Monumental Cemetery in Milan Diary

During my first trip to Milan, I didn’t have time to see the Monumental Cemetery, where graves adorned with magnificent sculpture abound. Designed by master architect Carlo Maciachini in various styles, it was open to the public during 1866. The tombstones are elaborate works of art showing off styles from the end of the 18th century through the 19th century and beyond. For example, I saw a tombstone shaped as an Egyptian pyramid and another resembling Trajan’s Column. I even found some graves decorated with modern architecture.

The Neo-Gothic Famidio, which looks like a church but houses tombstones of eight famous Italians, was the first place I entered. One wall is covered with names of others who are buried on the premises. Smack in the center of the Famedio is the tombstone of Alessandro Manzoni, a 19th century Italian author who wrote the patriotic worldwide masterpiece, The Betrothed. I knew he had been instrumental in creating the modern Italian language and had been admired during the Risorgimento, the movement that culminated in Italy’s unification. I had seen displays dedicated to him in the Museum of the Risorgimento in Milan and had viewed editions of The Betrothed in a temporary exhibition at the Brera Art Gallery’s historical library. I also had visited the museum dedicated to his life and work, though I hadn’t been that well-schooled in his background and literary works to appreciate everything I saw. In that museum, I especially liked the paintings showing scenes from his works.

Many famous Italians are buried in this cemetery – the painter Francesco Hayez whose creation “The Kiss” I had admired in the Brera along with many other of his works; Dario Fo, a playwright whose literary contributions I had read with great enthusiasm; and conductor and cellist Arturo Toscanni as well as pianist Vladimir Horowitz. I had been introduced to their classical music accomplishments when I had studied classical music in college.

The cemetery has three main sections – one for Catholics, one for non-Catholics and one for Jews. The central edifice in the Jewish section boasts beautiful windows that symbolize the 12 tribes of Israel. Inaugurated during 1876, the Greek Revival styled Cremation Temple has the distinction of being the first crematorium used in the Western world. It was in service until 1992. I also saw a moving monument to those 800-some Milanese who died in Nazi concentration camps. It was created in 1945.

All the tombstones I viewed were outstanding works of art. I saw a tall tombstone that symbolized the Tower of Babel in the center of the cemetery. Looking like a tower with many sculpted figures on the outside, the tombstone was empty on the inside. Designed by architect Alessandro Minali and sculpture Giannino Castiglioni in 1936, it featured numerous biblical scenes. I recalled viewing Peter Bruegel’s painting called “The Tower of Babel” at an exhibition in Vienna. Though markedly different, both works contained an amazing amount of detail in the various scenes portrayed.

Another tombstone on the central path was nubbed “Work” because it extolled an allegory on that subject, played out in a scene devoted to agriculture. The female figure looking down on the scene symbolizes Mother Nature, her face so well-sculpted by Enrico Butti in 1912. The episode shows a male figure pulling his cattle with some difficulty. He is leaning in one direction due to the heavy weight of the animals. The two cattle and male figure are made of bronze while Mother Nature above is made of red-colored rock. I found this tombstone to be very compelling, especially with Mother Nature looming over the scene.

My favorite sculptural grouping represents Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper.” I had viewed the painting in Milan during my previous visit and had been drawn to the details in the work, especially the facial expressions and gestures of each character that was portrayed uniquely and exquisitely in the unfolding drama. In this sculptural rendition, the bronze larger-than-life-sized figures share the same theme as the painting, though there are some differences from the masterpiece in the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie. This tombstone overwhelmed me with its dramatic and vibrant qualities. It had been made for David Campari and the Campari family and designed by Giannino Castiglioni in 1935. Representing a painting in sculptural form was audacious and formidable. I especially noticed the detail in Judas’ bag of money.

I also saw a more modern work, dated from 1949 and created by modern Italian artist Lucio Fontana for the Chinelli family. The large sculpture of a headless blue angel was made in paper mâché, hovering over the earth. I took notice of the vibrant color.

After an hour and a half, I had to leave the cemetery because it was just too depressing looking at graves, even though they were masterfully made. Every one told a unique story. I was glad I had finally made it to the cemetery and certainly was not disappointed.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Caso Museo Boschi Di Stefano Diary

I regretted not having time to visit the house museum Boschi Di Stefano the first time I visited Milan. It was far from the center, where I spent much of my introductory days in the city. During my second visit the following year, I made sure I did not miss this museum.

I got off the metro at the Lima station, in which felt to me like a dangerous area. Yet, five minutes from the metro, I walked down a street lined with elegant buildings, which gave off an altogether different atmosphere – one of calmness and grandeur. The museum was on the second floor of a majestic building built between 1929 and 1931 by Piero Portaluppi, whose name was familiar to me because he had designed Milan’s Villa Necchi Campiglio, a former home with dazzling Art Deco adornment inside. I recalled the works by Pablo Picasso and the lush garden with pool and tennis courts at the Villa Necchi, one of the highlights of my first visit to this remarkable city.

I loved house museums because they had a more intimate quality than bigger, impersonal art spaces. I could sense that these house museums had once been somebody’s home. Trials and tribulations of daily life had taken place here. Private conversations had been voiced here. This particular house museum had once been the home of Antonio Boschi and Marieda Di Stefano, a married couple who had amassed a collection of some 2,000 pieces of art, mostly Italian in origin. They tied the knot in 1927 as Boschi, a veteran of World War I, went on to become a successful engineer. Marieda was an artist herself who had an affinity for ceramics. Many of her artistic creations can be seen here, too. A school of ceramics was situated a floor below.

The Caso Museo Boschi Di Stefano includes 11 spaces and focuses on 20th century art dated from 1900 to 1960 – mostly paintings but also drawings, sculpture and furniture. About 300 works are on display. The museum has been open to the public since 2003.

I felt overwhelmed as I contemplated the paintings that covered the entirety of the walls from the bottom all the way to the top. I was almost dizzy with delight, gazing at all the paintings, some falling into the category of modern art while others showed off a contemporary style. The works were displayed in a chronological fashion, so I could see how styles developed during those 60 years.

I recognized paintings by Giorgio De Chirico, Pablo Picasso, Amadeo Modigliana, Lucio Fontana and Raoul Dufy. Other pictorial treasures included 66 works by Roberto Crippa; 129 renditions by Gianni Dova; and 57 creations by Cesare Peverelli. Giuseppe Ajmone, Piero Manzoni, Arturo Martini and Sandro Martini, among others, were also represented there. I recognized Joe Columbo’s distinct style from an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in Milan the previous year.

What once was a guest room is now filled with furnishings for a study, the pieces dating from the 1930s. The dining room was a delight, too. I was fascinated with the Agena ceiling light, a unique round structure with what look like yellow cups protruding from the ball-like form. I didn’t understand what the style of the ceiling light meant, but it was fascinating to see it with my own eyes.

I went through the flat twice to try to take in all the art that surrounded me. It was a mesmerizing and breathtaking experience. The development of 20th century art was on display, each work speaking volumes about artistic creations during a time period in which I had not lived but could now better appreciate.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.