GIAMPIERO MONTANARI / pittore e scultore

I was born in Bologna, in Via Castiglione. Some years later, my family moved to San Giovanni in Persiceto, where my father started up a small business after returning from the war, alternating between building farm tools and forging iron. My childhood was as light-hearted and free as living in a small village allowed children; my mother and my unforgettable teacher Scagliarini taught me so many things, whilst my father wanted me to learn a trade and I soon felt the need to exit the path of everyday life, of days that were always the same. My interest in art was born in my father’s workshop, where without understanding why, I was attracted by the beauty of copper or iron decorations and wooden sculptures of some carts dating from the start of last century. I remember that I used to hide the finest examples, and I still jealously guard some. As a teenager, I got closer still to art when there were Carnival parties, when different societies competed for the prestigious prizes that were offered, with the typical allegorical floats made by the skilful artists from the Art Academy. I had the chance to meet and admire Professor Quinto Ghermandi, who made two beautiful horses for a society called “The Train”, and I remember my sadness when the float did not win. Those days in which I attended with my father to their creation were an unconscious preparation for what would become my life. I had the opportunity to meet other talented artists: my friend, Professor Mario Martinelli, whom I remember with affection; Professor Emilio Contini; Ettore Quaquarelli, the artist, who made decorations as well as paintings; and in particular, the eclectic Professor Pirro Cuniberti, who with his inventions (that appeared very strange to a child, today I would say futuristic), made me think of worlds by Jules Verne, where imagination gives space to creativity. I remember him because the place where he displayed his work was called La Cucaracha, which was near to my house in Via Bologna, separated only by the Municello canal, which is little more than a trickle, but seemed to me a huge river. It was in the days when, in villages, children needed to know the things that made up the outside world. There were meetings in the bar in the long and foggy winters, listening to the older people’s stories; or the dreams which my friends and I had, friends such as Bruno Tittarelli and Gianni Cazzola, when we went to the cinema to watch certain American films where everything seemed new and, at the same time, far away. I remember that in summer there were two open cinemas and their names alone stirred fascination in us and made us want to run away, one was called Taverna Rossa and the other Arena Azzurra. To the cinema, I also owe my love of music, painting and sculpture. At seventeen years old I ventured out around Italy, under the temporary guardianship of an architect friend of my father, whom I assisted with various futuristic metal constructions. This allowed me to meet many people in the art world and to visit new towns. I am thinking especially of a long period spent in Sicily in the sixties, where I could admire the beauties of Magna Graecia, the delightful eastern arabesque style decorations and the Caltagirone ceramics, that fascinated me. One day, in a bar in Nettuno, on the coast of Lazio, I met my childhood friend Gianni Cazzola, who always loved Jazz drummers, and together we recalled our dreams. He had fulfilled his, he had already played with a band of great musicians such as Basso, Valdambrini, Chet Baker and Gerry Mulligan. We hugged and greeted each other with the same enthusiasm as all that time ago. Our friend Bruno Tittarelli, on the other hand, graduated and then went abroad and we have not seen him since, but when he watches and old American films he will surely be reminded of us. At twentyone, I went back home, only to leave immediately, to join the Bersaglieri Corps in Rome (could it have happened any better?). On my return, I recommenced my studies, got a diploma from the institute of art and I went to the academy. I travelled extensively abroad: Ireland, Spain, Great Britain and particularly in France, where I still regularly return and where many years ago I met Claude Marin, a great artist who taught me the secrets of painting outdoors by speaking about the great French Impressionists. In my first collective exhibitions, I had the good fortune to meet and deserve the esteem of Giovanni Romagnoli, Alessandro Cervellati (the first to award me a silver medal), Gino Marzocchi, Giulio Fiori and Irnerio Patrizi, who honoured my with their friendship introducing some of my personal exhibitions; also, my teacher and friend, the sculptor Cesarino Vincenzi with whom I shared my studio in Via Marsili for several wonderful years, and to whom I dedicate particular thanks.