The Art of Generosity - The Story of a Painter and a Benefactor

More than a century ago, in 1875, my great-grandfather Antonio Bardi -- then 13 years old -- met by chance in Florence the Brazilian artist and scientist Pedro Amerigo. For some reason, the Brazilian gentleman thought that the boy had some artistic talent and he helped him to study in the Florentine Academy of Art. This story is part of the family lore, but it also appeared in the newspapers. And, recently, Marcilio Franca wrote about it in a Brazilian newspaper.

Here it is the piece by Franca, translated into English -- the Portuguese original follows

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The Art of Generosity
by Marcilio Franca
Visiting Professor at the University of Turin


It was a hot morning on Monday, August 9, 1875, when Turin's Gazzetta Piemontese newspaper brought good news to its readers.

The cover emphasized that, a few days before, a small boy was drawing in front of the Uffizi in Florence, when he happened to meet by Pedro Américo, the great Brazilian painter who, a year before, lived a few blocks from the museum created by the Medici.

The news was that, on the way to the convent of Santissima Annunziata, where he held an atelier to paint the gigantic "The Battle of Avaí", commissioned by Pedro II, Américo found a poor boy who was able to draw at ease popular drawings in exchange for the generosity of the passers-by. Americo noticed the young man's talent and asked where he was studying. The boy, described by Gazzetta as sad-eyed, thin and pale-faced, reported that he lacked the conditions to go to school. Antonio Bardi was thirteen. The boy's embarrassed response followed Pedro Américo's offer: he would pay for his studies thereafter. Yes!

A few days ago, I had a chance to exchange some words with the great-grandson of that great-uncle's son-in-law. Ugo Bardi, Professor at the University of Florence, told me that Americo made hisgreat-grandfather apprentice and then helped him enter the exclusive Accademia Fiorentina. Thanks to the Brazilian godfather, he broke the life of poverty that had lasted for some generations in his home.
 
Antonio Bardi painted for almost thirty years, until a disease in sight at the age of 45 forced him to stop. He died in 1924, married and with several children.
 
What neither Bardi nor Gazzetta knew was that Pedro Américo, with the gesture, revived his own destiny. A prodigal boy in the tiny Sand, in the interior of Paraíba, Americo was not even ten when, in 1852, he was discovered by the French naturalist Louis Jacques Brunet. There began the profession that led him to win the world.

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A Arte da Generosidade

Marcilio Franca

Era uma manhã quente de segunda-feira, 9 de agosto de 1875, quando o jornal Gazzetta Piemontese, de Turim, chegou aos seus leitores com uma boa notícia.

A capa destacava que, dias antes, um menino franzino desenhava em frente ao Uffizi, em Florença, ao ser interpelado por Pedro Américo, o grande pintor brasileiro que, há um ano, morava a algumas quadras do museu criado pelos Medici.

A notícia dava conta de que, a caminho do convento de Santissima Annunziata, onde mantinha um ateliê para pintar a gigantesca “A Batalha do Avaí”, encomendada por Pedro II, Américo deparou-se com um garoto pobre que desenhava com desenvoltura temas de agrado popular, em troca da generosidade dos passantes. Américo notou o talento do jovem e perguntou onde ele estudava. O menino, descrito pela Gazzetta como de olhos tristes, rosto magro e empalidecido, informou que lhe faltavam condições para ir à escola. Antônio Bardi tinha treze anos. À resposta encabulada do garoto seguiu-se a oferta de Pedro Américo: pagaria seus estudos a partir de então. Sim!
Há poucos dias, tive a chance de trocar umas palavras com o bisneto daquele menino da notícia. Ugo Bardi, Professor da Universidade de Florença, contou-me que Américo fez do seu bisavô aprendiz e, depois, o ajudou a entrar na disputada Accademia Fiorentina. Graças ao padrinho brasileiro, rompeu a vida de pobreza que já durava algumas gerações em seu lar.  
Antônio Bardi pintou por quase trinta anos, até que uma doença na vista, por volta dos 45 anos, forçou-o a parar. Veio a falecer casado e com filhos, em 1924.
O que nem os Bardi nem a Gazzetta sabiam é que Pedro Américo, com o gesto, revivia o seu próprio destino. Menino prodígio na pequenina Areia, interior da Paraíba, Américo não tinha sequer dez anos quando, em 1852, foi descoberto pelo naturalista francês Louis Jacques Brunet. Começava ali a profissão que o levou a ganhar o mundo.

Professor Visitante da Universidade de Turim

The Ecstasy of Caravaggio

Caravaggio's Our Lady of the Pilgrims (image from Wikipedia)


Every time I happen to be in Rome for one reason or another, I usually make an effort to take some free time to go to see Caravaggio's "Our Lady of the Pilgrims." Often, I succeed because it is not very far from the central train station, in the Church of St. Augustine.

And I can tell you that, every time I have a chance to see this painting, it is a new shock, a new emotion, a new sensation, something that usually forces me to sit down somewhere, typically on the steps in front of the church, to recover my wits. Then, I can walk to the station and take the train home, a little shocked, but happy. 

I am not sure if I can comment on this painting (*); it is beyond my capabilities. Let me just say that Caravaggio managed an extraordinary feat. He is showing here ordinary people: an ordinary young mother with her child, ordinary travelers with their walking canes, with their feet dirty of a long, long walk. And, yet, at the same time, that woman is the all-holy Mother of God, truly the Panagia Theotokos herself, a miracle that repeats itself for me every time I am there. And it keeps going forever for the two figures kneeling in the painting who have been adoring this manifestation of the divine spirit for more than four centuries; never getting tired of doing that.

I don't know if everyone gets the same feeling when they see this painting; probably not. But for some of us, Caravaggio is not just a painter of religious subjects, he is a religion himself. And a painting such as the Lady of the Pilgrims is not just a painting about a religious revelation, it is a revelation in itself.

So, if you have a chance to be in Rome, try to take a look to this painting by Caravaggio, then you'll tell me what effect it made on you.




(*) But I might perhaps cite something written by the Emir Abd Al-Qadir around a century ago. As well known, Islam is not interested in images, but I think these words catch something of the mystical experience that at times come to people. Maybe the good Emir would have understood the meaning of Caravaggio's painting. 

"Our God and the God of all the communities opposing ours are truly and really a unique God, in agreement with what He said in several verses "Your God is a unique God" (Cor. 2:163; 16; 22, etc.). He also said: "There is no God but God" (Cor. 3:62). It is like this despite the diversity of His theophanies, their character absolute or limited, transcendent or immanent, and the variety of His manifestations. He manifested Himself to Moslems beyond all forms at the same time manifesting Himself in all forms. To the Christians, He manifested Himself in the person of Christ and of monks, as He says in the Book. To the Jews, He manifested Himself in the form of 'Uzayr and of the rabbis. To the Mazdians, in the form of fire, and to the dualists in the light and in the obscurity. And it manifested Himself to every worshipper of anything - stone, tree, or animal..  - in the shape of that thing: because no worshipper of a finite thing worships it for what it is itself. What he worships is the epiphany in that form of the attributes of the true God - be He exalted - with this epiphany representing, for each form, the divine aspect that pertains to Him."

Translated from "Abd el-Kader le magnanime", Gallimard 2003




H/t Antonio Cavaliere for having inoculated me with the Caravaggio virus