“Italia da salvare” The destruction of Italy as a shared concern

In 1979, in his Semiologia del paesaggio italiano, geographer Eugenio Turri proposed a vivid comparison to describe the transformations of Italian cities and territories over the previous three decades. He stated, amongst other things, that “It is difficult to trace equally conspicuous ones, in a similarly short span of time (…) unless we consider the effects due to cataclysmic events or violent episodes such as the descent of the barbarians or certain disastrous wars (…). But here we are in the realm of destructive phenomena. Can we also call recent transformations destructive?”. In fact, since the mid-1950s several intellectuals and critics agreed on the uncanny similarities between the effects of wartime bombings and other attacks, on the one side, and those of the hectic construction activity that characterized the decades following the economic boom, on the other. Many considered that Italy was being destroyed both in times of war and in times of peace. This is also testified by the popularization of the metaphor of the “vandal”, borrowing the evocative name of a so-called barbarian population, which invaded Italy since the 3rd century AD, to identify the perpetrators of the worst threats to the country’s heritage at all scales. I vandali in casa (Vandals at home) is the catchy title of the 1956 collection of articles on the topic by archaeologist Antonio Cederna, a nationwide leading figure in the debate on these issues. A much broader, multi-voiced discourse on the destruction of Italy was elaborated and circulated between the 1950s and the 1970s: “A critical literature specifically oriented toward exposing abuses on the urban and rural landscape”, in the words of architects Giovanni Durbiano and Matteo Robiglio from 2003. The 1967 exhibition “Italia da salvare”, jointly organized by Italia Nostra and the TCI – Touring Club Italiano and first held at Milan’s Palazzo Reale, is a crucial moment of expansion and dissemination of the body of knowledge on the destruction of Italy.

The exhibition opened to the public on April 7th and its closing date was postponed from April 25th to May 1st. Giorgio Bassani and Ferdinando Reggiori, national leaders respectively of Italia Nostra and the TCI, were its official Presidents – as the colophon defined them – but the main researcher and its actual deus ex machina was Renato Bazzoni, architect and photographer, a member of the Milanese section of Italia Nostra and later co-founder of the FAI – Fondo Ambiente Italiano. The visit itinerary unfolded through two of Palazzo Reale’s most monumental spaces, Giuseppe Piermarini’s grand staircase and the famous Hall of Caryatids. In the words of its organizers, “The exhibition (...) examines the whole of this immense heritage, which it is the duty and general interest to protect and pass on, and poses the problems involved in its preservation: that of the urbanized complexes constituting the most varied forms of habitat, that of human interventions in close contact with the surrounding landscape, and that of the natural environments which retain their characteristics of integrity and primordiality”. The exhibition’s main feature were the 500 pictures providing a comprehensive overview on the state of Italian monuments, cities and landscapes, with a specific attention to the most derelict, damaged and endangered of them. Images were organized thematically, rather than on a geographical basis. The sequence of topics progressively widened the scale of observation and shifted the focus of attention from the artistic heritage to the natural landscapes and the environment. A short visit guide was published, finely laid out by graphic designer Pino Tovaglia, who conceived the striking black cover, pierced by a white and red cut which recalls a bleeding wound. On the contrary, no full catalogue ever saw the light, due to budget and logistics constraints.

While scholarly research on “Italia da salvare” is still quite limited, it can be considered a major event in the debate on the transformations of Italy in the second half of the 20th century, in many regards. First, for the quantity and quality of the research and original documentation that was produced for its preparation. A team of seven architects-photographers, also including their coordinator Bazzoni, explored the whole of the Italian peninsula over more than two years, realizing 25 thousand shots overall. Never before had such an ambitious campaign been launched to document the landscapes of the post-economic boom country. Second, the exhibition was one-of-a-kind for the multiplicity and the diversity of the actors involved in its making. The collaboration between Italia Nostra, a then young heritage defense association, and the TCI, a seven decades old society for tourist promotion, was anything but predictable. In fact, as historian Chiara Baglione explains in her recent essay on “Italia da salvare”, the two organizers engaged in particularly heated discussions when it came to the definition of the exhibition’s exact angle of observation on Italy, as well as of the title that could better translate it. The final, more optimistic formulation “Italia da salvare”, suggested by the TCI, was preferred over Italia Nostra’s more apocalyptical proposal “Italia che rovina”. Still, it is undeniable that the unifying element between the two actors, both very popular at the time and counting on the support of hundreds of thousands of members, was a similar perception of the ongoing destruction of the universally cherished Bel Paese. This same concern allowed to bring on board numerous sponsors, including companies such as Pirelli, and media partners, in particular the Corriere della Sera, the Italian leading newspaper directed at the time by Milanese industrialist and philanthropist Giulia Maria Crespi. Furthermore, the President of the Italian Republic, Giovanni Gronchi, granted its patronage to the initiative.

To conclude, “Italia da salvare”’s outreach was possibly unprecedented for an exhibition about heritage and landscape, their destruction and the importance of their preservation. During its three-weeks opening time, it welcomed more than 50 thousand visitors, ten times more than its organizers’ expectations. In the following months, it was restaged in Rome, Verona, Bologna and Venice, as well as at New York’s MoMA, with the updated title “Art & Landscape of Italy. Too Late to be Saved?”. Furthermore, before, during and after April 1967, both Bazzoni and Cederna – who actively contributed to its preparation and signed one of the visit guide’s main essays – helped making its topic paramount in the public debate. They did so by publishing countless articles on “Italia in rovina” (“Italy in ruins”), “Italia a pezzi” (“Italy torn into pieces”) and “Italia da salvare” on a multiplicity of media, including the Corriere della Sera, the weekly magazine l’Espresso and the interior architecture magazine Abitare. While it is, as usual, difficult to precisely identify and quantify their audience, meaning both their readers and the exhibition’s visitors, “Italia da salvare” undoubtedly stands out as an ambitious, one-off attempt at turning the destruction of Italy, be it real or feared, into a public concern.