It's always bothered me to hear people say that Giacometti wouldn't have been Giacometti if he hadn't gone to Paris. It bothers me, but it's true. It's completely unfair that he wouldn't have become Giacometti if he hadn't shaken off the valley environment, that strange valley like the Bragaglia, which sinks below the Maloja and gradually rises again as it winds southward, from the crown of mountains to the picturesque stillness of Lake Como. Anyone who has frequented and lived in the Bregaglia, climbed the landslide-prone Bondasca, and longed for those dizzying peaks, or simply gazed (dreamed?) at them from below, knows that Alberto Giacometti's work is sharp, bristling, rugged, jagged, stripped-back, and ultimately solemn, like that rippling succession of some of the most beautiful peaks in the world.
A painting by Giovanni Giacometti, the father, a post-impressionist painter, comes to mind. Perhaps his most beautiful, theSelf Portrait from 1899. Giovanni dominates the center. Robust, strong, rosy, with a handlebar mustache, his gaze straight and determined. In the background, the snow-capped mountains of the Bregaglia region, contained within a speck of sky. On the left, the village; on the right, a mysterious, thin black thread, crawling like a caterpillar. If you look closely, preferably with a magnifying glass, you'll see that this indolent, annoying caterpillar is a funeral. You can even make out the four men carrying the coffin in the dark, frozen, desolate valley floor.
In that self-portrait of his father as well as in the regular returns from Paris to Stampa to his mother Annetta, a cloud of white hair and a soft and determined gaze at the same time, there is the synthesis of theAlberto's workHe had to go to Paris, then the center of the art scene, to create the right detachment and finally be able to bring out what was inside him, inherited and stored in that valley of stone and water, so rugged yet gentle in its direction south, toward the light. Where the sun seems never to set until it settles down in the last valley cut, while the shadows tighten, the figures lengthen, the feet grow larger, and the heads become thinner (just like his sculptures) until they almost disappear as they settle into the landscape.
That he, Alberto, takes to Paris, to his shabby, filthy atelier at 46 rue Hippolyte Maindron, in the 14th arrondissement, with its peeling walls, pencils, charcoal, paint, and cigarette butts, to create images as dry, sharp, and piercing as his valley. And a little like his silent heart, dry like those Bregaglia geographies he compressed and transformed into landscapes of modernity, of this culmination of history that sends us crashing back to our roots.
At the root of what? Of existences, of life, of the relationship with oneself and with things. With that sense of powerful temporariness that pervades his father's self-portrait, Alberto Giacometti returns to the first questions: who am I, what am I doing here, what do I represent? And in his confessed and painful inability, he manages to sketch answers that recall the thread of the mountains, the setting sun that elongates the figures, sharpens the heads and thickens the feet, the wispy funeral of his father's grandiose self-portrait, his mother's fluffy white hair and the wrinkles on her face, carved like a map. And always the rustic valley, stretching out across time, gathering presences as dry as those mountains, as colorful as those long sunsets. In this silent, profound, painful connection, a work is born that is destined to remain unique in the history of art. It is strangely pleasing, it enters us and does not leave us alone. It also tells us that yes, we are present in those works (sculptures, paintings, drawings, engravings) as soon as we dare to look inside. Alberto Giacometti was one of the few, perhaps the only one, to provide answers on the scene of the twentieth century, which, on this level, continues to be contemporary to us. Writers, philosophers, and playwrights asked questions and waited. Alberto Giacometti, in his presumed inadequacy, provided answers. In the silence, in the nights, only a dim light, a cigarette, illuminates the sculpted face.
My sculptures? All wrong...
Sergio Genni's famous interview with RTSI in 1963
A paradox. Alberto Giacometti repeatedly claims to be a failed sculptor… This is true in the 1963 television interview conducted by Sergio Genni for the then RTSI in Stampa's studio, caught on the fly during one of his many trips back from Paris. Here is the central part of the interview. The sense of inadequacy is reflected in the testimony of Giorgio Soavi, his critic and friend, in the introductory text to the 73 Lugano exhibition: “My sculptures are all wrongIt was a time of success, of major exhibitions, of flattering reviews from the leading intellectuals of the time, but dissatisfaction with his work was evident and reiterated. In Genni's interview, Giacometti responds while modeling a head with his fingers.
What would you like to do?
"A head. The only thing I want to do is the head, so-and-so. It's difficult, I can't do it. I can't do it, not at all, I can't do it. Any head, I'm incapable."
And those elongated bodies are perhaps inspired…
"No, no, it's involuntary. I don't want to make them elongated anymore. They become elongated in spite of myself, it's not voluntary. I'd like to do them... but I can't. Up until now, I've never done anything, not a single day since 1935, that I've done anything the way I wanted. It's always turned out differently from what I wanted, always. I'd like to make normal heads, normal figures. In short, I can't do it."
How do you judge his works in general?
"Bad. Well, they're all lousy."
This is the artist's strength, a continuous search...
"No, no, I didn't succeed. It's a failed search, just a failed search."
Yet he perseveres in this search, always following a certain path…
"No, no, since I've always failed, I want to try, keep trying. I'd like to be able to make a fool of myself, as I see it, but since I've never succeeded, I'll keep going. You have to have a good dose of stupidity to keep going. In fact, seeing that I can't do anything, I should stop. With a little more intelligence, I would stop."
A film, an exhibition and many intertwined biographies
It's called "The Giacomettis" is a documentary about this extraordinary family of artists in the Bregaglia mountains. Susanna Fanzun, a native of the Engadine, tells the story, introducing not only the most famous member, Alberto, but the entire family. To try to answer the question: why did art literally explode in that house in Stampa, in Bregaglia? The exhibition "Alberto Giacometti. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" held at the Chur Museum last year. As in the film, the exhibition was impressive in how the family members served as role models for each other, how father and son worked side by side. This is confirmed by two portraits of Bruno, one painted by his father Giovanni and the other by Alberto.
Compared to the exhibition dedicated to the young Alberto Giacometti and his career from a young age to his time in Paris in the 1920s, the film “The Giacomettis” extends the time span across an entire century: a family of artists all born and raised in Bregaglia, the valley that was the center of their lives and where they finally found their final resting place.
Biographies of the Giacomettis
John Giacometti (1868-1933) the first artist of the family, he paved the way for his cousin Augusto and his sons Alberto and Diego. He attended art schools in Munich and Paris, and was the only Giacometti to remain in Bregaglia for his entire life.
Annetta Giacometti-Press (1871-1964) Giovanni's wife. For over sixty years she accompanied and supported the creative work of her husband and children.
Augusto Giacometti (Borgonovo 1877-Zurich 1947) second cousin of Giovanni. Kunstgewerbeschule in Zurich, Ecole nationale des arts décoratives in Paris. He was president (1939-47) of the Federal Commission of Fine Arts.
Alberto Giacometti (Borgonovo 1901-Chur 1966). Son of Giovanni and Annetta. In 1922 he settled in Paris, and five years later opened a studio with his brother Diego, a faithful model and collaborator. He was one of the most innovative and famous artists of the twentieth century, having a significant influence on the development of modern art. His portrait and several works appear on the 100 franc note.
Diego Giacometti (Borgonovo 1902-Paris 1985) Alberto's collaborator and model, he prepared the armatures for his sculptures, the plaster casts, and the patina for his bronzes. After his death, he created a large number of art objects, including the furnishings for the Picasso Museum in Paris.
Ottilia Berthoud-Giacometti (1904-1937) Giovanni's daughter, she worked in the textile industry in Paris, Ascona, and Chur, remaining integrated into the social fabric of the Valley. Model for her father Giovanni and Alberto.
Bruno Giacometti (Borgonovo 1907-Zollikon 2012) was the youngest son of Giovanni and Annetta. An architect, he designed single-family homes, residential and public buildings in the Zurich area and the Grisons, and exhibition installations, including the Swiss Pavilion at the 1952 Venice Biennale.
The excellent exhibition in Lugano, Villa Ciani in 1973 (title)
An extraordinary exhibition of Alberto Giacometti's work was held in 1973 in Lugano, at Villa Ciani, then the Civic Museum of Fine Arts. His brother Diego was present. Aurelio Longoni, a municipal councilor, chaired the Executive Committee. The catalog included essays by Giorgio Soavi, Giancarlo Vigorelli, Piero Bianconi, Franco Russoli, and Giuseppe Curonici..
Exciting journey with 25 medium and large sized bronze sculptures, from 1926 (Little man crouching) to 1964 (Bust of Chiavenna), among which Walking Man II, Standing Woman I, Large Head of Diego, and one in marble, Woman of 1928; 25 paintings on canvas, from Portrait of Simon Berard (1919) to Figure and head (1965); 66 drawings, including 16 originals for the illustrations of Jean Genet's volume “Alberto Giacometti”, Scheidegger Editions, Zurich 1962; 6 original etchings for André du Bouchet's volume “The inhabitation” Ed. Jean Hugues, Paris 1967), and 37 lithographs belonging to the cycle “Paris san fin", 1969.
