the palazzo

 

The line “It sounds real classy living in a chateau” from the punk rock band The Tubes' 1977 hit song “White Punks on Dope” could apply to me. I live in a 16th century palazzo in Rome. People immediately have visions of opulence and frescoed ceilings. But not this palazzo. I live in Trastevere, the other side of the river, or metaphorically, the other side of the tracks. Traditionally it's been the working class district. The only fine palazzo I can think of over here, apart from a few ecclesiastical buildings, is Palazzo Corsini, originally built near the end of the 15th century by a Cardinal Riario, brother to the Pope at the time and father of the future Pope Julius II (of Michelangelo fame). Later the property was acquired and renovated by Queen Christina of Sweden who converted to Christianity and settled in Rome. In the 18th century it was bought by the Corsini family, and retains their name today. Across the street from Palazzo Corsini is the fabulously luxurious Villa Farnesina built by the incredibly rich Agostino Chigi in the early 16th century, who happened to be Pope Julius II's banker. These properties, though are not technically in Trastevere. They are outside the City walls, just beyond the Porta Septimiana on the road leading to the Vatican. But I digress...

Palazzo Leoni-Pizzirani is in the literal heart of Trastevere, forming one side of the major piazza, facing the antique and venerable Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Originally built in the 4th century, the Basilica was reconstructed in its present form in the 12th century and gussied up in the 17th and 19th centuries. The monumental columns pilfered from the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla and the mosaics by Pietro Cavallini from all those centuries ago still remain intact to this day. The via Aurelia, one of the great consular roads of ancient Rome (constructed circa 240 BC) delineates another side of the piazza which has existed here pretty much the same since before the time of Caesar.

By the early 1600's a clump of 5 buildings on the east side of the piazza had coalesced into the nascent Palazzo built by the Cesarini family, their avatar the eagle (a rather skinny specimen it might be noted, but I guess things weren't as fat back then) still spreads its wings above the main and only entrance. The bestiary continues inside on the piano nobile with a lion's head on the crest of the Leoni family who acquired the palazzo in the 18th century. In 1778 this main floor (piano nobile) was occupied by the newly established “Venerabile Conservatorio di S Giuseppe”, a “Conservatorio delle Pericolanti” or conservatory for those in danger, meaning young girls. 42 of them under the age of 18 were housed here, and you can guess the dangers. Rome was a very rough town. The 19th century saw the palazzo pass to the Pizzirani family who added the top floor to the building, and still own the building today.

The neighborhood has suffered significantly over the past years from gentrification. One by one (with a few exceptions) stores for local needs have become more upscale stores for the tourist trade. The palazzo has resisted this trend, retaining its grittiness, but change is infiltrating here too. As long time residents have died or moved away, the vacant apartments are restructured and modernized, the old cotta tiles laid in red and black patterns are replaced with fake wood laminate floors, and rented out as Airbnb. In 2015 the exterior was cleaned of a century+ of grime and repainted. A team of restorers descended one day on the stairwell wearing hazmat suits and pre-covid n95 masks and with surgical precision removed discreet layers of paint to reveal the colors of centuries past. Beneath the current beige and brown is a forgotten palette of creams, pale blue and even some reddish-orange. Still, the place retains its forgotten Old Rome feel.

It is that forgotten authenticity that appeals to me. It is the past, not a sanitized version of the past. Up and down the well worn grand staircase to the piano nobile has, I realize, inspired me on a subconscious level. The erosion of the stonework, the repairs, the suturing of materials to replace what was lost has crept into my work as a visual doppelganger of my daily ascent and descent. My experience has been made manifest.

Not content with with subconscious interactions, I occasionally engage in physical interactions with the space. I admit, I have treated the space as my playground, wondering my “if” out loud, not particularly caring if the neighbors are listening. Its just a little more grime added to the centuries.

post script: after a weekend of installing and photographing my drawings in and around the public spaces I heard a very loud voice in the stairwell speaking to the caretaker. I assumed the speaker was Pizzirani himself, heir to the palazzo. My drawings were gone. Outside the palazzo was a notice of an upcoming meeting of The Committee for Life in Trastevere aggressively taped to the door. Item number 4 on the agenda to be discussed was “street artists”. Not sure if that was a good sign or not...

END

Lei Feng - culturally appropriate

Artist development classes always suggest that besides a resume and a bio an artist should have what is called an “elevator pitch” - a prepared 30 second description of your artistic practice. My pitch (even though no one has ever asked what I do whilst in an elevator) states in part that my work revolves around deconstructing cultural narratives. In China, that narrative has involved Lei Feng, hero of the Cultural Revolution.

Lei Feng (1940-1962) posthumously became the poster boy for the Chinese Communist Party when in 1963 Mao declared that all should learn from Comrade Lei Feng. His diary was published, photos of him performing good deeds appeared (complete with harsh stage lighting) and school children sang songs about him. He was the perfect Hero minted for turbulent times. He was an orphan, available for every mother to desire and protect as her own. His cupid's bow lips made every schoolgirl swoon, his work as a mechanic driving a truck in the People's Liberation Army was the envy of every schoolboy. He had the rare combination of both compassion and political fervor. He extolled the virtues of Mao and the Communist Party and he darned his comrade's socks and helped old ladies in the rain. Like all good Heroes, he died young before the cynicism of old age set in – although his death was a bit unusual... He was directing a truck to back up which hit a telephone pole that fell upon his  head and killed him. 

"I Want To Be A Rustless Screw"  (Lei Feng diary entry) 
Christopher Pelley  temporary installation  Beijing

One of the earliest images of China I remember was back in the late 60's, early 70's, when China was always referred to as Red China. It was a photo in the local newspaper of a low brick building covered with sheets of paper with large Chinese characters written on them. This was the height of the terror that was the Cultural Revolution and these were public denunciations. Memories of that grainy newspaper image stirred when I ended up in a village outside of Beijing in 2014 seeing buildings of a style reminiscent of that old photo. So began the journey connecting my youthful impressions of Red China with the modern country existing within the not-to-be-mentioned long shadow of the cultural revolution. Lei Feng became the protagonist, the vehicle to unravel what I saw.

The image and message of the good deeds and fealty of Lei Feng has been revived by the Communist Party leadership may times over the intervening half century. The public views the little soldier either negatively as a top down heavy handed production of the propaganda machine or he is embraced in the enduring allure of the hero myth. I appropriated not only his image but also the propaganda tropes and used culturally significant materials to navigate my Chinese experience.

      

advert for exhibition at 東西projects       

In an old building in Shangyuan Village, Beijing I opened 東西projects, a curatorial projects space where I freely referenced the imagery of the Cultural Revolution

東西projects space, Beijing

Christopher Pelley  "Lei Feng Coal Dust"

Christopher Pelley  "Chinese Characteristics #3"

oil/canvas, string

Christopher Pelley  "Red Star w/ Rice Sparrow"

spent fire cracker papers, rice

As I write this blog post I am in Rome, surrounded by the debris that informed my Catholic youth. Everywhere is the imagery of hands pointing accusingly up to heaven or down to hell. The martyrs, whose lives were snuffed out by the most brutal of means – burnings, beheadings, fed to wild beasts – are portrayed in graphic detail on ceilings and walls at every turn. As a boy I would have much preferred dreaming of a young man, not much older than myself, working on motors and driving trucks than contemplating the psycho-sadistic terrors brought upon the christian faithful. But that, dear reader, is another narrative to be deconstructed.

La Fornarina

When I see two disparate objects, I like to ask what is the connection? That's just the way I am. That's how my mind works, always trying to find the relationships, trying to make sense and order out of my daily chaos.

Piazza di Sant' Apollonia is a tiny piazza in the Trastevere section of Rome, where the church and attached convent of Sant' Apollonia, now long since gone, once existed. The urban fabric retains the name and an apartment block built in 1888 incorporates remnants and follows the footprint of the demolished convent and church. When I moved into an apartment in the Palazzo Leoni-Pizzirani which looms over the diminutive piazza, there were a few items left behind by the previous tenant. One item, lone on a shelf, was a bag of flour.

As I unpacked and settled in, organizing, sorting and arranging the space, my mind, that ever restless extension of self, fretted unsettled over this bag of flour and its relationship to the piazza below me.

They say that Raphael fell in love with a baker's daughter who lived in the neighborhood – maybe on Vicolo del Cedro, maybe on Via di Santa Dorotea, while working on a commission decorating the filthy rich 1%er Agostini Chigi's Villa Farnesina a couple hundred meters away.

Raphael  "La Fornarina"

Raphael was obsessed with her. He painted her portrait. The eyes are twinkling, hesitant to make direct contact with the viewer, the lips are full with just a twitch of a knowing smile. The shoulders and breasts are bare, a diaphanous whatever held without conviction between her right hand and the left breast which she gently fingers, falls with a few cascading folds over her naked tummy. The rich coral colored dress has slumped from the upper half of her body, clumping around the waist. Her legs, the only things concealed by the voluminous folds, are slightly parted, her hand resting on her pudenda with fingers splayed, pushing apart the folds in what can only be construed as a beckoning gesture. Yes, it is as I described it... it's 16th century porn.

They say that Chigi was so exasperated that Raphael kept skipping out to dally with the baker's daughter, that he had her installed at the Villa. There is also a tradition that says that Raphael had rooms in the little piazza outside my door. The whirlwind romance did not last for long. Within a year, Raphael was dead at the age of 37. The baker's daughter “retired” to the convent of Sant' Apollonia where she lived out her life in the cloister.

My mind relaxed. Like an Umberto Eco novel, it had found connection and meaning between place and thing. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly for those of you who believe nothing is completely random) the connection goes farther than a bag of flour and the baker's daughter. There was at the time of Raphael a tiny church in the piazza dedicated to San Cristoforo, my namesake and patron saint. That church was demolished when Sant' Apollonia was rebuilt and enlarged in 1582, but an ancient fresco of Christopher was saved and lingered on in the new complex.

Armed with this knowledge I was motivated to take action. I used the bag of flour to remember La Fornarina in the piazza. In the end though, like the church and convent, all was swept away.

Pelley  "La Fornarina" in Piazza di S Apollonia

Pelley  "La Fornarina"

Pelley  "La Fornarina" selfie

end

 

A Damnatio Memoriae for the Digital Age

In a courtyard of the Capitoline Museum in Rome are remnants of a monumental sculpture of  Emperor Constantine.  Clumped together in no particular order are bits of a colossal marble arm, a leg, a knee, feet that dwarf us mere mortals, a hand pointing heavenward and a head with its massive eyeballs focused far above and beyond you.  The fragments, disconcerting as they are, start to reveal a deeper secret as you wander around them.  The extremities are very naturalistic - the feeling of veins muscle and tissue are coaxed from the marble.  But that iconic head is, well, iconic.  It is stiff and stylised.  The hair is suggested with the most rudimentary carving.  And the proportions seem a little out of whack. It doesn't look like it belongs with the other body parts.  Something happened way back when.   

Back when in the 3rd century AD, the unending political chaos of the Roman Empire ultimately lead to the formation of a new power sharing structure between Diocletian (ruled 284-305) and Maximian (ruled 286-305) called the Tetrarchy which for awhile brought stability.  But the planned orderly succession of power upon their joint abdication did not go so orderly and rapidly devolved back into chaos and ultimately a civil war between Maxentius, who controlled Italy and the African provinces and Constantine who controlled Britain, Gaul, Spain and the Rhineland.  While Constantine was busy trying to consolidate support up north, Maxentius began and extensive building program in Rome to win the "hearts and minds" of the population and restore the status of the ancient capitol.  He built large and luxuriously.  He restored the Hadrianic era Temple of Venus and Roma which had been destroyed by fire, built an enormous new basilica in the Roman Forum and began a new bath complex on the Quirinal hill.  On October 28 in the year 312, Maxentius exited his newly fortified walls of Rome to confront Constantine in the final battle for power at Milvian Bridge, just north of the city.  The outcome irrevocably changed history.  (Maxentius lost).  Following his victory, Constantine did all he could to wipe the defeated adversary's name from the memory of the city's inhabitants.  A Damnatio Memoriae was enacted.

Damnatio Memoriae is the dishonor of memory where traces of the offending individual were rubbed out - literally and figuratively.  It was the cancel culture of the ancient world.  Maxentius was not the first to be hit with this decree, nor was he the last; just another in a long line.  Septimius Severus was to co-rule with his brother, Geta, but that didn't work out.  Septimius had Geta murdered within a year of acquiring power and all images of his sibling were chiseled out of existence, leaving some unusual "gaps" in the physical record.  Marcus Aurelius did the same to his adoptive brother and co-emperor, Lucius Verus. The bronze colossus that once stood next to the Flavian Amphitheater (now known by the generic name of colosseum) was originally a statue of Nero residing within the confines of his Domus Aurea.  After the "unexpected" death of that emperor, and the subsequent official decree of damnatio memoriae, the bronze colossus was moved a few hundred yards, underwent some changes to the head, and was thus transformed into a statue of Apollo that served as an ornament to the newly built arena.  

Severan family portrait (with face of Geta removed)

The discordant head of Constantine at the Capitoline Museum has a similar story.  The enormous statue was actually of Maxentius housed in the enormous basilica he built.  A quick recarving of the head after Maxentius' defeat and it was now Constantine who presided over the basilica.

The events of the last months of the Trump administration made me think of the machinations and jockeying for power of imperial wannabes in late antiquity.  I began to wonder if the decree of Damnatio Memoriae had any resonance today.  Then Corporate America stepped in:

As a post script, Representative Joaquin Castro has introduced legislation to ban Trump's name from being used on federal property.

Sancta Prepuce

Two words:  Conspiracy Theories.  No matter how outrageous, how convoluted or how devoid of analytical thought, our country is gripped by them them.  They are the currency of today.  Internet fame is conferred upon those that peddle them.  Media empires are built upon amplifying them, and then they re-enforce them through endless repetition for fear of loosing market share.  Well, I have my own conspiracy theory and it centers around today's Feast of the Holy Circumcision (January 1st) and one questionable relic.  

Relics were the conspiracy theories of the middle ages.  They were actively traded and monetised; they brought wealth and prestige to the churches and abbeys that housed them. They were engines of economic growth.  Beyond the mundane bits of bone and fragments of the true cross, there were many more outlandish ones including milk from the breast of the Virgin Mary, along with her belt that she inadvertently left behind when she ascended into heaven.  There was also the manger that the baby Jesus was placed in and the lance that pierced his side.  Possibly the most peculiar relic, and the one that my conspiracy theory revolves around, is the Sancta Prepuce, or the foreskin of Jesus.  Jesus, born a Jew, would have been circumcised 8 days after birth.

December 25, in the year 800, Charlemagne, King of the Frankish kingdoms, was crowned Emperor of the Romans by Pope Leo III in St Peter's in Rome.  Among the gifts Charlemagne gave to Pope Leo was a small alabaster box that contained, preserved in oil, the foreskin of Jesus.  Where Charlemagne acquired this peculiar item is not known, but once in his possession, Leo III placed it in his private chapel in the medieval Lateran Palace, the Sancta Sanctorum, with other priceless relics and there it stayed for the following 700 years.  During the Sack of Rome in 1527 it was looted.  Later that year, a German mercenary was captured in Calcata with the precious relic which was then transferred to the village church.

Calcata is an ancient medieval town perched precariously atop volcanic cliffs 47 km north of Rome.  With the foreskin now housed in its church, it became a popular pilgrimage destination complete with a 10 year indulgence offered to pilgrims who made the trek there.  Each year on January 1st, the Feast of the Holy Circumcision, the relic was paraded around town.  Until 1983.  That is when he parish priest Dario Magnoni announced to the village that the Sancta Prepuce had vanished. Stolen. Gone.  But no police report was ever filed.

For most of the preceding century, the Papal authority had questioned and sought to suppress the veracity of the Holy Foreskin.  By 1900 citing "irreverent curiosity", the importance of the relic was downplayed,.  Soon after, even mentioning the Sancta Prepuce could lead to excommunication.  In 1960 as part of Pope John XXIII's liturgical calendar revisions, January 1st was renamed the Octave of the Nativity, no longer explicitly mentioning the circumcision.  In 1969 the name was changed  again to the Feast of the Solemnity of Mary, effectively erasing the connection to the foreskin.  But still, Calcata persisted.

So why did this tradition which spanned hundreds of years come to an abrupt end in 1983?  

Here is my Q-anon worthy theory.  In the 1970's a rapid sequencing technique for DNA was developed.  By the early 1980's this technology was established and reputable enough to be used in court cases to secure a conviction.  In 1982 Delacorte Press published a book by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh and Henry Lincoln, which became a New York Times best seller.  The book, Holy Blood, Holy Grail, put forth the idea of a bloodline of Jesus and Mary Magdalene.  It is an idea that Dan Brown would later employ as the storyline for his explosive and phenomenally popular book, The DaVinci Code. 

Now there was the real possibility that Christianity could be brought to its knees - if the DNA of the Sancta Prepuce could be sequenced and a bloodline of Jesus could be identified, that would throw into doubt the divinity and divine origins of Christ.  All would collapse like a house of cards.  The Vatican had to act, and act fast.  The wealth, power and prestige of the Church was threatened.  The ancient relic was made to disappear.

Today Calcata is a quirky quiet little village, still clinging to the rocky outcropping.  In 2015, I decided to post drawings of prepuce around the town in homage to its past.

Me Too

The presidency of Donald Trump has polarised our nation.  But his toxic brand has served to clarify and amplify the distinction between an entrenched misogynistic and racist culture and those of us that believe in a broader sense of equality and justice for all.  He has made (many) of us look a little closer at our thoughts, actions and even our collective histories.  This process has spun way beyond the first pussy hat marches in the opening days of this administration and the sustained Black Lives Matter protests going on now.  It has spread to cultural institutions, thanks to the DeColonise This Place protests and even into academia.  Corporate America, whose only interest has always been the financial bottom line, is being forced to join this conversation.

In Rome I have a continuing guerrilla billboard campaign in support of the Me Too movement.  It was not difficult to find images to serve as the literal poster child for #Me Too.  Doing this project has changed me.  There is a new awareness of how deep, profound and across the board abuse and victimisation of women is in the canon of western art.  I now look at the artworks differently than I did as an undergraduate sitting in a darkened lecture hall watching slides projected on a screen. 

There are ramifications to art history.  As I was writing this post, Congressman Ted Yoho called Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez a, and I refuse to repeat the vulgarity, literally behind her back on the steps of the US Capitol.  In his forced faux apology in the House, Yoho said, and I quote, "no one was accosted, bullied or attacked".

 

Christopher Pelley  #Me Too  Rome

Christopher Pelley  #Me Too   Rome

Christopher Pelley  #Me Too   Rome

Christopher Pelley   #Me Too   Rome

The good news: change happens.  Congressman Yoho will not be seeking re-election in the fall.

Chinese Characteristics

In the northern hemisphere water circles clockwise before continuing its journey down the drain.  In the southern hemisphere I am told it circles counterclockwise before descending.

Culturally the East and the West reflect a similar polarity.  Structures of everyday life are conceptually organised in opposite ways.

In the West, writing is organised in lines from the top of the page to the bottom going from left to right. Traditionally in the East writing was composed in columns descending from the top to the bottom of the page and organised right to left across the page. Clay roof tiles in the West are laid in convex courses and in the East the courses are laid in a concave fashion. Even royal colors are opposites – western royalty wore purple and imperial chinese wore yellow.  The West prefers organising geographies from smaller to larger: street, city, province, and China prefers larger to smaller organisation: province, city, street.  The polarity continues to even the way time is conceptually ordered, which seems to present endless confusion with translation software. The West considers the past to be below (ie we build upon the past) and the future is above. Chinese express the past as SHANG 上  (above or on top of) and the future is XIA 下 (under or below). 

Sometimes I wonder if somewhere in the world there is a place that water does not circle to the left or to the right, but effortlessly and without hesitation continues a leisurely journey to its destination.

My work in China references this distinct cultural narrative.  Here are a few paintings that I did last year in my studio outside of Beijing.

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #1

mixed  media / canvas  135cm x 120cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #2

mixed media / canvas   135cm x 175cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #3

mixed  media / canvas   170cm x 130cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #5

mixed  media / canvas  150cm x 130cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #6

mixed  media / canvas   115cm x 80cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #7

mixed  media / canvas   105cm x 95cm

Christopher Pelley   Chinese Characteristics #8

mixed  media / canvas   100cm x 90cm