The term arte povera refers to an approach to art that emerged in Italy in the 1970s, although it spread fairly widely after then. It means, literally, “poor art”, although that is not intended to refer to the quality of the art but to the nature of the materials with which artists work. Instead of creating art using specially made materials, such as canvases and high quality paints, the “poor artist” uses found objects, and commonplace media such as house paint. Probably the most widely-known and respected person working in this tradition is Alberto Burri, who employed sacking and pieces of found metal, which were as likely to be worked on with an acetylene torch as with a paint brush.*
Although the way in which I work is (on the whole) a long way from this, I do find myself every year indulging in a little arte povera.** It always happens at Christmas. We don’t go in for lavish decoration at this time of the year, but we do like to celebrate the season. An essential part of the preparation, for me, is the creation of decorations using greenery brought in from the neighbouring woods and gardens. For many years now Christmas has been preceded by a “raid” on wild holly-bushes. Our own bushes in the garden never produce berries, although they are useful for a variety of other shades and textures. I’m sure that the theological significance of this is definitely dodgy, but I do know that the materials do have to be “found objects”, and not stuff bought from the florist’s.
The centre-piece of it all has to be the crib. Although we bring out every year a set of figures which I acquired from my parents, the “stable” has to be made anew each time, and I never know in advance what might be available for this purpose. The “cast-off” nature of the materials is, however, essential. This year I found in the cellar some wood that had previously been a set of flat-pack drawers, and some other scrap timber.
I’ve never tried before to give an intellectual justification for this, although I have for a long time kept this custom with a degree of conviction. Thinking about it today, however, I came to the idea that it might have something to do with the belief that nothing …. absolutely nothing …. is beyond redemption.
*I’m not taken much by work in this tradition in general, but for some reason or another Burri’s pieces do appeal to me.
**The exception to this, of course, was the series of pieces I produced using marine found objects. See the “gallery” elsewhere on the site entitled Recollections of time past.