ALDO CASTELLI AS A CERAMIST

An event at the St. Augustin Cultural Hub
shines a light on Aldo Castelli’s role in the new flowering
of ceramic art in Ascoli between 1920 and 1930

— by Simonetta Castelli —

The event’s flyer

A few months ago, while the staging of the exhibition “With Earth and with Fire” was underway and the related catalog was about to go to press, I met with Luisa Alleva at her house to peruse through materials found in the precious archives of the Matricardi family. In addition to sharing family ties, we also share a passion for the brilliant artistic heritage of Ascoli’s majolica art and an awareness of the important role that the historic Matricardi Manufactures and the SPADA society played in it. It was on this occasion that, with the splendid serendipity that often accompanies so many of the most exciting discoveries, we stumbled upon the first of a chain of exciting clues related to the origins of the artistic society called “S.P.A.D.A.”, to this day still very scarcely documented. The acronym itself has an uncertain origin; we could not find any conclusive information about it, but based on the trends of the time in comparable denominations of similar companies, I would venture that it stood for “Società Per le Arti Decorative Ascolane” (Society for the Decorative Arts of Ascoli).

Funded mainly by Giuseppe Bracciolani (who also made available the premises of one of his properties in Via del Lago) and by other bold and generous personalities from Ascoli who loved art, the “S.P.A.D.A.” turned out to be an ephemeral and unprofitable venture from an entrepreneurial point of view, but it left us objects of rare beauty, with bizarre and exquisite shapes and decorations, and obtained with very daring techniques that were undoubtedly rather avant-garde for the time.

Little is known about how the SPADA was born; besides its well-known artistic founders – Aldo Castelli and Umberto Bellotto – and the “Patron” Bracciolani, it is hinted that other emerging artists collaborated, at least occasionally and in its initial phases; but no proof has ever been found in the various official archives that might shed light on their identity. Now, for decades my family had kept a handwritten letter, composed of various sheets and addressed to “Dear Bracciolani,” in which Aldo was mentioned and specific and well-detailed advice was given, complete with explanatory vignettes, on techniques and materials to be used for the decoration of high-fire majolicas. Unfortunately, the last sheet and the signature were missing, and in my house we had been racking our brains for years making conjectures on who could possibly be the author of the letter, who even seemed to be a person actively involved and deeply involved in the creative processes of the nascent SPADA Manufacture.

As mentioned above, from a first hypothesis very casually thrown there, a whole series of discoveries unfolded – some purely accidental, others the result of a tenacious and passionate research undertaken with enthusiasm by Luisa and me, with equally tenacious and passionate contributions given remotely by my sister and my brother – that led us to confirm that the author of the letter was without a doubt the Roman ceramist and artist Renzo Cellini, whom Aldo had befriended during his years of artistic training in Rome; and from this discovery other deductions have come forth, supported by solid and clear evidence, which lead us to think that the Roman years had a much more significant impact on Aldo’s formation as a ceramist than it had been assumed up to now.

Aldo Castelli (lower left), holding a vase decorated with the familiar Faun motif;
Renzo Cellini (center, standing) is holding two vases with similar decorations

For other majolica works
by Aldo Castelli, click HERE

I must give credit to dear Stefano De Martis, a well-known Roman journalist and passionate lover of artistic ceramics, for having unwittingly set this chain of discoveries in motion. It was he who pointed out an error in the caption of a photo, published here on the site, in which Aldo was portrayed together with other artists (most likely at a ceramic art exhibition). Standing beside him is Renzo Cellini; and for some unfathomable reason (and this is where that serendipity I was talking about comes into play) that afternoon at Luisa’s house I ventured that maybe it could have been him – a few years older than Aldo and with already consolidated experience in the field of majolica – to write that letter full of expert advice. The clues multiplied, and as a final confirmation, Cellini’s family very kindly sent us a photo of one of his autographed letters, which was obviously written by the same hand!

In Rome, Aldo certainly had been a frequent visitor of kilns and studios in which Duilio Cambellotti and artists from his school had worked; evident signs of the artistic impact of the Roman school can be recognized in the decorative themes and chromatic choices that characterize many of his creations in the years to come. But after the death of his mentor Augusto Mussini, Aldo enters a profound crisis and leaves Rome to return to his hometown Ascoli, bringing all his fresh enthusiasm cultivated in the avant-garde artistic environments of the capital. Majolica seems to be one of his first passions – we know for certain that the very young Aldo, only twenty years old, was among the first three employees hired by the historic Matricardi Manufacture; and catalogs and price lists of the time testify that his creations were highly valued and appreciated, although sometimes labeled by critics as “too modern.”

It certainly is a rare thing that a very young artist like Aldo would be granted such esteem and respect; and that the love for art prompted the engineer Matricardi to include in his catalogs pieces that were undoubtedly considered a decisive break with tradition and rather adventurous for the current trends of those times. Aldo continued to work with the Matricardi Manufacture until its closure in 1930, but in the summer of 1924 he ventured into the collateral experiment – ephemeral yet memorable – of the SPADA artistic society, whose unmistakable logo, well known to collectors and enthusiasts of ceramic art, represents a stylized dagger, as inspired by the acronym – which means “sword” in Italian.

Amphora Vase with the characteristic curl motifs inspired by wrought iron designs

Umberto Bellotto was himself a daring and innovative artist, who in the past had boldly combined elements and techniques that were certainly unusual: his creations of blown glass and wrought iron are very well known.

We do not know how and when the spark of ​​the collaboration between the two was first ignited, but the first historical hints of the existence of the SPADA are to be found in the catalogs of trade fairs of the time and in a couple of short blurbs published in local newspapers that wish a happy future to the new Society and its supporters (August 1924).

Many of the “structural” designs of the SPADA pieces (particularly vases, bottles and amphorae) are so bizarre and daring that they almost seem like an “Icarus’ flight” from a technical and practical point of view: and indeed, many creations did not survive the great fire precisely because of the fragility that characterized them. In fact, today those very rare pieces that have survived the furnaces, the economic crisis that inevitably sentenced the end of the SPADA around 1929, wars, earthquakes, and everything that can happen in a hundred years’ span, are avidly sought after and appreciated by collectors for their exquisite uniqueness, for the extraordinary quality and luster of their enamels, and for the fantasy and elegance of their decorations.

The event from October 12 integrates the initiative of the beautiful exhibition “With Earth and with Fire” which, in addition to giving space and exposure to contemporary Ascolan ceramists, gave us the opportunity to enjoy a brief but excellent historical overview on the evolution of Artistic Ceramics in Ascoli during the very fruitful period between the 1920s and 1930s. The presentations by Luisa Alleva and Stefano De Martis were very interesting and stimulating, accompanied by a visual presentation to which I collaborated with photos and editing. I strongly recommend reading the relevant chapter “La maiolica in Ascoli Piceno tra il 1921 e il 1977” (Majolica Art in Ascoli Piceno between 1921 and 1977), written by Luisa Alleva, in the very rich and well-detailed catalog of the exhibition; and the review of the catalog itself, “Influenze romane nella ceramica ascolana del ’900” (Roman influences in the Ascoli ceramics of the 1900s) published by Stefano De Martis in Ceramica e arti decorative del Novecento, n. V di Gennaio 2020 (Ceramics and decorative arts of the twentieth century, n. V of January 2020).

A Long-awaited Restoration

The restoration of the decorative figures on the façade of the former “Cinema Olimpia”
in Ascoli Piceno, now reopening as “Bottega del Terzo Settore”

Female Faun figure

Male Faun figure

Ascoli, November 2016 – by Simonetta Castelli

In May of 2016, I had the chance to meet Monica Vittori while she was completing the restoration of the decorative stucco molds created in 1926 by my father, Aldo Castelli, for the façade of the former “Cinema Olimpia” in Ascoli Piceno. The entire building, after decades of decay and neglect, has finally found a new destination and has undergone a complex renovation and restoration. I remember how deeply concerned was my mother – who passed away in 2008 – about the deplorable state of the façade, and how desolate she was to see such singular and beautiful works of her beloved Aldo literally crumble away under the weather year after year... but finally another meaningful testimonial of the rich architectural and artistic history of our city is about to be returned to the Ascolani in its original splendor. Monica’s enthusiasm and talent inspired me to publish on this site a short article on the restoration of the sculptures and bas-reliefs, and I asked her to tell us about her experience of participating in this long-awaited restoration work. Below I report the interview with Monica Vittori.

S.C.: Hello Monica. Thank you for accepting my invitation to tell us about your role in this project. First of all, tell me a little about yourself and how you came to your profession as a restorer.

M.V.: I am a “failed biologist” so to speak – after graduating from high school, Art’s appeal was stronger and steered me off the idea of ​​continuing my studies in Biology. In 1986, after three years of FSE (Social European Fund) restoration training, I obtained the diploma of “restorer of works of art” for the frescoes field, and in 1987, together with my classmates, I founded the COORAL (Cooperative for the Restauration of Frescoes and Stonework).

S.C.: What was your first assignment? What other “important” jobs do you remember, which – in addition to enriching your curriculum – gave you particular satisfaction?

M.V.: The first task was the restoration of the frescoes of the church of S. Maria della Carità in Ascoli (aka “Chiesa della Scopa”). Among the most important restorations are those of the theaters of Ascoli and Fermo, of the Ascoli Cathedral, the painted cycle of S. Angelo Magno – also in Ascoli – and a large fresco by Antonio da Fabriano in Fabriano, but as I am working since almost thirty years, the list is very long ...

S.C.: Undoubtedly! And with regard to this particular project: when and how were you invited to restore the decorative molds and sculptures on the façade of the former “Cinema Olimpia”?

M.V.: Together with my COORAL colleagues, I was contacted by the Rinaldi company with whom we had already collaborated in the past.

S.C.: Did you already know Aldo Castelli as an artist? What did you know, and what do you think?

M.V.: I knew Aldo Castelli thanks to a painting that was (and still is) in my parents' house, an etching depicting a tree in a garden.

S.C.: I know it well. I also have a print of it in the corridor of my apartment. It is an etching from 1961 – when my father was the director of the Institute of Art of Ascoli Piceno – from a sketch he had drawn in the garden of the Hospital in Ancona, when my mother was there recovering from a stroke.

MV: Following the Olimpia assignment, I did a bit of research (including visiting this site, wwww.aldocastelliartista.com) and I discovered a multifaceted artist who has tried his hand in various fields of art, painting, sculpture ... a virtuoso, in short!

S.C.: Certainly a multifaceted artist! He was also a ceramist, a writer, a journalist and a poet. But getting back to the restoration, tell me: how did the various phases take place?

M.V.: The main project for the restoration was handled by my colleague Sonia Stipa. After a thorough assessment inspection, the most suitable operations for the restoration of the artifacts were established, after which our project was submitted to to the competent Superintendency for evaluation. The works to be restored were partly stationary (the panels with fauns and the masks) and partly mobile (the monkeys and parrots figures positioned high above the large windows). The statuettes were carefully removed and brought to the workiswhop, where they could be restored more easily than from the scaffolding.

Three of the monkey figures photographed in the workshop during restoration

All the sculptures - both fixed and mobile - had been covered with a whitish layer (probably the facade had been repainted several times) which had hidden the original red-orange color in imitation of terracotta. This non-original layer was removed with the help of a scalpel, after which we proceeded with plastering to compensate for cracks, scratches, small pieces falling off ... The pictorial restoration has brought the sculptures back to their original appearance, making them stand out more against the light paint of the façade of the building, while before the intervention they were sort of blending in and getting “lost,” due to everything being painted uniformly with the same neutral hue. Finally, a waterproofing was applied to protect the artifacts from the elements as much as possible. All the movable figures (monkeys and parrots) were firmly anchored to the wall – which had not been done in the past, and fortunately this had not caused any problems (like an accidental fall).

S.C .: Very interesting! I am amazed that, in decades of bad weather, earthquakes (unfortunately frequent in our city) and the wear-and-tear of time, the damage and loss of parts has been very contained, and no one has been injured by falling statuettes! You mentioned to me in May that you had encountered some small challenges - I remember you were talking about a missing sculpture? Were there any other difficulties or obstacles?

M.V.: The only difficulty to overcome was precisely the fact that one of the figures representing the parrots, positioned in the upper part of the building, was missing. The reconstruction using a cast was rather difficult since it was a figure in-the-round, but what saved the day was the skill of my colleague Paolo Bastiani, who shaped a brand-new parrot from scratch, using one of the originals as a model.

The re-constructed parrot

The original model (left) and the copy during the work of reconstruction

S.C.: Do you have any other anecdotes, stories, or other interesting discoveries that you can share with the readers?

M.V.: Since the sculptures were outdoors, we thought they were made with a weather-resistant stucco or mortar, a mixture of aggregates and glues, or cement. During the cleaning phase, however, we realized that all the statues were made of plaster – a material sensitive to moisture – which explains the damage caused by the rain. The masks that decorate the entrances had been particularly affected by it.

Tragic mask, before and after the restoration

S.C.: This was also a surprise for us Castelli heirs. We had a watercolor sketch (undated, but it can be placed around the early 1920s), and photos of the originals of the panels with mythological figures of fauns. The latter had been photographed right when they were just freshly made, with the clay still visibly raw, and we had always wondered how had the final versions been molded and then installed on the façade. Furthermore, we do not know when exactly these decorations were added to the façade. The architect Pilotti’s project for the Cinema Olimpia dates back to 1914-16, but Aldo’s collaboration with Pilotti started in the early years of the second decade; and based on the style of the sketches and sculptures, I would venture that they were created between 1922 and 1924 (also because in 1914 our father was just a teenager and – although he was already one of Mussini’s students and had shown exceptional precocity and talent in painting – had not yet tried his hand at plastic arts or ceramics). We hope that some “archive mouse” will be able to give us some more accurate information.

Preparatory sketch – watercolored pencil, circa 1920

Raw clay maquette, circa 1920 – It’s interesting that between the original sketch and the molding of the clay original, The faun with the flute happened to become a “Faun-ess”

Raw clay maquette, circa 1920

M.V.: Yes, we haven’t been able to find any precise information about it.

S.C.: I have read somewhere that the façade underwent a second remodeling in 1926, where the round windows were walled up and the faun panels took their place, so that makes sense. Anyway, what are your next (or current) projects?

M.V.: Soon I will be in L’Aquila with my colleagues for the restoration of stuccoes and paintings inside a building in the historic center of the city. SC: Monica, thank you very much and best wishes for your next assignments – it was a great pleasure to meet you and be part of your experience through your story… and thanks also from all the Ascolani who can enjoy these unique and beautiful testimonials of our artistic legacy that were in danger of being lost!

IN MEMORIAM

“An object becomes a ‘site of memory’ when a community invests it again it with its cherishing and emotions”
(Pierre Nora, Lieux de mémoire)

On October 10, 1965 our father, the artist from Ascoli Aldo Castelli, who belongs in some way – and we believe not undeservingly – to the collective history of a territorial identity extraordinarily rich of artistic expressions, died. A few weeks after our father's death, a beautiful exhibition of part of his works was set up at the Rosati gallery; the tribute to his memory was made more precious by the touching testimonials by the painter Ercolani (Il Messaggero, October 1965) and Mimì Vittori, who was at the time the director of the city library. Since then, no other form of acknowledgment was ever made.

Since the protection and valorization of the memory shared by a community requires the safeguard of what Pierre Nora called “sites of memory” (a monument, a piece of artwork, a prominent figure, a historical relic, a symbol, a museum, an archive, an institution, a historical event…) we would like to try saving from oblivion the work of a multi-faceted and rigorous artist who – despite having enjoyed a fair critical acclaim during his lifetime (and not only locally) – is today completely forgotten in his hometown. “An object becomes a place of memory when it escapes oblivion, for example by the placement of a commemorative plaque…” – or by the inauguration of a monument, or the naming of a public building (such options would require solemn celebratory rituals and complex institutional formalities, which would be ill-suited to a shy and reserved artist like our father was) or more simply by the publication of a monograph on said personality and the display of works of art that were offered as a gift to the city.

Unfortunately, in the imagination of many in the local community of Ascoli, the name of Aldo Castelli – a versatile and fruitful artist – could today be unpleasantly associated with a painting recklessly exhibited with great fanfare in October 2012 inside a public school’s premises, in the presence of some local notables, with a rather embarrassing ceremonial and organizational clumsiness bordering on farce. The promoters of the event gave rise (unknowingly, we hope) to furious polemics; and the legitimate questions that were raised about the intent of the initiative (what or who was meant to be celebrated, exactly?) found no sensible and plausible answers.

The painting, made on commission at the end of the 1930s, then relegated to the “scrap heap“ (with good reason, we believe) for the inevitable damnatio memoriae following the inauspicious two decades of Fascism, was resurrected with confused motivations and procedures barely within the scope of legality. The initiative – quite outlandish indeed – caused a unanimous outcry and had a very wide and unpleasant media resonance: as easily understandable, there are “sites of memory” that are difficult to access as they evoke a unresolved grief, loss and collective pain that one hasn’t had time to process yet.

On that occasion, even though we were not at all involved in the organization of the event, we were forced to face slanderous (and unfounded) accusations against our father and disconcerting insinuations (mostly anonymous) about our whole family. “Not without effort” (*) we were able to elaborate such painful experience (even in absence of the due apologies) and to somehow dismiss the intolerable slights and the clumsy way of handling the event without resorting – as was suggested by some people – to legal actions.

On the fiftieth anniversary of our father's death, we wonder if his work is considered today of so little value and significance to not even deserve a space, however modest, in the city's artistic and cultural history.

In 2000, on the occasion of the centenary of our father’s birth, the Corriere Adriatico republished some of his articles on Ascoli, and the administration made a commitment to publish a monograph, edited by Professor Papetti, director of the civic museums. The publication was to be financed by the Municipality, the Province, and the CARISAP Foundation, with the contribution of the Art Institute that provided the photographic reproduction of the works on high-resolution transparencies and prints (currently stored in the Institute’s safe). Right from the start, there were holdbacks, and in 2001 Il Resto del Carlino published an article in which our mother was expressing her profound disappointment at the failure to publish the monograph that had been in the works for over a year, with a large contribution of materials by our family and friends in support of the texts and for the iconic apparatus.

In the end, thanks to our mother’s tenacity, the project was carried out, up to near-completion of the graphic layout, which has been virtually ready to go to press for over seven years, but it seems that the funds necessary to cover the publishing costs were never found by the sponsors (meanwhile, over the same period of time, many other initiatives of various kinds – on whose relevance we do not intend to argue – were financed, but perhaps with a little goodwill the funds for that publication could also have been provided, for a projected cost that was certainly quite affordable). Incidentally, we understand that the designer who took care of the graphic project (and whose work is practically complete), was never even reimbursed for the cost incurred out of his own pocket for the digitalization of the images.

Between the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 our mother, already ill, had the ephemeral joy of seeing a draft of the monograph’s layout and of the cover design. Hoping for an imminent publication, moved by gratitude, in February 2008 she donated an early (circa 1925) self-portrait of our father to the Municipal Art Gallery; shortly before her death she received an official letter from Piero Celani, then mayor of Ascoli, offering his thanks “for the gift made to the City” as well as “the satisfaction expressed also by Professor Papetti for the new acquisition” and giving assurance that the “important painting made by your husband Aldo Castelli will be given a worthy placement alongside your husband’s works already present in the municipal collections.” After our mother’s death, in respect of her last wishes and prior agreements with Professor Papetti, two other oil paintings were handed over to a City representative: Landscape with Olive Trees (dated 1950) and a self-portrait from 1955, on the back of which is also a portrait of a “Girl With Her Arm in a Cast” (who knows, maybe a device to save money, often adopted also by his mentor Mussini, as painting canvas and primed wood were quite expensive).

A beautiful oil painting (Portrait of G. Condio, 1944), which had been donated by our mother in 1993 to the City’s Museum of Contemporary Art (replacing a lithograph already present in the municipal collection) was exhibited for some time, and then inexplicably removed.

Below are the paintings donated to the city by the Castelli heirs over a period of twenty years, all taken into the City’s charge with official records of delivery bearing the seal of the Municipality of Ascoli. Of those, only the first three are now occasionally visible at the City’s Museum of Contemporary Art “Osvaldo Licini” (and removed when more important events featuring more important artists are hosted in the Museum’s halls); the Landscape with Olive Trees has never been seen again in twenty years, with deep regret by the family and surely by many who appreciated this artist during his lifetime and after.

For two decades, it has not been possible to find the time to think of a “worthy collocation” for the paintings donated to the city, nor to send to press an already ready-for-print book. Someone might maliciously infer the suspicion that failure to honor commitments that were officially taken can be attributed to red tape hindrances, institutional inertia, logistic sloppiness, historical insensitivity, guilty neglect or simply lack of interest and disregard. Today, unfortunately, we cannot but favor this last hypothesis, despite the official thank-you note for the “gift to the city” that was given 20 years ago by then-mayor Piero Celani: unfortunately, the facts seem to unequivocally confirm the idea that these “gifts to the city” were not so welcome, and that one doesn’t know what to do with them….

If such is the case, the City administration would have only one option, that is, to return those gifts (perhaps considered insignificant, of little value and therefore not worthy of appearing next to the works by higher-rank artists), thus avoiding intolerable, continuous postponements that seem unjustified and specious. We will come to terms with it eventually, and we will seek other ways to share this little heritage with the folks in Ascoli who showed interest in this singular artist figure.

To celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of our father’s death, the Facebook community “Ascoli Piceno: la città di travertino” has given ample space for a sort of “virtual exhibition” that featured his works. We sincerely thank the animator of the FB group Piersandra Dragoni; our dear friend Erminia Tosti Luna, who has posted a beautiful article on our father’s activity as a ceramist; and all those who have followed the thread and made contributions and comments.

This website, which was born as a tribute of affection by us children to our father (a father of whom one can only be proud) also wants to be a catalyst agent for the launch of a place where we can build the memory of ALDO CASTELLI, an Ascolan artist from the early ’900s. 

(*) RE: “shared memory”: for some of us, this motto perhaps will be reminiscent of one of the many inscriptions carved on the lintels of Ascoli’s ancient buildings’s doors… (see the article “Saggezza sugli architravi” on this site)

P.S. After nearly 15 years, the painting “Landscape with Olive Trees” has returned to my family. We sincerely thank Mayor Marco Fioravanti and Professor Papetti for reuniting us with this beloved work by our father.