I’m making quite good progress with preparation for my talk on Italian art in the inter-war years, which I’ll be giving in about a month from now. I has been interesting reflecting on the similarities and differences between the situation of artists then and there, and in my own time and place. One of the biggest differences, of course, has been the fact that in Italy in the ‘thirties public authorities were spending huge amounts on the arts, in terms of the sponsorship of events (such as the famous Venice Biennale), the decoration of public buildings with sculpture and murals, and (possibly more than anything else) in the purchase of works of art to add to public collections. I’m not sure what is the situation in other countries these days, but during our dreadful decade of “austerity” in Britain there has been a steady deterioration of the scale of state support for the arts, particularly at the municipal level. Whereas the large and prestigious institutions such as the Tate Gallery thrive, largely because of their role as tourist destinations, local galleries scrape along, just about managing to keep going, and having very little to spend (if anything) on new acquisitions. The market for personal purchases in general is also not very buoyant, although work by a few internationally recognised figures can change has at astronomical prices.
Then my mind turned to an interesting and possibly overlooked similarity between these two situations. Both in inter-war Italy and today there are important parallels between the scale of the geographical horizons within which artists work. What set me thinking along this line was my coming across a book I acquired several years ago, while on holiday in the small Tuscan town of Barga. The subject of the book is a former local artist names Bruno Cordati, whose work is preserved in a local gallery devoted to this purpose.
Cordati was an interesting figure. He never came to be included in the circle of noted Italian artists. Certainly I have never encountered his name in any of the general discussions of the history of Italian art. Although he did teach art abroad for several years, under cultural exchange agreements with several Balkan countries (especially Bulgaria), the greater part of his working life took place within his native province of Tuscany. I am not setting out to argue that he is an undiscovered “great artist”, although he was undoubtedly competent. He just appears to have brushed aside the highly competitive national scene, and to have addressed himself to local material and a local clientele, who recognised his worth.
It is probably the case that Cordati’s experience has been replicated many, many times, not only in Italy but more widely. The history of art which we encounter in reference works, is taught in schools, and features in the communications media, is probably only one possible version of art history. It seems to be driven in large measure by the international market for art, and revolves around the critical evaluation and validation of works in relation to their likely prices in the sale-rooms. There must be dozens of other histories of art waiting to be told, however, and perhaps some of them are really worth the effort to find them and tell them.