Residencies Revisited - Buon Giorno, Noepoli
COVID-19 has made a mockery of my residency plans this year. 5 of my residencies have been postponed indefinitely. I’m not going to lie, it makes me mad. I’d even say I’m crawling out of my skin at times not being able to plan art/travel possibilities in the near future.
But as we all know, things could be much, much worse. And so we accept the times, do our part in keeping our exposure/contact down, and get on with things as best we can.
So to satisfy my wanderlust I’m looking back at some of my previous residencies, adding stories and more details about my experiences so as to give you a fuller understanding about how varied and unique is each residency. The quotations are my original written thoughts in my journal on arrival.
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PALAZZO RINALDI, NOEPOLI, ITALY JULY 2009
A view of ancient Noepoli, Italy, from a neighboring peak. ©Amy Guion Clay 2009
“Across the valley I am incredulous at the sight of Noepoli, so I rub my eyes and look again. But there it remains. A beatific vision of history, tradition, an organic human expression of millenia layered up and over this mountain top. Things carry on as they always will, and I have landed like an alien from some distant future star.”
This was only my second ever residency, so I had little understanding of how each residency would be as unique an experience as the people I would meet along the way.
I had flown into Naples and boarded the bus southbound for Senise in the Basilicata region in the arch of Italy’s boot; 4 hours driving south and then inland through dramatic lush green mountains.
“There has been great effort to traverse the ups and downs of this landscape with a series of tunnels and bridges (best not to look down), so we go almost as the crow flies, without bothering with the uneven topography of the mountains and valleys.”
Pina, Rafaelle and Susanna in the door way of their home.
Me, feeling part of the family almost immediately.
“I am greeted in the town of Senise by my smiling hosts, Susanna and her father, Rafaelle, who quickly scoop me and my belongings into the car and deliver me to their family home, Palazzo Rinaldi, in the tiny hilltop hamlet of Noepoli.
With a population of 1200 residents and a history dating to the 7th century BC (Greek), I am willingly transported to another time, where villages grew up and out of mountaintops and despite the wifi technology, change comes slowly and organically, if at all.”
The narrow lane where the home is wedged. The door to the left is the entrance into the palazzo.
“Their home sits at the very top of the west facing side of the mountain village, so I am blessed with the sunset view from my terrace. And although recently updated, they have maintained all the original furnishings and wooden door latches that make me feel like I am going to walk through a wardrobe (i.e. Narnia) any moment and enter some strange and magical fairyland.
In fact i have done just that.”
View of the surrounding hills and valleys from my balcony. ©Amy Guion Clay 2009
Time is at a walking pace here - two legs, not four wheels being the most efficient mode of transport in this narrow vertical hamlet. From my street level atelier, I hear the unwavering sounds of Noepoli - the tempo of life unchanged for centuries.
My subterranean atelier is cool and dark in the summer heat. The window high above my table is at street level, with a wide meshed screen. I listen to the deep sounds of the village. The cheese merchant shouts “MOZZarella fresca!” over the megaphone to all who care. The slow shuffle of the old men and the dull click of the canes on the cobblestones - this is an elderly town, be it known, as most of the young have left to make their livings elsewhere.”
My partially submerged studio was at street level, so I could hear the goings on of this ancient village.
“The village men gather nearby to argue, debate, make rhetorical comments and jostle for some kind of machismo dominance of know-it-all and volume. It is hard to know if they are angry, happy or just loud, emphatically making their opinions known. I don’t need to know what they are saying, I think it doesn’t matter to them either - it’s a way of staying connected to this ancient culture, to the stories, to the stone alleys, to their fellow villagers.”
Unselfconscious weathered doors - beauty in the decay.
Pentimenti of the walls - if they could talk.
After finding the lay of the land, It didn’t take long before I was lusting to get started with my work. I walked everywhere, sponging up the intimate details of this ancient village, the palimpsest of centuries. There was a small local museum with photos that cross sectioned the years, and I was able to make copies of the images - of the resident people, their animals, the buildings, the past, to use later in my paintings.
2 old folded photos found in the local museum - these images
have shown up repeatedly in future projects also.
“I begin to break it down - into small samplings of faces and places that were and are Noepoli. From the well loved objects patinated in my surrogate home, to the vertiginous views of the ancient alleyways, I draw and paint from my own outsiders perspective, linking past and present in a continuous glimpse of life in this southern Italian village.”
Small paintings and drawings of life around Noepoli, mounted on a plank of old growth wood salvaged from the next door renovation. One of 2 assembled works on planks. Sadly I wasn’t able to ship the wooden planks home - treasures!
Because I was on a year long journey, I was very conscious of my physical load. I try to travel light whenever possible, so I chose to work on smaller paper that could be combined to create larger pieces. This way of working has served me well over the years, helping me to avoid the additional cost of hefty shipping charges at the end of the residency.
The painting below uses varying sizes of paper to make a large composite image of Noepoli seen from across the valley. I then mounted it on a larger sheet of heavy paper (on which I scribbled stories and memories of my experience) to be exhibited in my upcoming show in the village. Afterward, the painting could easily be disassembled and shipped back home. I’m nothing if not practical when it comes to my travel budget!
A large assembled painting of Noepoli. ©Amy Guion Clay 2009
But my stay in Noepoli was not all about the visuals. No time in Italy is complete without tasting it’s culinary delights! I was blessed with my hostess being a master chef in her own right. Not much of a cook myself, I was an eager student to her generous tuition, clumsy but a captive audience and put to use with some simple tasks:
Making gnocchi.
The art of cooking is alive and well in this family household, as I sat witness to my hostess, Pina, making gnocchi pasta by hand. As she kneaded the dough with "calm, patience and love", we shared stories on relationships, as women do.
I was given the task of rolling the small pieces of potato pasta along a ridged tool, to give the sauce something to cling to, which made me feel useful, if not awkward in my clumsy efforts to get it right.
But to be educated in the ways of joyful cooking, by a true Italian "mama", in this faraway Italian village, inspires me to approach food in the same way i do my painting, with trust, intuition and presence.”
All of that scrumptious cooking and eating however was not without it’s effects:
“After another breakfast feast, I say to mama Pina that I will get fat if I stay here any longer - she says, “yes, you are a little fatter than when you came. Then, you were pale and thin, but now you are fatter and have more color in your face!” She sounds pleased. And instead of wanting to rush off to the nearest gym (there are none), I settle into my new “fatness” with the appreciation of my plumped out lines and the joyous abundance of life - mangia!”
The vertical walkways and stairs everywhere.
Easy to keep up a cardio workout in this village.
My final gesture was to exhibit my work in the local town hall for the villagers. This was set up and organized by my hosts.
Because very few of the residents spoke English, I also chose to have a slideshow of my photos and share some of my experiences of my time in their village (stories translated by my hosts).
There were moments of sudden animation when they saw themselves or their families’ imagery translated into the final paintings.
I was struck by how much we all want to be seen, and as an outsider, I was able to enter their world and reflect back my appreciation for this timeless culture and authentic community.
Over the years, I would come to realize that this was a truly unique residency, because I was invited to live with a local family that embraced me, however briefly, as their own. This is not typical. I was living in their ancestral home, with their well loved objects and heirlooms that were passed through the generations. There are few occasions when this would be an available option to anyone, especially an artist on the roam. Another example of how residencies offer so many opportunities to experience PLACE in unexpected ways.
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POSTSCRIPT - Sadly, this residency closed a few years ago, after many years of inviting artists into their home. It is not uncommon for residencies to open and close depending on the resources and life changes that hosts encounter through the years. If there is a residency that you have been lusting after, I suggest you jump on it!
To learn more about artist residencies, you can check out my online course which goes over everything you need to know! Click the link below for more info: