mr. X was our statement that "There isn't much brutalism in Rome and environs."

"WTH?" began Mr. X.  "The entire 544 ATAC bus line is nothing but Roman Brutalism.  I invite you to visit here and ride it with me.  Get off, take a look at Balsamo Crivelli and tell me the entire facility isn't classic Brutalist architecture.  La Questura headquarters at Serenissima station as well. All of post-Fascist Rome is as Brutalist as it comes. How can you have missed it?  Dear God, come see it! Rome is almost entirely Brutalist.  Look at her government architecture.  I live here!"

The 544

RST didn't ride the 544 with Mr. X, but we did, indeed, take the 544 bus from Balsamo Crivelli to Serenissima station.  Despite asking a dozen people where the Questura might be found, we never found the headquarters to which Mr. X refers, and an internet search revealed no Questura within a mile and a half.

What we did find is the subject of this post. But first a little background on Brutalism.  As used by scholars, the term Brutalism refers to an architectural movement of the mid-1950s through the 1970s. The word Brutalism derives from the French term beton brut (raw concrete), the material identified with Brutalism.  Buildings made with raw, unfinished, and uncovered concrete often have a fortress-like feel and appearance.  Then there are the "brick brutalists," who combine detailed brickwork with concrete.

So, whether you're talking about Brutalism or Brick Brutalism, you've gotta have concrete, and it has to be "raw"--that is, unfinished.  It doesn't count as Brutalist if it's covered with marble, or even if it's covered with a concrete finish, such as stucco.  There are thousands of stucco buildings in Rome, but none of them are Brutalist by the standard architectural definition.

Some of the post-1960 apartment buildings that line Viale della Serenissima.  "Brutal" perhaps--that's a matter of
taste--but not Brutalist.  

Brutalism is most often identified with government buildings, universities, shopping centers, and housing projects.  Architects have generally avoided using the term.  And, importantly for the Mr. X argument--the term has more recently become part of the popular discourse, referring (says Wikipedia) to "buildings of the late-twentieth century that are large or unpopular--as a synonym for "brutal."

To our knowledge, the only Brutalist
structure in Serenissima.

Here's the bottom line: neither Serenissima nor Balsamo Crivelli has many buildings that qualify as Brutalism by their use of raw concrete.  We found only one such building in Serenissima: curiously, a church bell tower.

And Balsamo Crivelli has one, maybe two.  Nor did we find much raw concrete on the ride between the two suburbs.

The Autostrade HQ, ahead center right.

The headquarters of the Autostrade, which lies just outside the center of Balsamo Crivelli, is
standard, government-issue late modernism, but it isn't Brutalism.

All concrete all the time.  Brutalist.  The Soviet look.

Just to the south of the Autostrade building is an apartment complex that seems to us to qualify as Brutalism.  We first saw it from the 544, again on our walk back.   









Both places have plenty of large apartment buildings, many of them without distinction, some of them downright ugly.  Most are not Brutalist, but the one on the left, above, is.

Corviale-esque in its length and sameness.  But unlike Corviale, it's not concrete.

And Serenissima has a large apartment complex made up of identical, stucco-covered buildings, one after the other, receding into the distance (below).  Not enticing, but not Brutalism.

Looks like "projects."  You might not want to live there, but it's not Brutalism.

In short, Balsamo Crivelli and Serenissima have many buildings that are "large" and "unpopular" (for Mr. X, a at least)--that is, "brutalist" with a small "b," buildings that look "brutal" (again, to Mr. X, at least). Aside: Serenissima is a generally unappealing place, but it does have a new, chic, modern bar/wine bar.

Amidst all those big apartment buildings and "projects," this
elegant coffee/wine bar.  Estro, Viale della Serenissima 67

Balsamo Crivelli is centered on a park that could be elegant, or at least attractive, were it not so overgrown.  Across the street from the park we found a building that, while perhaps not Brutalist in the classic sense, was shockingly so by the cultural definition--and has a Brutalist feature.

One of the ends of the "U"

The ends of the U-shaped building, facing the street, seem to be mostly raw concrete.  The interior of the U is leavened by the balcony railings.  But the centerpiece of the building--the mass of concrete that apparently feeds underground garages--took us by storm.

Ground level shops, now mostly abandoned, swallowed
by the concrete pit.

It's both Brutalist and brutal--one of the ugliest interior courtyards ever designed.  The architect expected that the space just above the parking area--the ground floor of the apartments--would be lined with shops.  But they're mostly gone, victims of that concrete pit below.

According to one source, Brutalist structures often express in the most obvious way "the main functions and people flows of the buildings."  That's what is happening here. From the street one can see where people live, where they are expected to shop, and--especially in this case--where they'll park.

RST would like to thank "Mr. X" for his comment; for helping us work out some of the issues; for getting us into two interesting and seldom-visited neighborhoods, both remarkably close to central Rome; and for leading us to that new wine bar.  Now if only we can find the Questura.

Bill

R.B. Kitaj and "The Rise of Fascism"

The painting below, by American-born London artist R.B. Kitaj (1932-2007), is part of the "London Calling" exhibit--featuring 6 London artists--at The Getty Center in Los Angeles.  It was loaned for this exhibition from London's Tate.  This excellent exhibition's last day is Sunday (November 13).

A work of the late 1970s, Kitaj's painting is titled "The Rise of Fascism."
According to the curator of the show, Kitaj explained the painting in a 1980 letter: the central bather is the Fascist, the bather on the left is the beautiful victim, and the bather on the right is the ordinary European, "watching it all happen."

The fuselage of a bomber enters the frame upper left.
Patricia Zohn of The Huffington Post says "'London Calling' is just about perfection and should not be missed."

Bill

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Quadraro: Street Art Center of Rome's Southeast

In the piece above, street artist Mauro Maupal depicts an unhappy she-wolf, biting her tail over the departure of her adopted children, Romulus and Remus--the mythic founders of Rome--each with a roller-bag, headed for what they imagine to be cities of greater opportunity, or perhaps more cultural depth: Berlin, Dublin, London, and Paris.  (The title "esodati" suggests the artist's own, somewhat different interpretation; it refers to workers penalized by the 2011 Italian pension reform, here seeking cheaper European destinations).

Buff baby with Mickey, by Ron English

We wouldn't begrudge anyone an artistic residency in Berlin, especially, but Rome has recently become a world center of wall-size street art, and Quadraro, incredibly, is one of its key nodes.  The Romulus and Remus piece is just one of many (at least 15, as many as 30) street art productions in this near-in suburb just southeast  of the city, with a small-town feel, that spans both sides of the busy Via Tuscolana,  Most, though not all, of Quadraro's open-air art collection is located on the east side of that major thoroughfare, and a substantial portion is concentrated within a few blocks.  You'll see a lot in half an hour and feel more than satisfied after just an hour of strolling.

We would begin with the short tunnel that goes under Via Tuscolana between Via Decio Mure (on the west) and Via Lentuli (on the east).  The west end features a big mouth, teeth and all, sucking in street signs, plants, umbrellas, dishes, whatever--into what used to be blackness (the interior of the tunnel is now white, perhaps to encourage pedestrians, who might otherwise be intimidated by the darkness).  The artist is Mr. Thoms.  The other side of the tunnel isn't quite so powerful.

Tunnel attracts locals

Now on the east side of the highway, the supporting wall for Via Tuscolana offers an array of worthy art.  Dilko's girl--the one with mini-mouse ears--attracted our attention.  Colors go in one ear, black and white (and hardware of various kinds) out the other.  She 's got something in her hand that she seems to be cranking, but what it is we don't know.  We also liked one of the minor pieces, a rough-cut look at a mouse and the hole he lives in--just to the Dilko girl's right.  .

Channeling Modigliani 

The neighborhood in back is full of surprises, all within a few blocks, including Jim Avignon's sensuous, and mostly undressed, woman done in 1930 style (on Via Dei Pisoni); a bulked-up, ripped, green baby surrounded by popular culture icons, including Mickey in a gas mask; and some frogs gorging themselves on what appear to be glass beads but may have some link to computer programming, given the ones and zeros on the banner above; a lovely new-age design, anchored by a tree; and "The Departure of Romulus and Remus," with which we opened this post.  .

Somewhere on our trek (wish we could remember where!) we came across a large map--once apparently distributed--with locations and artists of some of the works.  For what it's worth, here it is. The Xs mark the location of art works.  You can also locate the works using the app: streetartroma (also listed in the app store as Streetart Rome).   The app is much better than the web site, and you can use the app is quite understandable as a map - and it's in English.

Street artist Alessandro Sardella decorated the facade of an automobile repair shop.

Bill

Finding a link to Rome in a Sienese Renaissance painter - The gold of Giovanni di Paolo

The Rome connection here is a bit of a stretch, but the art of Giovanni di Paolo (1399-1482)-  currently the feature of an exhibition at The Getty Center in Los Angeles - is so astounding, I couldn’t pass up writing about it.

Giovanni di Paolo’s 1427 altarpiece for the Branchini Chapel in Siena is deservedly considered his masterpiece.  Even the jewels in Mary’s crown are still intact.  The gold that di Paolo, primarily a manuscript illuminator, distributes in this central panel of the altarpiece warrants the title of the exhibition, “The Shimmer of Gold.” 

Note jewels in Mary's crown.

The painting (above, top), and one smaller one that likely was part of the altarpiece, belong to the Norton Simon Museum in nearby Pasadena.  The Getty is exhibiting it, and several other related pieces owned by the Siena Pinacoteca and a Dutch museum, because of its work in restoring the work.  The Getty shows us the various pieces together and speculates how they might have been mounted in the San Domenico church.

The shimmer of the gold is impossible to ignore
(photo taken by Bill at The Getty Center).

The exhibition takes note of di Paolo’s influences, particularly the “master” Gentile da Fabriano, with whom some suggest di Paolo may have worked on the altarpiece.  And, now, for the Rome connection.  The name Gentile da Fabriano rang a bell with us, not because we know so much about Renaissance art, but because we have lived in a Rome apartment that is on Piazza Gentile da Fabriano.  

Piazza Gentile da Fabriano is across the Tevere at the end of
Ponte della Musica - the large, treed piazza in the center of
this photo (taken from Lo Zodiaco on Monte Mario).

Rome’s neighborhoods beyond the Centro are marked by thematic street and piazza names.  This neighborhood, Flaminio, features names of artists. We have lived nearby on via Pietro da Cortona.  And I wanted to rent an apartment one time simply because it was on via Masaccio, a painter I studied in college.  The art museum MAXXI's address, for another example, is viale Guido Reni.  Da Fabriano did set foot in Rome, unlike his student di Paolo.  Da Fabriano, who was from Northern Italy but also worked in Siena, where he influenced di Paolo, painted in the nave of Rome's San Giovanni in Laterano, paintings destroyed in a 1600s’ “restoration” of that basilica.  Da Fabriano died in Rome, and there is evidence he might be buried in Santa Maria in Trastevere.  That’s it – the tenuous Rome connection of Giovanni di Paolo through his mentor Gentile da Fabriano.

Gentile da Fabriano's The Coronation of the Virgin, about 1420, The J. Paul Getty Museum

Meanwhile, if you are in LA, don’t miss this lovely, small, beautifully curated exhibition that is on until January 8, 2017.  And if you can’t make it in person, there are photos of the works, and reproduction of the explanatory panels online.

The Shimmer of Gold:Giovanni di Paolo in Renaissance Siena, publishedonline 2016, the J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, California.

Dianne

Deaths on 2 Wheels and 2 Feet - Warnings of the Perils of Getting Around Rome

"On the streets of Rome, 25% of the deaths are motorcyclists."

This LED display is one that never ceases to disturb me as we (motor)cycle around Rome.  Bluntly stated, it cites the statistic that 25% of deaths on the streets of Rome are of those who ride 2-wheelers. "Motociclisti" here includes we scooter riders.  Bear in mind, scooters can be quite large - up to 600cc.  Audrey and Gregory rode a 50cc Vespa.

It's not just riders, though.  Pedestrians are similarly warned:

The translation here:  In Rome in 2014, 45 pedestrians were killed and 1800 injured.  As Bill recently wrote about walking around Rome, "You can walk, but they can kill you."

Just don't be looking up at these signs while driving.  I took the one below while on the back of our 250cc Malaguti scooter.  Bill has never seen one of these signs - his eyes are on the road.

Dianne