Imaginarea Weekly

Flamingos are birds that are perfectly at home wherever there is sea-salt or chlorine in the air – and they turn into inflatable beach (or pool) toys for our carefree moments. Indeed, they seem the epitome of a relaxed existence: they balance with ease on one leg and the more shrimp they eat, the lovelier they look, seeing as their pretty pink colouring is the result of their crustacean-based diet. As for their habitat, it isn’t uncommon in Italy – from Tuscany to Sicily, from Sardinia to Emilia Romagna – to come across salt pans which, thanks to “flamboyances” of flamingos, look like oases viewed through rose-tinted glasses. But let’s bear in mind that leisureliness isn’t a given for these wading birds. In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, for example, they get rudely flattened out and used as mallets during an improbable game of croquet … Lewis Carroll reminds us that when the going gets tough, even the flamingos get going. Whether we’re chilling out or getting worked up, our days always tend to resemble a game of a croquet; as for our “tough” flamingo, it not only passes the “flamingo balance test” but is also unquestionably in the pink: after all, is it, or is it not, this summer’s “sock symbol”?

“In the summertime, when the weather is hot…” what cheerier way of celebrating the carefree days of summer than the famous Mungo Jerry song? A myriad of fine weather activities are mentioned: from fishing to parties, from swimming in the sea, to meals out. The rhythm makes us think of an old steam train chuff-chuffing up a hill in the sunshine – though these days we might instead be inclined to find it reminiscent of the relentless rising of prices in many countries, as well as of the high-speed plummeting of human rights in other (not-so-distant) ones. Let’s try then to stock up as if we were ants, but with retroactive supplies. Thus, this 21st June seems like the start-up of a locomotive, and we can be sure that the clanging noise and slowness involved are bound to protect us from all the ups and downs. Could the smoke rising from our locomotive’s smokestack be a white hanky waving goodbye to those leaving on their holiday train, with a comb handy to untangle all the knots of a matted situation? All it took was to go off track – or “derail” – for a few instances and we’re already in summertime gear. Let’s hope we can stretch this mood well beyond the summer. For the time being, the best we can do is make ourselves comfortable, perhaps in the window seat.

“Art and Sensuality in the Houses of Pompei”, an exhibition currently staged at Pompeii, aims to prove that the erotic imagery, so ubiquitous in homes all over that Roman city, is not only (as indicated in the title) “art”, but is also depictive of something quite natural and which can, therefore, be viewed by adults and children alike. The adjective “hard core”, being a concept that changes over time, doesn’t apply here at all. However, one does require lenses to look closely… Thus, the exhibition highlights those steamy scenes whose explicitness had embarrassed archaeologists ever since the site was first discovered. Consequently, the evocative artefacts had been stashed in storerooms that remained more or less off limits – until now. The present exhibition, on view until January 2023, recounts how our ancestors possessed everything except bashfulness: scenes depicting the copulation of gods and centaurs were not only a narrative for bedrooms, but also for sitting rooms, grottos and gardens – in short, they were central to private daily life in Pompeii. And while we’re on the subject of special lenses, let’s remember that the French painter Gustave Courbet – who holds the record as the artist most-recently hit by a seemingly timeless censorship – was born on 10 June 1819. In 2011, Courbet’s painting L’Origine du monde (1866) was censored by Facebook and the legal battle that ensued ended up in court. It would appear that nothing escapes the eye in the world of multimedia and so our dilemma is: to paste or not to paste an emoji on a painting of a nude body? That is the question. In the meantime, an anti-myopia device seems a “bare” necessity. MADEINAREA In 2015, we worked alongside the Superintendency of the Archaeological Site of Pompeii on the complex task of reassessing and re-proposing the cultural offer. As a result of this project, we redefined the umbrella-name under which all of the archaeological area’s various sites could be grouped, reviving the Latin word “Pompeii” (which is used also in English) so as to distinguish the site from the present-day Italian city of Pompei (with one ‘i’). We also designed a ‘new’ branding inspired by the beautiful frescoes of the “Villa of the Mysteries”. On the basis of these identity elements, a comprehensive system was developed, ranging from signposts to new maps, from offline communication to the website. Finally, in order to convey the sense of this unique place (where life stood still at a terrible moment in time, yet continues to be palpable everywhere), we paired its name with the slogan “Tempus, vita”. Eternity has never been so close.

Even comfort, and getting cosy, are a matter of design. Think, for instance, of the relationship we enter into with the Pratone armchair as we sink into it as if we were settling down on a grassy meadow (as per the armchair’s name), its inviting polyurethane foam promising a comfy hug. The Salone del Mobile is celebrating its 60th birthday in 2022; one of the most significant innovations the Milan Furniture Fair introduced was latex foam which, in the 1950s, spread from the motor industry to that of our homes, bringing upholstery in line with that much, much older concept of relax – with which, indeed, it rhymed. Thus, the above Louis XIV-style Récamier smacks of prehistory: it seems highly improbable that we’d be able to chill out on it, despite those curls. Salone e Fuorisalone are back in full-swing from 7 to 12 June. After the long silence caused by the pandemic, this is going to be an ‘electrifying’ week, as well as a return to the high-voltage buzz that galvanizes Milan and the world of design.

The form of government that Italy was to assume from that day onwards was drawn up on 2 June 1946, and this was also partly thanks to “the May King”, as Umberto II came to be nicknamed. He was to rule but a few days because, earlier that same year, in March, he had signed the decree law calling an institutional referendum – one that would, hence, also decide his own destiny. Today, however, we’d like to look at the Italianness of this story by drawing the portrait of a young prince who, several years earlier, had designed the wedding gown for his Belgian bride, Marie José; one could conclude that Umberto was designer material, though he has gone down in the annals of history for not being such stuff as kings are made of. However, probably a lot of people were feeling somewhat out of joint that year: the men because their wrists had gone numb from years of not voting, the recently-franchised women because they were being called upon to do so for the very first time. Let’s try to picture ourselves entering the polling booths on that historical day, June 2nd, and seeing all those trembling ballot pencils. It’s a question of sharpening our imaginative skills – and perhaps even, given present-day habits, of “flagging” them! In any case, it was the choice of a Republic that emerged from the polls, a verdict that brought with it much controversy and suspicion; yet, we can no longer visualize Italy as being anything other than that. Hers is undoubtedly a complex and ever-changing identity … it is, however, one that can be drawn with simplicity.

How loudly is Europe resonating this week? The 12 gold stars on its flag take their rightful place “in the blue, painted in blue”. The reference to the lyrics of Domenico Modugno’s ultra-famous Italian song Volare is apt: in composing what was to become an icon of “Italianness”, the songster drew his inspiration from the blueness of the sky in a painting by (Russian artist) Chagall – we’re writing his nationality in cautious brackets. This week Turin is hosting the Eurovision Song Contest, the first edition of which, inspired by Italy’s Sanremo Music Festival, was held in 1956. However, if we scroll down the long list of winners from that first year onwards, we’ll find that most of these, alas, remained local celebrities only (excluding Abba who were given special permission to sing in English, rather than Swedish). Therefore, in order to ensure that we get something that’ll stand the test of time out of this week, we’ll need to work on the Contest’s basic components, i.e. sound and vision. For the former, let’s go for music without words. It may be a coincidence, but the concert dedicated to David Sassoli and celebrating Europe Day, held on the Capitol Hill in Rome on Monday, 9 May, opened with Vivaldi’s “Summer” concerto from The Four Seasons, a melody that doesn’t knock at the door but – spring having sprung – bursts in boldly. For the latter, let’s go for speaking images. It so happens that all over the continent this Saturday will be the European Night of Museums on which museums stay open until late into the night, with entrance tickets priced at a token cost. After all, the declaration that Robert Schuman delivered on 9 May 1950 (which marked the starting point of the European Union) has indeed stood the test of time. In those days, just like today, the big problems were steel, energy and wars and, in the words of the famous French Foreign Minister, “World peace cannot be safeguarded without the making of creative efforts proportionate to the dangers which threaten it.” Here, then, is our own composition which evokes only sound and vision; it’s our small creative contribution. A flowering of the imagination?

What if, in spite of all stereotypes, we were to tell you that the so-called epic film was actually born in Turin? It’s such a pity, though, that the silver screen’s association with Turin lasted no longer than the dusting of powder on a lady’s nose. The year was 1914, the film was entitled Cabiria, the production company was called Itala and the director’s name was Giovanni Pastrone – principally remembered (or not) for being Gabriele D’Annunzio’s ghostwriter: there’s no doubt that the resounding name of the Italian celebrity-poet was required to consolidate the “Seventh Art” beyond the national borders. It was just the ticket, and so Cabiria travelled all over America, was shown on Broadway and even at the White House: all and sundry appreciated the Italian knowhow – craftsmanship, versatility, ability to blend together content, music and animation – that went into the making of this motion picture, the length of which in itself (over 3,000 metres of film, as opposed to the 200 metres that were the world-average in those days) decreed that it would indeed be “epic”. If the film industry as we know it first saw the light in the shadow of the Mole, Turin’s landmark building, it makes perfect sense that this week an agreement has been signed between the National Museum of Cinema (which is housed inside the Mole) and Hollywood’s Academy Museum. The agreement provides for a restyling of the monumental building and a twinning between the two museums’ exhibitions and respective directors; it constitutes the first partnership in the world between film museums (which also include the Cinémathèque française, the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, the London Film Museum and the Eye Film Institute of Amsterdam). A makeover for the Mole, with the rest of the city also preparing to face the cameras this month as host of the Eurovision Song Contest, as well as of the Turin International Book Fair. We have a feeling that the elegant north Italian city won’t have a single moment to spare: not even to powder her nose.

We all know that the “the bee’s knees” denotes something, or someone, of excellence, often relating to professional zeal. Thus, when it comes to the so-called soft skills, the idiom may refer to performance, expectations, or even desires. “Candidates must have strong teamwork, problem-solving and team-building skills” is one of the most common list of requisites that you’ll read on LinkedIn. The winged insect that inspired all of these, ahem, buzzwords has always been associated with work of a collegial, honest and organised nature. It’s no coincidence, therefore, that bees have been adopted as logos for various workers’ unions and retail banks. And it’s precisely in this same spirit that the bee features on the coats of arms of 74 Italian municipalities, as well as on those of an unspecified number of cities and towns all over Europe. But the bee is also a symbol of immortality and resurrection, which is why it was chosen as a heraldic emblem, initially by the Merovingian dynasty, and later by Napoleon. The striped insect is so proud of its standing that it even evokes a certain propensity for grandeur, a point-in-case being when the Barberinis, a family from the Italian nobility, rose to prominence with the election (1623) of Cardinal Maffeo Barberini to the papal throne as Pope Urban VIII, they hastened to change their family symbol. From then onwards, the armorial bearings on the façades of their palaces and fountains featured three bees, replacing what had previously been gadflies. The Barberinis’ leap in status, from merchants to popes, behoved also their totem-insects to come up in the world and fly higher, as it were. All of which just goes to prove that when redesigning our identities and blazonry, we can “bee” whatever we want… This weekend, however, let’s unroll the socks and unravel the laces that make up our very own bee and take it to the town of San Benedetto del Tronto, in the Italian Marche region, and precisely to the sculpture (by Turin-born artist Ugo Nespolo) that stands proudly on promenade. On it, carved out in gigantic letters, one can read the following sentence: “Lavorare, lavorare, lavorare, preferisco il rumore del mare” (“Work, work, work, I prefer the sound of the sea”). Hardly a motivational Monday morning message but, rather, an invitation to drive out envy and greed from the workplace, attitudes that you’ll never find inside a beehive. Our bee is decidedly one of the highest standard and we feel it represents us. Happy May Day, Happy Labour Day. Original Evergreens We’re so fond of bees that we’ve adopted one as the symbol of Inarea because it’s an insect that knows how to create original products. When it came to depicting it, our designers allowed their creativity to run free… and the result was a mini beehive. MadeInarea In 1983, when we designed the symbol of Italy’s CGIL trade union, the idea of remote working, maybe from a seafront, wasn’t even remotely (!) imaginable. The logo, a visual identity system, was officially adopted by the union in 1986. Today, almost forty years on, we’re happy to note that the branding we conceived at that time still has an extremely contemporary look. Also when it comes to celebrating this year’s International Workers’ Day!

The 59th International Art Exhibition of the Venice Biennale throws open its doors tomorrow and if we take a peep through the keyhole, as we have done over these past few days of previews, we get the feeling that it’s going to be an edition worthy of The Thousand and One Nights (AKA The Arabian Nights). This Biennale will feature ‘stories’, mostly told by women artists (191) from countries such as Dakar, Venezuela or Iran. The inspiration comes from The Milk of Dreams, a children’s story-book written by artist Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) who was born in England, lived in Paris (where she bonded with the Surrealists, becoming one of them herself), and later chose to go and live in Mexico, a country she saw as a pure and green Eden and which, in turn, raised her to the status of a national heroine. Leonora’s biography exudes southern magic and sets the tone for this exhibition which unfolds between the Biennale Gardens and the Venetian Arsenal: 1433 works by 213 artists from 58 countries. Accordingly, we’ve prepared a telescope with a feminine flavour (or shade) for this 59th Biennale, one that will allow us to look upwards at the stars: not only because that’s where dreams are to be found, but also so as to divert our eyes away from the present. After all, as the title of the Italian Pavilion featuring artist Gian Maria Tosatti reminds us, although we may be living through a “History of the Night”, there’s no doubt that a “Destiny of Comets” will follow. And we’d definitely like to start keeping a sharp lookout for this new Milky Way.

WHY COMPANIES NEED KIND LEADERS Taking our cue from the long-standing question “Which came first: the chicken or the egg?”, by the same token we could ask ourselves which animal holds exclusive rights to Easter: the rabbit or the hare? While we’ve no doubt that general opinion today would opt for the bunny rabbit, in the old days the choice would instead have fallen on the hare, that fast and fertile deity of the woodlands: indeed, so quick-off-the-mark that the appropriately-called “March Hares” were among the first inhabitants of the forest to wake from hibernation and bounce into action amidst the early spring primroses. All these coincidences – whether relating to time or species – explain why none other than good ol’ Br’er Hare was the archetypal critter associated with Easter. An epochal shift occurred at a certain moment in history and the Easter Bunny became the chosen member of the Leporid family tasked with bringing eggs to children at Eastertide (a tradition that originated in Germany between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance). Unlike its cousin, the energetic hare, the rabbit is a burrower and a cocooner. However, a comfort zone isn’t always a place to come out of, as testified by our bright-eyed and bushy-tailed example above, about to be rolled out and filled with eggies: without splitting hairs, let’s call it an Easter stocking. Happy Easter from all of us at Inarea Seasonal Identities The late 19th-century psychologist Joseph Jastrow used to show this drawing to children: on Easter Sunday, they would see it as a rabbit, while in October as a duck. The “rabbit-duck” image is the quintessential “interpretative illusion”. MadeInarea Rabbit or hare? Italo had no doubts as to which of the two could best represent the idea of high-speed and lightness at the same time. We gave it a distinctive branding and, in so doing, created a well-known and much-loved trademark (2011)