China in the Frame : Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums [1 ed.] 9781443873062, 9781443870719

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China in the Frame

China in the Frame Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums By

Iside Carbone

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums By Iside Carbone This book first published 2015 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2015 by Iside Carbone All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-7071-4 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-7071-9

To my daughters Medea and Maia

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements .................................................................................. viii Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Chapter One ............................................................................................... 18 Theoretical Framework Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 37 Cineserie in Italian Displays: Towards New Interactions of Cultural Identities. Part I: Permanent Exhibitions Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 67 Cineserie in Italian Displays: Towards New Interactions of Cultural Identities. Part II: Temporary Exhibitions Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 93 Objects and the Enchantment of China: The Interaction of Materiality, Agency, and Knowledge Chapter Five ............................................................................................ 116 Visual Representations of China: Variability in Function and Effect Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 137 Italian Literary Representations of China: Displaying China in the Narration—Narrating China in the Display Conclusion ............................................................................................... 166 Notes........................................................................................................ 179 Bibliography ............................................................................................ 186 Index ........................................................................................................ 215

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The years dedicated to this research and to write this book have been by no means easy and without obstacles, in both my academic and personal life. I am therefore indebted to a number of people, with the help of whom I have been able to complete this project. I wish, first of all, to express my gratitude to Professor Emeritus Mike Rowlands. All along, I have benefited from his precious advice, useful suggestions and constructive criticism. With patience and with a friendly, understanding attitude he has assisted me in solving theoretical issues and methodological problems at different stages of my investigation. I am also grateful for the scholarship granted by the Arts and Humanities Research Council. This award constituted, at the beginning of my PhD programme, an encouraging recognition of the validity of my research plan, and has provided the financial means to conduct this study. A work like this could have not been carried out without the cooperation of my informants. Special thanks go to Lucia Caterina, Paola Giusti, Annalisa Porzio, Sabrina Rastelli, Maurizio Scarpari, Camillo Tonini, who have allowed me to gain access to materials that I could have not reached on my own and who have opened the door to contacts that I could have not established independently. Finishig touches can make a big difference. My colleague Helen EarlFraser has provided priceless assistance by bravely taking on the onerous task of reading the whole manuscript, adding further appropriate suggestions. A particular mention is due to the extraordinary support and incessant encouragement that I have received from my family for this project as well as for all the other ventures in my life. The firm and affectionate guidance from my father Modestino and the reassuring and loving assistance from my mother Rita have always been and will always be invaluable. Last but certainly not least, immense gratefulness goes to my sister Elettra, who has given me incredible moral and practical backing. Her feedback and comments, together with her cheerful and positive attitude, have been extremely helpful all the way through.

INTRODUCTION

Museum displays of artworks produced or inspired by cultures different from that of the host environment provide much more than just an enjoyable aesthetic experience. The information that they transmit goes well beyond the specific narrative proposed to the visitors. The items presented and the ways in which they are arranged disclose an array of attitudes towards and relations to the Other. They are as telling of the represented culture as illuminating on the representing one. It is from this perspective that my research focuses on the dialectical connection between the circulation, reception and perception of Chinese artistic goods in Italy and the ever‫ޤ‬evolving Italian representations of ideas of China. The critical presentation of this topic allows me to analyse in an original, effective way the processes of materialisation of cultural identities. More in detail, the distinctive characteristics of the history of material and cultural exchange between Italy and China as well as the peculiar Italian cultural reality, with its regional particularities, unifying factors and influences from other European cultures, will show in this research how representations of a cultural Other are often entangled with phenomena of cultural self‫ޤ‬expression. In other words, as the title suggests, this book explores representations of ideas of China as they are arranged and perceived within a structure of multiple frames, namely the frame of the various materials in which they are embedded, the frame of the display context and circumstances and the frame of the wider cultural environment where they take shape and perform their function. This project, originally born as a PhD thesis, was inspired by the iconographical and technical analysis that I carried out in my previous studies on the Chinese export watercolours in the collections of the British Museum. Mainly depicting various Chinese motifs and scenes, these paintings are part of the Chinese export art produced in workshops in Canton for western markets from the late seventeenth century well into the nineteenth century. While few art historians (Jourdain and Jenyns 1950; Crossman 1972, 1991; Clunas 1987; Jackson 2004) have recognised the significance of the artistic production for export in the history of Chinese art and East‫ޤ‬West relations, the role of these travelling objects and images in the affirmation and manifestation of certain ideas of China in the West has not been given the scholarly attention it deserves. For this reason, I

2

Introduction

started to explore the socio‫ޤ‬cultural implications behind the circulation of artistic goods and its impact on the ways the recipients make sense of and relate to the distant producers. Following such a line of investigation, it became evident that the analysis of the issues at stake required the adoption of an anthropological perspective based, to begin with, on theories concerning the social life and involvement of things (Appadurai 1988; 1990) and the agency of art objects (Gell 1998) both as carriers of meanings, knowledge and ideas (Tilley 1990; 1991) and as mediators in the transcultural exchange through commodity networks (Miller 1998). A preliminary examination in these terms therefore led me to conduct the research of which this book is the outcome, intended as a contribution to the field of material culture studies. In order to achieve an understanding as full as possible in the pursuit of this goal, I decided to concentrate my attention on instances and materials already familiar to me through my expertise in the history of Chinese art, my involvement in activities for the public at the British Museum, and my personal Italian cultural background. According to these criteria, I identified a number of representative contemporary permanent and recent temporary exhibitions of Chinese artefacts and Italian chinoiserie, namely works of art produced in Italy—as well as all over Europe—following a “Chinese inspiration” especially during the eighteenth century. I chose to focus my investigation on the context of public displays because the latter offer an ideal ground for the observation of cultural phenomena and evolving cultural characteristics. I hence regard the museum in the sense specified by Robert Lumley (1988: 2) “as a potent social metaphor and as a means whereby societies represent their relationship to their own history and to that of other cultures”. The close, essential link that binds together dynamic cultural, intercultural, social and historical elements is particularly evident in the development of museum conditions in Italy. “The Italian museum reality”—Antonella Huber (1997: 13) explains—is conditioned by “the widespread environmental historicization and its outstanding heritage”, which, more than elsewhere, has favoured “the adaptation of historic spaces to museographic developments”. This has consequently resulted in “a laborious search for a balance between monumental buildings and new uses, between ancient collections and new users”, mirroring, in other words, the struggles of cultural transitions and social changes. The selection of examples to analyse was predominantly dictated by two principles. On the one hand, I chose as destinations of my research in the field Naples, Rome, Florence, Venice, Genoa and Turin. These cities all share particular past and present links and contacts with a China that is

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

3

perceived by Italians to be a whole, all‫ޤ‬comprehensive Chinese entity. They are also characterised by peculiar traits of local cultural identity embedded, at the same time, in what is recognised as a complex and variegated Italian national identity. On the other hand, the museum collections and displays considered had to provide, through curatorial practices and the public’s responses, clear indications of old and new Italian attitudes not only towards Chinese arts, but also towards China as a cultural entity. In this regard, I point out that in my research I have taken into account Chinese artistic manifestations of various natures, types, and times as well as different kinds of Italian artistic re‫ޤ‬elaborations of Chinese themes and products. As a matter of fact, I quickly realised in my fieldwork that all these “things Chinese” or cineserie—as I call them in this book, adopting the colloquial term commonly used by Italians themselves—played and still play their part in the multifaceted materialisations of ideas of China. On the basis of the available materials and initial assumptions described so far, I then set off to cast light on two main problematic issues, as I explain below. On a general level, through my case study I intend to illustrate to what extent and according to what mechanisms the interaction with “foreign” artefacts—circulated through different times and routes, assimilated, adapted, transformed and displayed by the recipients—affects the acquisition, transmission and elaboration of ideas and knowledge of “stranger” cultures. This will be achieved more immediately and directly by observing the techniques of display and the choices of spatial arrangement of artistic objects executed or inspired by Others in museum contexts. At the same time, considering the same set of data, it will be necessary to look more closely at the life history of the collections and of the objects themselves. Cognitive processes will in fact become more understandable if patterns in the transfer and adoption of “exotic” technologies and in the integration and interaction of “exotic” elements in “local” cultural environments can be recognised. On a particular level, I aim at proving the specificity of the case of Italian phenomenological experiences and epistemological approaches to China under investigation in this research. Already in the early stages of my fieldwork, an inextricable link emerged clearly between the peculiarities of the Italian context and the modalities of reception and perception of a diverse range of artefacts representing China in different ways. Hence, examining the variety of examples in this book it will be possible to ascertain how different local exhibitive attitudes and circumstances contribute to typical Italian modes of elaborating visions of a Chinese cultural Other. Similarly, it will be considered whether these

4

Introduction

elaborations are in effect self‫ޤ‬representations of Italian local identities realised in relation to the construction of difference.

Underlying issues Especially at the beginning of my research, I referred to an indicative literature of studies conducted by specialists in various fields on the themes of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian relations and Chinese artistic products in Italy, so crucial for my investigation. These texts guided me to better identify significant phenomena and circumstances on which to concentrate my analysis. They also alerted me to look for a number of key elements that have been so far neglected by scholars dealing with the topics of my interest. The seminal and extensive work Asia and the Making of Europe by Donald F. Lach (1965) has proved an enlightening historical study inasmuch as it emphasises the dynamic and mutual character of the relations between China and Europe through the context of East‫ޤ‬West contacts over many centuries. The fundamental consideration that also emerges from Lach’s work is the fact that material exchange by means of trade has had a substantial impact not only on the way Europeans have, at different times, perceived and known oriental cultures, but also on the way Europeans have been perceiving and developing their own cultures. The “culturally inflected dynamics of relationships between moments of production, circulation and consumption” (Hughes and Reimer 2004: 3) of goods, already at work in the economic and cultural networks of the past, have nowadays become more evident in a globalised world where people and commodities can travel with their cultural baggage farther and faster than ever. My research, thus, arrives timely, at a moment when the awareness and understanding of distant Others is a crucial issue as previously far‫ޤ‬removed cultural realities move closer through people’s migrations and distribution of commodities in unprecedented proportions. This is the situation that applies to the relationship between Chinese and European cultures in our times. As a matter of fact, China as a cultural entity has gradually become part of the everyday life of many societies in Europe, as Chinese communities establish themselves in cities and towns and a huge variety of mass‫ޤ‬produced Chinese products are consumed. Such a phenomenon triggers questions about how much and what information about China is actually available to the general public in European countries, how this information reflects new circumstances, and to what extent it is a legacy of contacts in the past.

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

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It is worth noticing that the long tradition of contacts between Italy and China has inspired a rich corpus of informative literature. Travel accounts including descriptions and observations on Chinese geography and landscapes as well as on the customs of Chinese people were produced already from the thirteenth century onwards and, in increasing quantity, especially from the sixteenth century onwards, as travelling from Europe to Asia intensified thanks to more direct and reliable maritime connections. The wealth of documentation on China produced in Europe between the sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries, as catalogued by the sinologist Hartmut Walravens (1987) for an exhibition at the Herzog August Bibliothek in the Lower Saxony town of Wolfenbüttel, is very telling in this respect. These sources demonstrate that at the time when travel conditions to China via sea‫ޤ‬routes were just improving, people from various socio‫ޤ‬cultural and professional backgrounds, missionaries to traders, to leisure travellers, shared the interest in acquiring and divulgating information about that distant land. Taking into account the abundance of these more or less accurate data from ancient sources and the easy access to more objective and precise data through modern advanced information technology, I try in my research to reconcile these two approaches to knowledge of the Other, which still appear to overlap and complement each other in contemporary general conceptions of China. In the light of these observations, what I am mostly concerned within my study is how material things—in my case predominantly artefacts—act in the definition and recognition of socio‫ޤ‬cultural relations and expressions of identities at all times. The 2004 exhibition Encounters. The Meeting of Asia and Europe 1500ӊ1800 at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London highlighted this concept, as it emerges from the catalogue and collection of essays curated by Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer (2004). It showed in fact that the interaction of European peoples with Asian decorative and applied arts has played through the centuries an instrumental role in the development of European attitudes towards and interest in the cultural realities of the East. In addition, it cannot be ignored—and the reader will be reminded of this throughout this book—that the process of making sense of the cultures of the Others through materiality is accompanied by the mirror process of making use of the same materiality to express—with a variable degree of intentionality—one’s own culture. This point is stressed by Virginia Dellino‫ޤ‬Musgrave (2005: 219‫ޤ‬243) in an article from the Journal of Material Culture. In this piece, analysing the patterns of production and consumption of the cargo on an eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Royal Navy shipwreck, she illustrates how Chinese export porcelain and English

6

Introduction

Chinese‫ޤ‬like pottery can be seen as embodiments and manifestations of “British identities”. The ambivalence in the interaction between people and material culture adds complexity to the mechanisms and results of cultural representations. This is particularly evident if we consider the phenomenon of eighteenth‫ޤ‬century chinoiserie, which originated from fanciful perceptions of Chinese art and developed into European artistic products. These artefacts not only reflected an approximate acquaintance with and an idealised vision of Chinese reality, but also manifested traits peculiar to European cultures. The overview of the artistic implications of chinoiserie in Europe by Oliver Impey (1977) and more specific studies such as the one by Helen Espir (2005) on the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century European practice of applying chinoiserie decorations on Chinese porcelain well exemplify this cultural stratification. The discrepancies noticed by art historians such as Craig Clunas (1998) and Catherine Pagani (1998) in the reception of Chinese art and the notions of Chinese culture in Britain between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries have been so far mostly explained in terms of colonialist discourse, namely as a consequence of an imperialist attitude that dismisses Chinese culture as inferior, nonetheless appreciating the exoticism of Chinese art (Barringer and Flynn 1998: 1‫ޤ‬8). This interpretation can be at least partially accepted in the light of the historic unfulfilled colonising ambitions of the British Empire over China and a certain British reluctance—in the nostalgia for the colonial power of the past—to abandon even in our times the diminutive stereotypes towards a now technologically advanced and economically powerful China. However, I argue in this book that such a view cannot constitute a generalisation in all cases. Recuperating the argument exposed above, what seems to be a contradiction or inconsistency in the intersection between self‫ޤ‬affirmation and the perception of material culture, knowledge, and representation of the Other can be rather considered from the perspective of the constant dialectic tension between people’s interaction with materiality and cultural encounters. The Italian case study that I have chosen for my research lends itself to the discussion of this point in the chapters that follow. As a matter of fact, it can be said that, on the whole, the relationship between Italy and China has not been historically characterised by conflicting political interests in terms of an Italian colonialist project over China. Even the period of the small Italian concession in the city of Tianjin (1901‫ޤ‬1947) — as Giorgio Borsa (1961; 1994 239‫ޤ‬291) explains in detail—saw a climate of diplomatic, economic and technical cooperation between Italian and Chinese political authorities, which deteriorated only at the time of Italy’s

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

7

alliance with Japan and Germany during World War II. Italy had acquired a half‫ޤ‬square‫ޤ‬kilometre leased zone in Tianjin following its participation with other foreign forces in the defeat of the Boxer Uprising of 1900‫ޤ‬1901 against the intrusion of foreigners in Chinese affairs. However, the Italian presence in the concession was minimal and Italy lost control of this area to the Japanese in 1940, before the territory was officially returned to China after World War II by peace treaty. Apart from this episode, it can be said, instead, that the balance between the two parts has shifted to the side of China on a number of occasions through the centuries. It is known that Marco Polo (1254‫ޤ‬1324) served the emperor Kublai Khan (1215‫ޤ‬1294) as diplomatic functionary during his stay in China from 1274 to 1291 and that Italian artists and men of letters—especially Jesuit missionaries— were at the imperial service at the peak of Qing dynasty’s splendour in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. As for Italian proselytising Christian missions, their impact on the Chinese was, on the whole, neither consistent nor substantial. Furthermore, China, seen as an emerging power on a global scale, is today considered in Italy as a sought‫ޤ‬after partner in entrepreneurial and cultural activities. Besides detaching itself from the application of post‫ޤ‬colonialist theorisations with respect to representations of the Other, the Italian instance proves to be peculiar also in the fact that Italy does not present itself as a unitary entity. This is due to historical circumstances under which—Franco Ferrarotti (1997) explains—Italians share a strong and ancient socio‫ޤ‬anthropological identity, but their political national identity is still young, weak and incomplete. The history of Italy, since the fall of the Western Roman Empire in 476, has been, in fact, characterised by various forms of political divisions, such as the medieval and Renaissance independent city‫ޤ‬states and the regional States in the hands of Italian aristocrats and the Pope or subordinated to foreign—French, Spanish, Austrian—rulers from the sixteenth century up to the country’s unification in 1861. In this unstable environment, a common cultural development and an idea of Italy as a geographic and historical entity co‫ޤ‬existed in the collective imagination side by side with regional differences and rivalries. The outcome of this situation is the ambiguity of what Aldo Schiavone (1998) illustrates as a fragmentation in many local cultural identities, which, at the same time, make up a collective Italian identity. Thus, the question that remains to be answered in the context of my research is whether the multivocality of Italian self‫ޤ‬perceptions and self‫ޤ‬representations translates into original multivocal Italian representations of China. As for the history of contacts and relations between Italy and China, this has been variously outlined in extensive works such as Italia e Cina

8

Introduction

by Giuliano Bertuccioli and Federico Masini (1996), in more limited and specific studies like the collections of essays Venezia e l’Oriente edited by Lionello Lanciotti (1987), and in research anthologies with a wider scope as Firenze, il Giappone e l’Asia Orientale by Adriana Boscaro and Maurizio Bossi (2001). Yet, despite the long‫ޤ‬established and still intense relationship between Italy and China, an anthropological analysis of this cultural encounter and exchange has not yet been carried out. Moreover, with regards to Italian interactions with Chinese artefacts and the link between these material perceptions and knowledge and representations of Chinese cultural identity, information is available mostly from an art historical point of view in the more or less detailed catalogues of museum collections including Chinese art and Italian chinoiserie and temporary exhibitions on Chinese themes. An example of this kind is the catalogue of oriental porcelain in Genoese civic collections edited by Laura Zenone Padula (1992). In this publication, the long tradition of trade contacts between Genoa and China, the popularity of Chinese porcelain and the taste for chinoiserie among Genoese people especially in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are highlighted. The most recent in‫ޤ‬depth research on Italian chinoiserie has been conducted by Francesco Morena (2009) and has been published both in Italian and in English with the title Chinoiserie. The Evolution of the Oriental Style in Italy from the 14th to the 19th Century. This work undoubtedly has the merit of being the first to follow the whole history of Chinese‫ޤ‬inspired decorative arts as they developed with local variations throughout Italy. However, what is still lacking is a critical investigation with the aim of treating the material culture of Chinese art displays from a phenomenological point of view that considers ways of perceiving and presenting these exhibitions as manifestations of ways of relating to and elaborating ideas of the culture that produced them. It is in this gap in scholarly output that I position my research, trying to tackle these unexplored issues in detail. The purpose of this book is thus that of encouraging a response and opening a debate in which finally anthropologists and not only historians and art historians have their say.

Fieldwork: method and experience Having established that the main task in my fieldwork would be to understand the thought and the workings behind Italian contemporary permanent displays and recent temporary exhibitions of cineserie, I came to the conclusion that in order to carry out this project effectively, I should work most of all with curators. From them I could gather an insight into

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9

museum histories, collections histories, and management and exhibition planning. The bulk of the fieldwork in museums, chiefly looking at permanent displays, took place between October 2006 and June 2007. During these months, I spent some time—from one to three weeks—at each of the institutions I had selected following the activities of the curators and studying the collections directly in their daily interaction with museum staff and visitors. After this period, I have kept in contact with most of my informants so as to be up‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬date with the state of the collections and any new projects until December 2008. The fieldwork regarding more specifically temporary exhibitions has developed according to a different pattern, depending on the events scheduled over approximately the same time span, up to November 2008, when the last exhibition included in my investigation closed. Even though I do not treat in this book temporary displays that have been taking place after this date, I have nevertheless kept myself informed about later events. For the purpose of this research, fieldwork has been an essential phase and a determinant exercise that has allowed me to collect all the empirical data necessary for the subsequent analytical evaluation. In the tradition of anthropological studies, fieldwork is, in fact, the direct observation of specific cultural phenomena taking place in a defined cultural environment. Although it is generally agreed that a research design, namely a logical basic plan, is indispensable before going “into the field”, it must be recognised that the reality of the research in the field is always more complex than a neat and linear scheme. In particular, Simon Ottenberg (1990: 141) points out that “the early field situation resembles childhood in many respects”. Fieldwork—he continues—is thus a learning process whereby “as we acquire knowledge and experience, we have a sense of growth, of adolescence, of maturation, much as children do”. Such observations very well apply to the circumstances of my fieldwork, as with this project I have conducted for the first time a thorough anthropological research. In particular, my first trip into the field resulted into an exploratory work that allowed me to rebalance my original plan and to correct my research techniques and procedures in the rest of the fieldwork. As I already realised at an early stage of my investigation, fieldwork cannot be bound to fixed formulae and pre‫ޤ‬established hypotheses. On the contrary, it requires an approach open to the totality and variety of information, and characterised by an initial set of generally framed aims. The latter becomes more and more precise as the materials collected are interpreted on the basis of phenomenological experience. In a combination of “action” and contemplation, “empirical certainty” and “intuitive reminders” (Okely 1994: 32), the continuous dialogue between evidence,

10

Introduction

ideas and theory makes it possible to refine, reassess and reformulate hypotheses as the fieldwork proceeds. My research design originally took into account broader issues concerning the relations between the circulation of objects/images and cultural flows. However, it later embraced a more specific analysis of peculiarities and patterns of reception and perception of things and elaboration of ideas of China. In order to organise my fieldwork, I selected sites, places to visit as well as informants to meet, bearing in mind the fundamental aspects that I needed to discern and compare: collecting of Chinese artefacts, characteristics of chinoiserie production, museum display policies, scholarly and curatorial approaches, historical connections with other cultural realities, relationship between local cultural traditions and Italian national identity. When considering fieldwork locations, it is important to remember— as emphasised by Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson (1997: 35‫ޤ‬39) —that even if the fieldworker operates within circumscribed geographical spaces, the “field” intended as social, cultural and political space has much more flexible and shifting boundaries. Furthermore, since space is empirically experienced and phenomenologically understood, the sites of anthropological research are not only the background against which fieldwork takes place, but also constitute a lively, concrete element that needs to be taken into account as part of the research practice itself. As a matter of fact, I deemed it essential to be aware of the dynamics occurring between the objects and the people under exam in their spatial settings intended as enclosed places—such as museums and palaces—and geographical locations, namely the Italian cities chosen as representative destinations. At the same time, given the subjective nature of fieldwork, I could not avoid taking into consideration my own perception of the places and sites I visited. The type and quantity of data gathered also depended significantly on the kind of relationship I established with my informants—mainly curators and scholars, but also members of the general public—according to their disposition towards my research and their availability. Hence, in the most favourable circumstances, informal interviews based on open questions had the advantage of helping to build a better rapport with my interlocutors, contributing to the freedom and spontaneity of the answers. However, such a method was only possible when plenty of time was available and the interviewee was willing to provide data in a varied and detailed way. Otherwise, I mostly had to adopt the format of semi‫ޤ‬structured interviewing, which H. Russell Bernard (2002: 205) particularly recommends “in situations where you won’t get more than one chance to interview someone”, and “you are dealing with high‫ޤ‬level

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11

bureaucrats and elite members of a community”. As a matter of fact, this technique proved suitable and efficient with the majority of my informants, whom I could meet just once or would only grant me a limited number of semi‫ޤ‬official and relatively short meetings. In such circumstances, semi‫ޤ‬structured interviews require a certain level of interviewing skills, as the interviewer has to follow a pre‫ޤ‬established set of questions in a specific order, trying, at the same time, to maintain a degree of free‫ޤ‬wheeling in the conversation. As stressed by Abraham Naftali Oppenheim (1992: 65), some basic abilities in interpersonal relations are essential for the correct and successful handling of an interview: “putting the respondent at ease, asking questions in an interested manner, noting down the responses without upsetting the conversational flow, giving support without introducing bias”. As I have been able to observe during the whole fieldwork experience, the results of an interview depend not only on the informant’s attitude and personality, but also on the interviewer’s self‫ޤ‬presentation and impression on the respondents. It is, therefore, necessary to quickly detect and manage these elements, especially when meeting people for the first time. In fact, sometimes I could win over the initial scepticism by being patient and trying to emphasise the aspects that might attract the attention of my interlocutors, for example providing them with information on topics of common interest. In some cases, I was lucky to find helpful respondents who would demonstrate spontaneous curiosity towards my research and genuine interest in the results that my study would have eventually produced. Besides answering my questions, they were assisting me to find useful reference materials and to approach other informants, thus contributing to the expansion of my network of contacts. In other cases, the operation of getting hold of informants and interviewing them was a frustrating experience. Lack of cooperation was usually due to indifference, scepticism or resistance towards my investigation. However, I always tried to put my personal resentment aside in order to acquire as much data as possible and not to influence the interviewee’s answers with my behaviour. As it is generally the case in a qualitative research like mine, there is the disadvantage of having to handle a large amount of comprehensive data, usually collected following only partially structured procedures and criteria. However, this gives to the researcher the chance to explore unlimited theoretical and pragmatic possibilities, which will be selected and circumscribed at a later, more advanced stage of the inductive analytical process.

12

Introduction

In the attempt to regulate an overwhelming flow of information generated throughout the fieldwork experience, fieldnotes are an indispensable instrument. In my written notes I tried to be as precise and detailed as possible, articulating the fieldnotes into observations on the spot, descriptions of events, impressions and perceptions on the day and on specific situations. A crucial part of my notes is constituted by the instantaneous transcription of the interviews. I had decided beforehand not to use tape recorders, because I deemed it would have made the kind of informants I was going to address uneasy and ill‫ޤ‬disposed, jeopardising the spontaneity and straightforwardness of their answers. Thus, I followed the practice of transcribing the conversations with my informants simultaneously as they happened. Looking at the experience retrospectively, this decision seems to have been effective as it allowed me to build up a satisfactory rapport with a number of respondents in a relaxed, informal atmosphere, whereas it has made some difficult interviews in tense circumstances sustainable. The only piece of equipment I always carried with me was my camera, so as to document objects and spaces in different contexts as well as the general settings for my case studies. While analysing fieldnotes after the fieldwork, it is important to bear in mind that these notes are characterised by a personal nature. A certain degree of bias, based on the researcher’s personal preferences and preconceptions, must be taken into account. In addition, it is necessary to be aware of the fact that the dialogue between fieldnotes and what Ottenberg (1990: 144‫ޤ‬148) calls “headnotes” continues after the field experience, throughout the writing‫ޤ‬up process. In this respect, Ottenberg stresses that the memories of field research, though richer than written notes, may undergo alterations in time, causing a change in the interpretation of the written materials themselves. For this reason, in order to avoid major misconstructions and to verify the correspondence of mental impressions, written records and actual facts, it might be useful, during the writing‫ޤ‬up phase, to return for a short period to some of the locations already examined. The peculiar relationship between fieldnotes and headnotes reflects the direct involvement of the researcher, whose inevitable immersion in the field—as emphasised by George J. McCall (2006: 3)—entails the “inclusion of the observer in the subject matter itself” and produces a phenomenon of “reflexiveness”. The task of disentangling the data keeping separate objective observation and subjective perception becomes even more challenging when, as in the case of my research, the distinction of the field as a space of cultural otherness cannot be applied. Carrying out fieldwork in cultural settings I belong to has put me in the ambivalent

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

13

position illustrated by Robert G. Burgess (1984: 16‫ޤ‬29). On the one hand, sharing the language and a certain cultural background with my informants has allowed me—in most occurrences—to obtain more detailed and direct information. Moreover, the familiarity with social, cultural and ethical circumstances has helped me to recognise and understand specific behaviours and situations. On the other hand, the lack of a detached, neutral approach makes it problematic, at times, to judge which aspects need to be given priority, and which issues require full coverage. This is why in the process of analysing the information collected, particular attention has been paid to check the validity and reliability of my material by linking the results of observation and interviews and to look at the records critically by comparing from different perspectives the data derived from my case studies.

Structure of the book The main principle that I follow in the structure of this book is to present and analyse, in as exhaustive a way as possible, the various types of materialisation of ideas of China observed during my fieldwork in Italian museums and exhibition halls. By identifying certain patterns in this process, I have grouped together representations derived from and obtained through materials of the same nature. Before treating directly the data collected in the field, in the first chapter I will deal with the pivotal theories that constitute the leading threads running through and supporting the whole book. While I illustrate the scholarly works I have referred to while conducting my investigation, I will also spell out my own theoretical position, which I have developed in the course of this research and which I propose to the attention of the academic and museum communities and especially of experts in studies of material culture and intercultural communication. In particular, I will emphasise how the different modes of Italian representations of ideas of China considered in this book are manifestations of processes of cultural flows, perceptions, and interactions. I will also explain that these materialised views of the Other come into being thanks to a mimetic practice. In this regard, while delineating how I define the concept of mimesis, I will carefully clarify that this is not intended as passive imitation but, rather, as a creative operation that results from the active involvement in the acquisition and transmission of knowledge of the Other. In connection with this argumentation, I aim at redefining the concept of material and cultural appropriations integrating their function in the recognition of the Other and expression of the Self through the

14

Introduction

construction of difference. In a similar way, I will suggest to treat Orientalism as a phenomenon that leads to the questioning of the Self in relation to different cultures in the process of observing and representing the Other. Chapters two and three are constructed not only with the aim of describing all my case studies, but also with the intention to present the displays of artefacts per se as materialised representations of cultural identities. Linked to the specific history and features of Italian museums, the distinctions and peculiarities in the treatment and display of cineserie will be made evident. Large quantities of these objects were moved from the private space of rich residences to the public space of newly re‫ޤ‬organised museums as a consequence of Italy’s political unification in the second half of the nineteenth century. These two chapters will highlight how the bond of the museums themselves with the immediate geographical and socio‫ޤ‬political surroundings as well as with local cultural traditions exercises a strong influence on the way the Chinese and chinoiserie artefacts are perceived and displayed both in the context of permanent installations and in that of temporary exhibitions. Not only will I argue that a museum view of China has in time emerged in Italy, but I intend to stress also that different ideas of China are on show nowadays in specific museum settings. I will keep permanent and temporary displays separate because, as it will be possible to notice, they are each characterised by a different approach in terms of curatorial attitudes and expectations of the public. Permanent displays of cineserie tend to be arranged in relation to the territory and environment of which the museum is part. For this reason, their techniques and criteria remain more conservative. Differently, temporary displays appear more flexible and susceptible to socio‫ޤ‬cultural changes, intellectual trends and aesthetic fashions, thus providing more up‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬date pictures of the evolving connection between materiality and cultural attitudes. However, it will eventually emerge that in all cases the engagement of the exhibits with the surrounding elements determines the construction of representations of China embodying the sense of history, memory and identity that each venue aims at conveying. As I proceed to analyse more closely the various types of cineserie in the displays selected, in chapter four I will look at the wide range of objects presented, with particular attention to porcelain artefacts and lacquerware. More precisely, particular attention will be devoted to the ways in which Italian consumers—both in the public space of museums nowadays and in the private space of the houses of the artefacts’ owners in the past—interact and interacted with these objects. It will be, thus,

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

15

possible to observe that the sensorial perception of a material reality not only opens up numerous opportunities of representation of the Other, but allows also familiarising, engaging with and ultimately appropriating cultural traits of the Other. This explains why—as we shall see—the material and cultural exchange with China triggers two co‫ޤ‬existing and mutually‫ޤ‬affecting phenomena that are not in general unique to Italy, but, nevertheless, present peculiar features conditioned by specific Italian cultural circumstances. Therefore, I will point out that Chinese artefacts arrived in Italy at different times across the centuries appear in today’s displays, on the one hand, as means of approaching, experiencing and relating to China and, on the other hand, as stimulating factors for the production of original manifestations of Italian local cultural identities. In order to illustrate this aspect I am going to refer to some particularly representative instances. Among these there is the case of sixteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese porcelain in Renaissance Florence. Also significant in this respect will be chinoiserie pieces of furniture and decorative articles inspired by and used in combination with eighteenth‫ ޤ‬and nineteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese artefacts. Overall, how all these objects come to represent or suggest ideas of China and how they are arranged in a specific space reveal peculiar attitudes and modalities of integrating or alienating Chinese and Chinese‫ޤ‬like elements, depending on local cultural features. Chapter five will deal with another category of exhibits, two‫ޤ‬dimensional images, which even if through different mechanisms, fulfil the same functions of representation as those observed for three‫ޤ‬dimensional objects. It will emerge from my examples that images are not the protagonists of displays as often as objects. More precisely, I will propose that the relevance of images and objects has been shifting from one to the other over time, according to the various stages in the process of getting closer to and more aware of Chinese reality. In this regard, I will draw attention on the fact that the early knowledge of China and the Chinese as mysterious entities, far away from the Italian territory was characterised by the scarcity of tangible cultural manifestations and the difficulty of direct experience of this remote geographical and cultural reality. Thus, Italians of the Middle Ages, who were in the forefront of the exploration of Asia for missionary and trading purposes, could only elaborate approximate maps to physically define Chinese territories. Vague Chinese elements—such as Far‫ޤ‬Eastern‫ޤ‬type figures and early Chinese porcelain—in paintings of the time were just hints at an obscure Chinese Other. However, it will be shown that while ancient cartography is still taken into account in some temporary exhibitions specifically referring to the Italian history of travels to China and contacts with the

16

Introduction

Chinese, early pictorial appearances of Chinese elements are completely dismissed in this sense. Such details have been absorbed as mere ornaments in the wider context and purpose of the painting itself. My case studies, hence, will illustrate that the great quantity and variety of Chinese artefacts that later poured onto European markets quickly took over the descriptive role of representations of China, a role that they firmly retain in today’s museum displays. I will, in fact, point out that in the cases analysed, Chinese scenes and motifs decorating Chinese artefacts and freely re‫ޤ‬elaborated on chinoiserie artefacts are usually ignored as independent features, since the formal, stylistic, technical and material qualities of the objects attract most of the consideration. Yet, I will also highlight an exhibitive trend emerging in the last few years, according to which evocative images of China have been increasingly gaining relevance. Works by contemporary Italian artists, but most of all by contemporary Chinese artists, are being looked at with great interest both by experts and general public and have already been dedicated a number of temporary exhibitions. It will emerge that as accurate facts and information about China can these days be acquired through other more direct channels, what raises attention is the creation and reception of impressions of China that reflect contemporary social moods and conditions of the Chinese themselves and of the Italians in their current cultural dialogue with China. In chapter six, I will focus on more unusual and rare types of exhibits, as I turn to discuss literary representations of China. For this purpose, I will first concentrate on the only specific example of this kind encountered during my fieldwork. I will therefore present the case of an exhibition in Venice in which China was represented through a display dedicated to Marco Polo’s account of his travels and experiences in Asia. This emblematic starting point will allow me to illustrate how a literary narrative can exercise, like objects and images, a function in the representation of the Other and how a museum display can highlight this function. At the same time, it will also give me the opportunity to open the discussion to other literary texts of different times and genres that, even if not directly presented in museum displays, constitute an implicit background of knowledge and assumptions influencing and informing perceptions of China as exhibited in Italy today. While I pinpoint complementarity and correspondences between literary representations and the other means of representation examined in my research, it will finally emerge that the development of the former follows the same trend as the one noticed for the latter. As a matter of fact, I will show how in their own way, literary texts gradually replace the didactic intention of

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums

17

representing a Chinese entity with the realisation of impressions suggested by ideas of China. After presenting in detail all the data collected and examined, I will finally conclude with some remarks on the main issues of the variability and specificity of Italian cultural representations of China through materiality. Besides comparing the cases illustrated in the previous chapters, I will still introduce some fresh materials—from both a permanent display and a temporary exhibition—that exemplify recent developments with regards to the matters treated in this book. I will do so in order to show how, with such a dynamic situation and topical subject, there are the opportunity and the need to continue and expand the debate opened by my research.

CHAPTER ONE THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

Introduction Before illustrating and examining in detail my case studies, it is necessary to spell out the theoretical models that guide my analysis and that the reader should bear in mind while considering the specific observations and findings of this research. The whole book unravels around the principle that the materialisation of ideas of the Other involves at the same time the materialisation of cultural self‫ޤ‬expressions. In other words, the dialectic tension and dynamic system characteristic of material production, circulation and presentation allow cultures to perceive and represent each other’s identity as well as their own identity in relation to the construction of difference. Such an argument recalls the point made by Marcel Mauss in a 1920 manuscript published posthumously in 1953 in the journal Année Sociologique. In the extract selected by Nathan Schlanger (Mauss 2006: 44‫ޤ‬48), Mauss poignantly links the notion of civilisation to the circulation among societies of their goods, techniques, knowledge and customs. In this respect, Mauss states that: “Societies live by borrowing from each other, but they define themselves rather by the refusal of borrowing than by its acceptance” (Schlanger 2006: 44). In other words, he stresses that while civilisational elements are constantly exchanged, societies tend to define their identity highlighting the cultural differences—and not the similarities—between one another. Such a process does not take place in an accidental, spontaneous way, nor happens in a dimension void of time and space. It is rather regulated by and dependent on socio‫ޤ‬cultural conditions, historical situations and geographical circumstances. It follows cross‫ޤ‬cultural trends and triggers phenomena and manifestations already potentially existing in a certain cultural context. We are, hence, faced with a situation in which the multifacetedness of cultural relations mirrors the complexity of culture itself, or, as Ulf Hannerz (1992: 7 and passim) defines it, the complexity of the “externalisation” and “distribution” of cultural meanings.

Theoretical Framework

19

In order to shed light on the ways in which cultures relate to each other through exchange of materials and knowledge, in the following sections, I will focus on certain pivotal aspects of the constructive discourses of cultural flows and interactions as they emerge from some interlinked theoretical assumptions.

Mimesis: dialectics of identities All the mutual mechanisms related to the perception and representation of the Other and the Self, briefly mentioned in the introduction above are intrinsic to people’s nature and essential for the occurrence of interpersonal and intercultural communication. Thinkers of all times have been trying to explain them through the concept of mimesis, usually translated from the Greek as “imitation” or “representation by means of art”.1 A vast philosophical, anthropological, and sociological literature is nowadays available on this topic.2 Yet, this abundance of materials often tends to exasperate and confuse rather than contribute to the clarification of the issues at stake. What emerges from the comparison of the numerous, often ambiguous definitions and contrasting discussions about mimesis is the fact that they share the same roots: they all draw on a discourse originated in ancient Greek thought, more specifically in some of the writings by Plato (427‫ޤ‬327 BC) and Aristotle (384‫ޤ‬322 BC). In particular, for both philosophers mimesis is a form of representation. While Plato in the Republic3 looks at it in its ethical implications as merely appearance detached from what is represented, Aristotle in the Poetics4 considers it in aesthetic terms, as re‫ޤ‬creation of what is represented. These original sources are—in a more or less explicit way—constantly used as references, reinterpreted and re‫ޤ‬elaborated in the overwhelming majority of subsequent studies up to date. For this reason, while considering various definitions and approaches, they still constitute indispensable documents, essential in order to cast light on the notion of mimesis that will gradually come into view in this book. Drawing on the original broad notion of mimesis as re‫ޤ‬presentation of something as something else that leads to some form of knowledge— deceptive for Plato, edifying for Aristotle—the definition of mimesis that I elaborate here is in large part based on the evidence collected from my case studies: acquisition of knowledge and construction of difference through imitative practices. That mimesis is part of the natural behaviour and formative needs of human beings, as already stated by Aristotle in his Poetics (IV. 2) 5 , has been epitomised in more recent times by Walter Benjamin (1986: 333‫ޤ‬336) in his short essay “On the Mimetic Faculty”.

20

Chapter One

Starting from this assumption, scholars usually aim at describing how mimesis functions, what its uses are, and what effects it produces. For this purpose, a specific vocabulary in relation to the mimetic faculty has been developed, even though some terms are at times still employed arbitrarily, acquiring variable meanings and nuances. According to the definition of mimesis suggested above, which links imitation to the processes of knowing and differentiating, I thus investigate the mimetic process and analyse its components. It is, first of all, important to point out that in the present study mimesis is connected to different types of materialisation and denotes situations of coming‫ޤ‬into‫ޤ‬being, becoming, in fieri. As a matter of fact, it implies the agency of someone who, having received and perceived something, intentionally engages in a creative operation in order to transmit or reproduce the given thing. The productive element is underlined by Gunter Gebauer and Christoph Wulf (1995: 9) when, recalling Plato’s and Aristotle’s use of the words poiesis and mimesis, they stress their meanings of “making” and “once‫ޤ‬again making”, respectively. The most immediate product of the mimetic exercise is something else in the sense of image, if by image it is meant—recovering Plato’s definition—the produced appearance of something’s form or idea.6 This product of mimesis has to be intended not only as a tangible, visible, three‫ޤ‬dimensional thing, but also as any other form of manifestations, such as the ones I deal with in my research, namely museum displays, interior designs, pictorial depictions, literary descriptions and so on. If we take into account this meaning of image, it is then understandable why the use of this word and of “representation” in the discussion of mimesis can be ambiguous and interchangeable at times. This is what is suggested by statements like that by Thomas Docherty: “An ‘idea’, however, is already a representation: eidos, eidolon, an image” (1996: 23). On these grounds, it cannot be denied that the concepts of image and representation are very closely related and interdependent. This correlation also emerges in this book as I follow the definitions that W. J. Thomas Mitchell elaborates in Iconology (1986) first and then reiterates in Picture Theory (1994). Thus, without forgetting that image is primarily the result of an “act of representation” and that it includes “the whole realm of iconicity” (Mitchell 1994: 4n), I use the term “image” mainly in the sense of two‫ޤ‬dimensional visual representation. As Kendall L. Walton (1990: 112) has scrupulously attempted to describe, “representing is a kind of referring”: a representation provides elements and prescribes characteristics that typify certain aspects of a thing. Bearing in mind this function of representation, it becomes evident

Theoretical Framework

21

that by “producing objects”, as described above, mimesis also substantially contributes to the construction and consciousness of identities, and to the grasping, apprehension and comprehension of Otherness and Self. Cognition, in these terms, is seen by Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1955: 791, 793) as an escalating process which can only take place through the awareness of the relatedness of the thing and the Self and culminates in the “reconciliation of consciousness with self‫ޤ‬consciousness”. The enlightening connection between being‫ޤ‬perceived and perceiver, not‫ޤ‬yet‫ޤ‬known, or being‫ޤ‬known, and knower is of a sensible nature. Sensorial dialectic and synaesthetic experience allow recognising the relations of the identity of everything with those of everything else in a cosmos where a unifying system gradually leads to abstraction, namely— according to Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno (2002: 6, 8‫ޤ‬9)— the cognitive instrument of enlightenment. It is, in fact, in the causal process of making something physical intelligible to the perceiver’s mind, by translating it into an immaterial form, that cognition actively takes place. Although this operation can be carried out more or less consciously and with different degrees of spontaneity, it is never unconditioned and is performed by means of a complex sensorial and mental exercise. The perceiver’s interaction with the perceived and her/his consequent elaboration depend greatly on her/his cultural background and individual sensibility. In this regard, David Howes (1991: 188, 186) describes perception itself as a “cultural and moral act” and points out that “how people think they perceive can influence what they perceive”. Furthermore, while it must be recognised that all senses jointly contribute to the phenomenological and epistemological experience, different cultures tend to give more weight to the significance and role of certain senses rather than others. In particular, when examining the perceptive and cognitive mechanisms in western contexts, it is essential to bear in mind that—as I will try to explain—in these cases the privileged, most influent sense is the visual one. The origins of this specific phenomenological scheme can be traced back to the tradition of ancient Greek thought. Once again, Plato’s legacy is recognisable. In the simile of the cave, in book VII of The Republic (VII. 514‫ޤ‬517), he explains the ascending process that leads man from the perception of the visible world to the knowledge of the intelligible world. On the one hand, he associates the visible world with the prisoners in the cave who see the shadows of puppets projected on the wall by the fire; on the other hand, he compares the intelligible world to the man who escapes from the cave and sees real things outside.7 Plato’s explanation not only

22

Chapter One

clarifies the distinctions among the various level of sensible experience, but also shows that all these different levels are somehow connected to each other. In my study, for example, the analysis of displays of objects from China cannot be separated from the examination of displays of objects produced in Italy following a Chinese model; furthermore, the process leading from the Chinese objects to the production of what we might call Chinese‫ޤ‬like objects needs to be addressed as well. Besides illustrating the aim of a true philosopher’s education—to which commentators such as Desmond Lee (Plato 1979: 40, 265) refer—it is not always clearly highlighted that with the allegory of the cave Plato is also making another crucial statement by stressing the essentially visual aspect of the cognitive exercise.8 On such grounds, it becomes then appropriate to speak of “visual cognition”. The latter is the underlying theme of numerous studies that investigate from different perspectives the relationship between visuality and knowledge. Robert L. Solso (1994: 73‫ޤ‬99), for instance, meticulously describes all the phases and mechanisms of “seeing and understanding”– the expression he uses to explain the meaning of “visual cognition”—from a basic sensorial perception to the mental processing and interpreting of the sensible data. While Solso adopts a neuro‫ޤ‬psychological approach to the matter, Roland Barthes deals with a substantially similar issue drawing analytical keys from the disciplines of semiotics and linguistics. Following this attitude of mind, he thus stresses the connection between visual images and the “ontology of the process of signification” (Barthes 1977: 32). Having analysed the links between visual perception and cognitive practices the jump to the examination of the associations between visual arts and mind is short indeed. Many scholars have been tempted along this path, considering the interconnectedness of aesthetic fruition and acquisition/construction of knowledge. On this point there is widespread agreement across disciplines, no matter whether visual images are treated as “visual documents” in an art‫ޤ‬historical sense (Gombrich 1988: 62), or they are anthropologically presented as agents interacting with other objects and people, and actively contributing in the dynamics of intercultural exchange and cross‫ޤ‬cultural identifications (Mason 2001). While perception is undoubtedly fundamental for the purpose of acquiring knowledge, it is not enough in itself. As already stated above, the efficacy of a mimetic process depends on the active role of the perceiver, who is engaged in a productive, creative effort. For instance, Erich Auerbach (1953) would argue that something could be grasped and known only through the imitation of it, or rather through the imitation of

Theoretical Framework

23

the sensory experience of it.9 Despite the common, generic association of imitation with some kind of pedantic copying and subservient reproduction of a model, when talking about imitative practice, the accent has to go on its characteristics as creative impulse and production of something new. Looking at the issue in this fashion, it becomes more easily understandable why people find imitation and the activity that it involves so necessary and satisfying. Aristotle makes this point particularly clear: “For if you happen not to have seen the original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause” (IV. 4).10 As I follow such a line of thinking in the analysis of my case study, it will be possible to notice that this applies not only to the situation of Italian artisans imitating Chinese forms and materials, but also to the visitors’ perception of the museums when looking at Italian chinoiserie. The exercise of imitating, thus, acquires an almost supernatural and mystic dimension. The imitator is able to capture the previously mysterious power imbedded in the model and to transfer it into the product of her/his imitation. At the same time, by transforming the model while imitating it, the imitator expresses her/his own power and the product of her/his imitation will be, in its turn, a reflection. It is from this point of view that the magic aspect of imitation can be unequivocally recognised. Drawing on the detailed characterisation of magic provided by Mauss (1972), the imitator appears as performing the magical rituals of both a shaman and an alchemist. In fact, as it is particularly evident in any manifestation of artistic work, the artist/imitator establishes a sort of spiritual contact with whatever she/he intends to imitate and transmits the essence of this thing to the audience through the work of art she/he produces. All this is achieved while mixing, preparing, shaping, re‫ޤ‬elaborating, and reconstituting different elements in a somehow mysterious, ritualistic manner, contributing to enhance the efficacy of the final artistic product. When attributing magical properties to imitative practices, it is important to highlight—as Michael Taussig (1993: 21, 47) insists—that the magic in question is of a sympathetic nature. By this it is meant that imitation sanctions a connection—no matter whether through similarity, contiguity, separation or opposition—that includes not only the perceived model and the perceiver/imitator, but also—I would add—the product of imitation and the audience. As a consequence, in virtue of its reliance on imitative exercise and of the features it shares with magic, the artistic experience in general emerges as a powerful totalising phenomenon embracing both corporal and conceptual spheres, rather than, as supported by Horkheimer and Adorno (2002: 13‫ޤ‬14), detaching itself

24

Chapter One

“from the context of profane existence” and closing itself off from the surrounding reality. This perspective, together with the shamanic association, cannot but strongly recall the idea of “intoxication” as contemplated both by Friedrich Nietzsche in his Twilight of the Idols 11 and later by Benjamin in “Surrealism”. The former describes it as a compelling feeling of power and fulfilment indispensable “for art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist” (Nietzsche 1990: 82‫ޤ‬83); the latter intends it as a loosened mental state that allows us to perceive things beyond the constraints of the Self and to reach what he calls “profane illumination” (Benjamin 1986: 179). In particular, Benjamin’s assumption lets us come full circle: it leads back to my previous statement about the enlightening function of mimesis, which has now been clarified and it introduces the discussion of the role of mimesis in the construction of difference. In the imitation process the imitator not only perceives and knows the distinction between the identity of the model, as the Other, and that of the Self, but also expresses the Self through the representation of the Other. To say this with Gebauer and Wulf’s terminology, the mimetic operation as a whole is related to a poietic activity as well as to an autopoietic activity (Gebauer and Wulf 1995: 9, 24). In other words, while “making” something with reference to something else, a certain degree of self‫ޤ‬referentiality cannot be avoided. Bearing this observation in mind, what is essential to stress about mimesis is the fact that it “is not simply a matter of imitation, but rather of possibilities for the individual to shape the outcomes” (Gebauer and Wulf 1995: 14).12 For this phenomenon of self‫ޤ‬manifestation through imitation to happen, the model/perceived has to be appropriated by the individual/perceiver according to the individual’s own habitus, intended in Pierre Bourdieu’s terms as an ordered set of structuring predispositions gradually built up and environmentally—socially and culturally— determined (Bourdieu 1977: 72). Such a concept seems to have been anticipated by Benjamin when he establishes interrelatedness of appropriation—as a mode of sensible knowing—and a system of constructed and constructing habits.13 Analysing the continuous interplay among all the elements participating in mimesis, a constant tension between likeness and difference can be detected. In fact, on the basis of what discussed so far, it emerges that mimesis itself contains at the same time similarity and alterity. These only apparently opposing poles in reality do not exclude each other at all. Instead, they are in a dialectical relationship that makes the balance among the various components ever‫ޤ‬shifting. The role of bridging similarity and

Theoretical Framework

25

difference is performed by analogy. By ordering seemingly discordant elements and rationalising the distance between them, analogy seeks for correspondences and equivalences with the goal to reach at least a partial harmony of the parts (Stafford 2001). For this purpose, the analogical connection can be applied according to two modalities of proportional likeness. One—corresponding to the cosmological analogy used by Plato—establishes the degree of participation of two ontologically different terms in a third one14. The other one—identifiable in the logical analogy described by Aristotle—recognises the degree of likeness of two terms sharing a certain feature but not participating in a common third element.15 Taking into account the function of analogy in imitative exercises within the context of mimesis, it becomes redundant, if not inadequate, to discriminate between authentic and inauthentic, true and false, original and copy, purity and hybridity. It is undeniable that these categories are culturally constructed according to aesthetic judgement, appreciation of systems of values, and expectation about sets of qualities. The underlying criteria are not fixed and the boundaries are modified as objects of any nature defined in these categories move in space and time, come into contact with different cultural identities, and witness different cultural encounters. Notions of authenticity, originality, hybridity and the like must always be considered in relative terms, since their definition is arbitrary or even illusory (Phillips and Steiner 1999: 19; Sylvanus 2007: 212). What should be kept as a rather firm point is the fact that any product of imitation still retains a character of uniqueness linked to the specific circumstances and history of each object.16 This assumption becomes more evident if it is made clear—as it has emerged from this discussion—that by imitation it is not intended a kind of anonymous, neutral replication detached from spatial, temporal, social and cultural dimensions—if this were at all possible—but rather a flexible and contingent adaptation and re‫ޤ‬contextualisation. As a matter of fact, the imitative practice of mimesis does not entail a static, permanent, immutable situation. On the contrary, it implies constant variability, transformation and motion. These phenomena could not happen outside time and space. The necessity of these two dimensions is usually emphasised by scholars with the use of the concept of repetition (Melberg 1995; Steiner 1999) and through the description of the physical circulation of objects and ideas (Taussig 1993; Phillips and Steiner 1999). Such observations are indeed reminiscent of Plato’s discussion of the same issues in his dialogue Timaeus.17 Whether in reference to time or to space, mimesis deals with a distance between something perceived and its representation. Thus, the

26

Chapter One

instruments used to fill this gap are imagination and memory, the functions of which are not univocal, as commonly thought, but ambivalent and reciprocal. Imagination, in fact, is not considered here as a creative faculty solely conditioned by individual perception and ideation, as it appears from a modernist view shared by some scholars associating creativity to innovation (Liep 2001). Drawing on Elizabeth Hallam and Tim Ingold’s conception of creativity as “intrinsic to the very processes of social and cultural life” (Hallam and Ingold 2007: 19), I propose that when people engage with materials around them—making things or, for instance, seeing things in an exhibition—the creative aspect of imagination is inextricable from socio‫ޤ‬cultural relations. Imagination can be intended, in this sense, as imaginary—Wolfgang Iser (1990) suggests—and can be defined as Urfantasie or materia prima. From this point of view, it is recognisable that the Self, left in a form of semi‫ޤ‬alienation, needs to shift in and out of itself and interact with its surroundings in order to grasp a total picture. Under such circumstances, the imaginary is hence subject to external conditioning. In addition, talking of Urfantasie in the sense of originary imaginary implies that a history or evolution of imaginary can be traced on the basis of a set of shared collective features and reactions. When it comes to experience, imagination contributes to mimesis not only with individual distinction, but also with collective homogeneity. A similar reasoning can be applied to memory. The important role of the latter in the processes of cultural transmission is nowadays fully acknowledged (Rowlands 1993; Forty and Küchler 1999; Parkin 1999).18 In this regard, memory is primarily associated with the recalling of past experiences from a collective cultural legacy. However, it is worth noticing that even collective memories are stored, re‫ޤ‬organised and re‫ޤ‬elaborated by the individual as traces in her/his mind. Taking this into consideration, it can therefore be sustained that the use of memory itself involves a certain imaginary practice. The complex workings of memory as well as imagination construct the network along which imitation takes place, so that the mimetic operation is accomplished in the contemporaneous and complementary representation of the Other and expression of the Self. As my focus on mimesis underlines, the role of collective representations and their cultural transmission is a key issue for this research. In this sense, cineserie and their displays in Italy are primarily considered in their connotative aspect, this is as defined by Roland Barthes (1977: 37, 46‫ޤ‬51) when describing the types of messages in an image. In other words, for the purposes of my analysis it is essential to realise that the cineserie and displays that I consider do not have a direct correspondence with what they represent. The meanings, values, references and ideas that accompany

Theoretical Framework

27

them are collectively generated within particular historical and cultural contexts in Italy, thus varying from place to place and at different times.

Material appropriation and mechanisms of cultural appropriation While in the previous section I have clarified the mimetic connotations and implications of “cultural representation” in my research, I now turn to define more thoroughly my outlook on the broad concepts of cultural transmission, construction and identification, from which my project originated. In order to do so, I bring into play the theories elaborated by Hannerz (1992; 2000) as a helpful starting point, since he identifies as cultural flow the shift of ideas, of modes of thought and of their materialised overt forms in a temporal and spatial dimension. In this respect, I agree with Hannerz when he points out that words like “flow”, “boundaries” and “hybrids”—become very popular in the vocabulary of the so‫ޤ‬called “transnational anthropology”—though technically correct, still remain vague. Hannerz (2000: 3) himself comments that “such words may appeal to us as we try to take a fresh look at the world around us, because they seem to offer an immediate grasp of some central quality of whatever we are referring to”. However, this impression reveals itself to be mainly an illusion as we confront ourselves with the complexity of cultural processes. Following Hannerz’s argument, it has to be recognised that different cultural flows continuously intersect each other, interact with each other, and oppose each other according to asymmetrical directions and patterns. From these interconnected transcultural movements, cultural hybrids develop within local frameworks in the form of new realities and original, independent phenomena. Yet, flows and hybridisation do not occur accidentally—as already mentioned at the beginning of this chapter—and, considered in general terms, they remain shallow notions. What really matters is to explain the underlying dynamics: causes, intentions, routes, circumstances and effects, all need to be taken into account. As I outline the interrelation between material circulation and cultural shifts, between sensorial experience and cognition, in my investigation of ideas of China in various Italian display contexts, I am led to acknowledge the role of appropriation in these connected processes. Emerged into the spotlight in recent years, the term “appropriation” is mostly associated with sensitive issues of cultural and intellectual property, such as demands of graves protection and repatriation by Native Americans, claims of authority over the traditional use of acrylic painting by Australian

28

Chapter One

Aborigines, and Greek attempts to obtain the release of the Parthenon Marbles from the British Museum. Thus, “appropriation”, has acquired a predominantly negative connotation, which is clearly exposed—as Bruce Ziff and Pratima V. Rao (1997: 24‫ޤ‬25) point out—in the definition of “cultural appropriation” provided in the 1992 Resolution of the Writers’ Union of Canada: “the taking—from a culture that is not one’s own—of intellectual property, cultural expressions or artefacts, history and ways of knowledge, and profiting at the expense of the people of that culture”. The various scholarly comments on this subject reflect the controversial use and partial understanding of the notion of appropriation. Hence, I intend to illustrate the comprehensiveness and depth of the term itself, making of material and cultural appropriations an underlying motif throughout this book. In order to build a more accurate and complete reading of “appropriation”, it is necessary, first of all, to strip this word of all circumstantial attributes, and to start from a pure etymological analysis. The two meanings of the Latin proprius, from which the English “appropriate” derives, equally apply—being in fact complementary—to “appropriation” in its anthropological sense. Commentators, such as James Clifford (1988: 221), usually just refer to the meaning “one’s own”, 19 stressing the intention or act of taking possession of something originally belonging to someone else. However, an exhaustive, more precise definition must also include the meaning “adequate, suitable”, highlighting the more or less conscious intervention by the appropriating agents to alter or adjust the new alien acquisition for its integration in the host environment. In this regard, it is necessary to bear in mind that the changes to the appropriated objects can be not only formal and structural, but also functional and interpretative. Likewise, the accommodating process can happen on a physical, aesthetic level as well as on a socio‫ޤ‬cultural level. The combination of the two meanings “to make a foreign something one’s own and to adapt it” is the key that allows using the idea of material and cultural appropriation in contexts different from the ones mentioned above, in which it acquires a more positive, constructive and defining phenomenon, as opposed to a negative, destructive and alienating one. The case study of the presentation of Chinese artefacts in Italian exhibitions, with the ideas and knowledge embedded in the objects, as they were transmitted through different times and routes, assimilated, adapted and transformed into chinoiserie by the Italian recipients, offers the opportunity to expose the various aspects of this issue, over which scholars animatedly debate. In this regard, Ziff and Rao (1997: 1‫ޤ‬5) acknowledge the open‫ޤ‬ended meaning of appropriation as, they explain, the latter entails

Theoretical Framework

29

interpersonal and social relations, it manifests itself in various modes, and it is practised more extensively than commonly thought. Yet, even if they recognise that the borders of cultural appropriation are rather thin and blurred, admitting the multidirectional, multidimensional and pervasive nature of the phenomenon, they still retain the conviction that, together with cultural assimilation, it is ultimately a form of cultural transmission politically determined and dependent on power relationships (Ziff and Rao 1997: 6). Taken in its extreme connotation, this theoretical model can, in its turn, be traced back to the stance taken by Edward Said (1995 [1978])—to which I will return in more detail in the next section—that considers cultural appropriation as a way of constructing demeaning, artificial and stereotyped cultural representations of the Other, the latter being in a subordinate position and subject to colonial control. Among those who object to this interpretation, Jonathan Hart (1997: 137‫ޤ‬168) questions whether the term appropriation necessarily describes a harmful process, and whether there are absolute epistemological and ontological criteria of judgement over matters of objects, techniques and ideas flowing across borders and along trade routes. He also remarks upon the fact that the postcolonial “metaphor or political argument of cultural appropriation” uses, in fact, colonial concepts of culture to criticise appropriation itself as a colonial practice. Hart goes on stressing the need to give more space to the ideas of cultural hybridity and mediation, taking into account location and context. By doing so—he suggests—the interrelation between local and global emerges, whereas the centre‫ޤ‬margin opposition disappears. As a consequence, “the best way to look at cultural appropriation is an interaction between changing cultures over time and not simply as a static transaction between two sides” (Hart 1997: 157). In this respect, the Italian example of material and cultural appropriation through the circulation, re‫ޤ‬contextualisation and display of Chinese works of art is suitable inasmuch, for the socio‫ޤ‬historical reasons mentioned in the introduction, it does not lend itself to an analysis from a strictly speaking colonial and dominant‫ޤ‬subordinate perspective. As the relationships between different forms of material appropriation and cultural appropriation are examined with an emphasis on the phenomenological implications, reception and perception are identified as the technical means by which the appropriating process takes place. At the same time, causes, modalities, and effects are also investigated as interconnected parts of the process. For this purpose, the issue of cultural identity deserves a central role. As a matter of fact, A. David Napier (1992 [1986]: 108) regards the “appropriation of exotic cultural property” as a phenomenon of codification of cultural identity “not through the supposed

30

Chapter One

radical opposition of self and other…but through the assimilation of what one takes to be foreign into one’s cultural sphere”. As he discusses the probable origin of the myth of the Gorgon in classical Greece from Indian iconography, he observes that looking into the “magical land of the foreign” and by tactically deploying and manipulating the foreign, one reaches out to define one’s own culture. Thus, this research aims at establishing to what extent and in what context and circumstances this principle is applicable and determinant. The assessment is carried out by considering different aspects, which are all treated in depth and consistently interlinked in this book: the circulation in Italy of ideas of China through different materials; the acquisition, use and transformation of technologies and artistic typologies introduced from China; the integration of these “exotic” objects, materials and images into the “local” domestic and public interiors; the techniques of display and spatial arrangements of this material and cultural legacy in Italian museums nowadays. In particular, this last issue participates in an ongoing debate, as some scholars point out the “inescapability of the mechanisms and discourse of appropriation in the museum” (Beard and Henderson 1994: 6) and stress the agency of museum display, which takes into account the location of objects—with the cultural baggage that they carry—in contexts often foreign to the objects themselves (Kirshenblatt‫ޤ‬Gimblett 1998: 1). Aiming at elaborating valid counter‫ޤ‬arguments to stances of extra‫ޤ‬historicity or a‫ޤ‬historicity, de‫ޤ‬contextualisation, and universal significance as far as matters of art, culture and their appropriations are concerned, my research brings a contribution to the subject, connecting in an anthropological dimension past legacies and present situations in contemporary exhibitive arrangements.

Cultural cross‫ޤ‬reference in Italian Orientalist discourse So far, I have identified how the processes of mimesis and appropriation taking place in the Italians’ engagement with “things Chinese” affect the dynamics of recognition and cognition in the discourse between the Italian Self and the Chinese Other. As a consequence of these deductions, I cannot but acknowledge that this phenomenon is part of a much wider and extended one that goes under the definition of “Orientalism”. Although this word is now more typically associated with Western attitudes towards the cultures of the Middle East, it was originally referred to the Westerners’ outlooks on South and East Asia. According to the explanation provided by J. J. Clarke (1997: 7), since its first appearance in

Theoretical Framework

31

France in the 1830s,20 this term has been employed “to refer to Oriental scholarship, to characterise a certain genre of romantic‫ޤ‬fantasy literature, to describe a genre of painting, and—most significantly in recent times— to mark out a certain kind of ideological purview of the East which was a product of Western imperialism”. However, as this scholar also warns, Orientalism should not be contemplated only within the narrow framework of Western expansionism and hegemonic approach to the East, and as a fixed, simple, unified subject. On the contrary, historical discontinuities and changes in the focus, together with the diversity of ends and purposes need to be underlined. It is also important to remember that words like “West”, “East” and “Orient” are often used as semantic artifices in order to reduce “endless complexities and diversities into manageable and falsifying unities” (Clarke 1997: 10). From its inception in the period of decolonisation in Asia in the 1960s21 and its consolidation with the seminal work Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient written by Edward W. Said in 1978, the post‫ޤ‬colonialist critique of Orientalism generally pointed at a tendency to keep explicitly distanced and separated the “West” from “that part of the world” identified as “East”. Thus, following this line, scholars such as Lisa Lowe (1991) or Carol A. Breckenridge and Peter van der Veer (1993) emphasise the character of opposition and contrast that they detect in the supposed East‫ޤ‬West dichotomy. In this regard, it is worth noticing that those who share this position, like in the cases just mentioned, are often involved in the study of the history of colonialism and post‫ޤ‬colonial migration, especially as far as South Asian and Middle Eastern communities are concerned. In such circumstances, issues of political and economic power relations between dominant West and dominated East are particularly exasperated, so much so that experts in this area of research cannot but take them into account when discussing Orientalism. Yet, considered in a more comprehensive picture, the underlying theory of Orientalism can be rather regarded as one of cultural cross‫ޤ‬reference that continuously challenges conceptions of Other and of Self in relation to the Other. Already in the first pages of his book, Said (1995 [1978]: 2) makes his standpoint on Orientalism very clear by defining it—among its various connotations—as “a style of thought based upon an ontological and epistemological distinction made between ‘the Orient’ and (most of the time) ‘the Occident’”. Not all scholars have found themselves in agreement with this clear‫ޤ‬cut distinction between the Orient and the Occident. Clifford (1988: 255‫ޤ‬276) is, for instance, highly critical of this dichotomising view of Orientalism and suggests that we should instead

32

Chapter One

contemplate a “human continuum”. He also advances the hypothesis that in order to come to know other cultures it might be necessary indeed to recognise them as something different, nevertheless without inevitably entailing a process of alienation. An alternative approach in this sense is, for instance, proposed by Gupta and Ferguson (1992: 14). They “want to problematize the unity of the ‘us’ and the otherness of the ‘other’, and question the radical separation between the two that makes the opposition possible in the first place”. They, hence, deny the stark demarcation between Self and Other, since they concentrate on the exploration of “processes of production of difference in a world of culturally, socially, and economically interconnected and interdependent spaces”. If we look at the Orientalist discourse from this perspective, we then realise that Said’s argument for the general unevenness of the exchange between the West and the oriental Other, as the former intends to understand the latter so to gain control over it, is valid only partially and under specific circumstances (Said 1995 [1978]: 3). As a matter of fact, the model of unbalanced relations of powers—“power political”, “power intellectual”, “power cultural”, “power moral”, as Said (1995 [1978]: 12) calls them—based on the asymmetrical and non‫ޤ‬dialectical power/knowledge theorised by Michel Foucault22 does not explain how, especially in the field of artistic manifestations, the oriental Other can affect the discourse of the West about the Orient. In other words, as Andrew Gerstle and Anthony Milner (1994a; 1994b) point out in their collections of essays Europe & the Orient and Recovering the Orient. Artists, Scholars, Appropriations, Orientalist discourse should be judged beyond Said’s parameters of power relations, showing sensitivity to and not rejection of cultural differences. It cannot be denied that when dealing with the unfamiliar, the most immediate approach is that of applying to it, through comparison and contrast, traits that are already known, easily recognisable and acceptable within a certain culture. The result of this spontaneous process is the attribution of a series of homogenising features that, inaccurate as they may be, contribute making the Other more mentally graspable, as a distinctive entity, creating the illusion of precise and ordered definitions. This is the mechanism that goes under the name of stereotyping, as Michael Pickering (2001) extensively discusses in his analysis of the concept of the stereotype. It is also true that stereotyping practices are frequently adopted in the Orientalist discourse and that they can be conveniently used to grant “certainty, regularity and continuity” to “relations of power” (Pickering 2001: 4). However, it is too much of a generalisation to assert that the construction of stereotypical ideas of the

Theoretical Framework

33

Other, whether negative or positive, is always inevitably dictated by a deliberate design of domination (Said 1995 [1978]: 5‫ޤ‬6). Even Homi K. Bhabha (1994: 70), who by and large embraces Said’s theorisation on the colonial discourse, casts doubts on the absolute fixity of stereotypes and of their scopes and meanings, suggesting that “the stereotype is a complex, ambivalent, contradictory mode of representation”. I would argue it is, in fact, essential to bear in mind that stereotypes are not generated in a historical vacuum of unaffected circumstances, but are determined, developed, changed, substituted, accepted and discarded under the influence of numerous variables: political settings in domestic and foreign affairs, issues of national belonging, socio‫ޤ‬economic conditions, construction of cultural boundaries, intersection of cultural flows, circulation of preconceptions, myths and scientifically acquired knowledge and so on. Adopting a similar criterion to that followed to analyse stereotyping, it can be further clarified that Orientalism can be seen as an open and variable phenomenon, more than a fixed and unchangeable one, ideologically and politically dependent on a colonialist system (Said 1995 [1978]: 70). The rigidity of Said’s view is poignantly challenged by Clifford (1988: 266‫ޤ‬267), who objects to the fact that in his analysis, the literary theorist only presents cases that validate his assumptions: referring to the history of western visions of the Orient, he makes a selective use of past and present situations, therefore predominantly concentrating his attention on British and French statements about the Arab Middle East during their colonialist enterprises in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This means that Said omits “regretfully but firmly, the Far East, India, the Pacific, and North Africa”, avoiding the discussion about modern Orientalist currents and “is obliged to rule out Italian, Spanish, Russian, and especially German Orientalisms”, which would have shown a discourse not characterised by an essentially colonialist agenda (Clifford 1988: 267). These considerations lead me to highlight a crucial issue in this book, namely my argument that the various forms of materialisation of ideas of China in Italy that I take into account in my research—whether linked to the use and display of Chinese artefacts and Italian chinoiserie, or to the Italians’ acquisition, production and contemplation of images and literary texts referring to China—can all be explained as different kinds of Orientalist manifestations. To say it in more specific terms, my investigation aims at determining a direct connection between my case studies and an Italian strand of Orientalism that reflects intrinsic and socio‫ޤ‬cultural distinctive Italian traits and the particular Sino‫ޤ‬Italian

34

Chapter One

relations developed over the centuries and still in continuous evolution nowadays. If in my study “China” easily appears as a changing category of the Other, it is however necessary to better clarify the Italian part of the relationship. The Italian‫ޤ‬ness intended here is not an institutional phenomenon linked to nation or State formation. It is rather a “civilisational” identity that—as I have explained in the Introduction when presenting the issue of Italian Self‫ޤ‬perceptions and Self‫ޤ‬representations—is from far earlier and is of a much longer duration than that of the Italian nationalism emerging from the nineteenth‫ޤ‬century struggle for political unification. Its peculiarity of being characterised not by an all‫ޤ‬inclusive homogeneity but by an almost elitist affirmation of local differences is often reflected in the museum displays and exhibitions considered in my investigation. The Italian strand of Orientalism thus implies the involvement of this sense of Italian‫ޤ‬ness in the long‫ޤ‬standing openness to the perception of the “East” and incorporation into a Self‫ޤ‬Other relationship. The fundamental point that still needs to be made in this regard lies in my distancing from the conjecture that Western ideas and representations of the East imply the imposition of a Western identity and, consequently, the obliteration of an Oriental identity. This is what Said (1995 [1978]: 21‫ޤ‬23) seems to suggest and what is reiterated by other scholars in the field of cultural representations, such as Pickering (2001: 148), who writes: “Orientalism was constructed in the interests of a civilisational self‫ޤ‬image which was elevated to a position of superiority by its dichotomous contrast with the East”. Instead, I rather support a stance according to which the encounter with the unfamiliar Other and the attempts to make sense of different cultural realities and to attribute a determined physiognomy to a different cultural identity triggers a process of self‫ޤ‬questioning as well as the necessity of definition and affirmation of one’s own cultural identity. This principle is well expressed by Anthony Tatlow (1994: 83‫ޤ‬107) as he discusses the views of Bertolt Brecht (1898‫ޤ‬1956) on the aesthetics of Chinese painting and the effect of the latter on the German playwright’s work.23 As a matter of fact, the literary scholar states: “the passage through the foreign can sometimes be the only way of engaging with the repressed, of starting the process of cultural self‫ޤ‬examination” (Tatlow 1994: 85). Only a few lines later, he reiterates this concept even more explicitly: This encounter with the alienated self through the foreign also involves an encounter with cultural forms or ideas that originated or flourished in one’s own culture, were transmitted to and transformed by a foreign culture and then return as an alienating echo or transmutation of underdeveloped inherent possibilities.

Theoretical Framework

35

Such mechanisms in the context of Orientalism appear to be particularly fitting in the circumstances of Italian representations of China. The reasons for this can be summarised as follows, on the basis of what I have already anticipated in the Introduction of this book. It is worth reiterating, first of all, that the relationship between Italy and China cannot be described in the colonialist terms of a Western power exercising its hegemony on an Oriental subject. It also has to be noticed that in the context of Italian history, characterised by many centuries of political fragmentation, foreign domination and tensions—remaining partially unresolved nowadays—between unitary identity and regional identities, representations of China through operations of mimesis and appropriation have often proved and still prove very suitable mediators and means for the purpose of emphasising and reinforcing cultural peculiarities of the various Italian local realities. It is finally necessary to stress the particular tone that ideas of China and their materialisations in Italian Orientalism acquire if we consider that northern‫ޤ‬European people—especially British, Germans and Scandinavians—have for a long time perceived and represented the Italian Other itself in an Orientalist fashion. This phenomenon is well illustrated by the German expert in literary and cultural theory Manfred Pfister (1996: 1‫ޤ‬21) in the introduction to his collection of essays The Fatal Gift of Beauty. The Italies of British Travellers as he talks of an “intra‫ޤ‬European Meridionism”. Reading his observations, one cannot help but notice the parallelism between the way in which Italy was and partially still is considered by northern‫ޤ‬European travellers and the manner in which China appears in the eyes of western public. The case of Italian representations of China becomes even more peculiar when it is taken into account that a similar process was and is recognisable within Italy. Because of the regional differences accentuated by the circumstances of division in the past and persistent in the contradictory collective identity of a young unitary nation, Italians from the North and the South hold views of each other that echo the Orientalist discourse. An example of this situation is provided by the expert in Italian studies John Dickie (1999), who describes the construction of ideas of difference and of stereotypes of Otherness by Northern Italians when referring to Southern Italy. As the complex scenario in which Italian representations of China take place has been gradually unfolding, it has become evident that Italian perceptions of a Chinese entity and the manifestations of ideas of China elaborated as responses to these perceptions cannot be examined according to a uniform, essentialising classification. Instead, the distinctiveness and heterogeneity of such representations reflect the

36

Chapter One

peculiarity of the Italian case in the context of the variety and variability of Orientalist discourses.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have delineated the main theoretical issues that I have been facing while examining my case studies in the course of this research. By doing so, my aim has been not only to summarise what models I have been following in structuring my analysis, but also to show the types of questions that discussions of cultural representations can raise and to present possible ways of finding answers to these questions. From the explanation of the principal features of mimesis, determined by the intimate connection between synaesthetic experience and cognition, imitative practice has emerged with its character of epistemological technique. I have, in fact, illustrated how the mimetic process does not entail one’s intention to duplicate the Other, but one’s attempt to define the conceptual universe in which the Other can be given form and substance according to one’s own parameters to understand reality. At a closer look, this process reveals a poietic as well as an autopoietic activity; inasmuch the representation of the Other through mimesis is unavoidably self‫ޤ‬referential, at least to a certain extent. These considerations allowed me to observe further that the resulting irresolvable tension between likeness and difference can trigger occurrences of cultural appropriation. The latter, however, should not only be seen in terms of the gratuitous absorption of the Other’s cultural property and the imposition on this of one’s own cultural traits with the consequence of alienating the newly‫ޤ‬acquired elements from their culture of provenance. In a more comprehensive sense, appropriation can be intended as a constructive operation that continuously re‫ޤ‬formulates, re‫ޤ‬shapes and renews cultural identities in the light of their interactions. From this perspective, it becomes more immediate to think of Orientalism beyond the assimilation with colonial discourse. This is, in fact, only one aspect of a broader, more profound phenomenon that in its multifaceted character mirrors the complexity of the networks established between cultures. Having spelt out my views on the essential underlying notions in my investigation and defined what is here meant by mimesis, Other, appropriation, and Orientalism, I can now proceed to present and discuss the issues at stake in my case studies in the following chapters.

CHAPTER TWO CINESERIE IN ITALIAN DISPLAYS: TOWARDS NEW INTERACTIONS OF CULTURAL IDENTITIES. PART I: PERMANENT EXHIBITIONS

Introduction The discussion that develops in this book revolves around the shifting roles and functions of cineserie, and the changing attitudes with which these objects have been perceived and considered in the Italian context over the centuries up to our times. All these processes can be fully understood and explained only if they are examined—as I set out to do in this chapter and the following one—in relation to the socio‫ޤ‬cultural circumstances, modes of representation, history and physicality particular to the environment in which these objects were and are displayed. Emphasising the connections between the social and spatial relations of the museum with objects, curators and visitors, Tony Bennett (1995: 24), for instance, describes the threefold nature of the museum as “social space”, “space of representation”, and “space of observation”. In line with this theoretical model, the method used in the study of artefacts exploring the workings of their involvement with people and surroundings follows in the steps of the perspective embraced by the so‫ޤ‬called “new museology”. This approach keeps a strong focus on “the nature of the relationship between social systems, and the physical, three‫ޤ‬dimensional environment, and ... the ethnography of representation” (Saumarez Smith 1989: 21).24 As for both permanent and temporary arrangements, it has to be pointed out that the analysis that follows stems primarily from a general discourse on visibility/invisibility of the Chinese materials and topics found in a variety of public displays. In this respect, on the one hand, it will emerge to what extent, in each situation considered, things are just exposed to view so that the visitor can relate directly to the specimens and formulate conjectures by putting together all the information provided. On

38

Chapter Two

the other hand, it will become evident how much, in different circumstances, things are presented in a way so to incite specific reactions and impressions in the observer. As I will demonstrate, this is often achieved by constructing, deconstructing or reconstructing contexts. In other words, the instances in this and the next chapter will show the processes by which various kinds of exhibits and all the cultural features and values attached to them are either visible—graspable by means of a sensuous engagement—to the museum‫ޤ‬goer or become invisible, absorbed in the fabric of the physical and cultural environment where they are displayed. From the case studies selected in my fieldwork to explore these issues, it will also become clear that the presentation of cineserie in permanent collections differs considerably in criteria, aims and effects from the presentation of cineserie in one‫ޤ‬off exhibitions. For this reason, the need has been felt to introduce these phenomena below in two separate chapters, as complementary aspects, each with its own distinctive characteristics. Before treating in depth the issues of the peculiar dynamics at work in Italian perceptions and representations of China, it is however necessary to address in the next section the specificity of the “Italian case” as far as the evolution of display modalities are concerned.

Museum history and identity: “the Italian case” In the context of the history of museums in Europe, it was in Renaissance Italy that the art of collecting firstly reached an advanced form, contributing to the development of a historico‫ޤ‬cultural consciousness. The initial link of heterogeneous collections with the learned activities of courtly literati influenced the definition of “studiolo” as the mainly private space where objects of curiosity of various nature were displayed, contemplated and studied. This use of the term “studiolo” became increasingly associated with that of “museum”, the etymology of which has proved itself “a fascinating subject for study” (Findlen 2004: 24) for many experts. As a matter of fact, the original meanings of “musaeum” as sacred site of the nine Muses, Greek Goddesses of the Arts, and as place for the conservation of scholarly texts and for erudite research, like in the case of the Ptolemaic museion at Alexandria,25 well suited the idea of a circumscribed area dedicated to the learning and the cultivation of liberal arts. Study rooms with cabinets of curiosities became fashionable in rich residencies throughout Italy and spread across Europe. Among the numerous studioli constituted in the sixteenth century, the one organised by Francesco I (1541‫ޤ‬1587) of the Medici family in

Cineserie in Italian Displays: Part I

39

Florence was particularly famous for the rarity and preciousness of its objects. However, despite its prominence, it was accessible only to very few people, as it was primarily meant for the private intellectual and aesthetic enjoyment of the Grand Duke.26 Yet, the characteristics of seclusion and exclusiveness of the musaeum were in conflict with the political need of princes and monarchs to consolidate their public image. The decision to transform the courtly museums into more open and civic spaces was thus sometimes a “strategic” one. As Bennett (1995: 27) explains, “when, in 1584, the collection of Francesco I de’ Medici was transferred” from the studiolo in Palazzo Vecchio, between the representative rooms and the private family apartment, “into the new and more public context of the Uffizi Gallery, this was in response to the need for public legitimation of the Medici dynasty”. By doing so, the public display of collections—though still only accessible to a selected privileged minority—symbolised a demonstration of wealth and power and the affirmation of the ruler’s authority. The earliest example of these “proto‫ޤ‬museum” organisations, born for such purposes on the spontaneous initiative of influential individuals, is thought to date back to 1471, when Pope Sisto IV (1414‫ޤ‬1484) ordered for the most impressive statues in his collection at the Lateran to be moved to the public rooms at the Capitoline (Molajoli 1971: 53). On the basis of documented cases like this, Francesco Sisinni (1993: 112)—among other scholars—states that: “ ... it was in Italy that, more than four centuries ago, the museum intended in a modern sense took shape: gathering of collected materials in order to display and convey them to the visiting public” [my translation]. These semi‫ޤ‬public structures inspired similar institutions across Europe and paved the way towards the establishment of museums with a “fully public status” (Findlen 2004: 40) in the seventeenth century. The evolution of the image and functions of museums was favoured by the fact that culture in general ceased to be an exclusive privilege of the aristocracy and the clergy, and became more readily available to a growing number of people thanks to the increasing use of printing. The new cultural trend encouraged the gradual passage from an idea of “cultural property” intended as something to satisfy elitist needs to one of expression of a set of values to be collectively shared. The Ashmolean Museum in Oxford was the first museum in Europe to be proclaimed fully public in 1683, whereas in Italy the new model, further supported by the Enlightened thought, started gaining popularity somewhat later, from the early eighteenth century. Among the numerous public openings, in 1734 Pope Clemente XII (1652‫ޤ‬1740) declared public the Capitoline Museum, the collections of

40

Chapter Two

which had been greatly enriched since the first nucleus of objects offered by Sisto IV. A few decades after, in 1769, the Grand Duke Pietro Leopoldo (1747‫ޤ‬1792) also followed suit, opening completely to the public the Uffizi, which originated as a museum from the collections of Francesco I. The term “galleria”, used to describe the space where the Uffizi collections were displayed, started being adopted, already during the seventeenth century, for museums in general, which were no longer identified with the purposes and structural model of the studiolo. The shift in the terminology was a clear indication of the transformation of the concept of museum itself from static and private to dynamic and public. Thus, the ideal space for the collections was not any more a secluded room for the exclusive fruition of the owner, but a passageway, or galleria, for the enjoyment of the visitors. These tendencies influenced arrangements not only in public structures, but also in semi‫ޤ‬public areas of rich domestic interiors. The direct link between changed aims and revised architectural requirements is highlighted by Luca Basso Peressut and Fulvia Premoli (1985: 23): …at the time when the Galleria ceases to be part of the palace of the prince, of the rich patron and of the collector, a system corresponding to the owner’s lifestyle, in order to become a space destined for public use, collective object and structure with social purposes, the problem arises of its shape and spatial definition [my translation].

The organisation of space became essential to fulfil the new role and represent the new sense of collection and display. Architectural features and routes were planned with the intention to give a certain prominence to the objects presented, and to create settings in which the exhibits were well integrated and more easily intelligible. It was at this point in the development of the modern public museum that Italian policies started diverging from those increasingly popular elsewhere. As a matter of fact, in other European countries the rationalising and didactic criteria of museum architecture were applied to newly established museums purposely built for public fruition. An early example of this trend, the Altes Museum in Berlin, was designed in a neo‫ޤ‬classical style by the architect Karl Friedrich von Schinkel (1781‫ޤ‬1841) and opened in 1830. A particularly representative case is that of the British Museum: firstly housed in a seventeenth‫ޤ‬century mansion and opened in 1759, it underwent a substantial reconstruction and extension between 1823 and 1857 based on the plans of Sir Robert Smirke (1780‫ޤ‬1877) and his brother Sydney (1798‫ޤ‬1877). The new imposing

Cineserie in Italian Displays: Part I

41

structure well suited the public purposes and image of a modern institution, the collections of which not only belonged to the nation but could also be admired by everybody free of charge. As it was happening throughout Europe, during the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century in Italy the number of museums grew considerably, too, even though they were established in response to different needs and reasons, closely linked to local political circumstances. In fact, the events that conditioned the peculiar development in the history of Italian museums at a later stage already unfolded during the sixteenth century, with the fall of the signorie, the characteristic medieval and Renaissance Italian form of government of the city‫ޤ‬states. At the time when Spanish, Austrians and French gradually prevailed over the local authorities and occupied most of the peninsula, an ever‫ޤ‬increasing number of works of art started being moved from Italian collections to the royal collections of other European countries, either by means of acquisition by the new rulers, or by means of purchase from the previous Italian ruling families. The growing opposition of the locals to this phenomenon of uncontrolled dispersion of cultural property, together with the mounting intolerance of foreign intrusion and the pressing claims of self‫ޤ‬determination, strongly influenced the character of Italian museums in particular throughout the nineteenth century. The museum, as previously conceived in Italy and whilst it was establishing itself elsewhere, became more than a centre for collection, display, education and recreation, it became a place for the protection and the conservation of the local artistic treasures as well as of the local cultural identity. This aspect was emphasised even more after the achievement of national independence and unification with the official proclamation of the Kingdom of Italy in 1861. As museums and their collections were used by the newly‫ޤ‬formed State to construct and assert values of national identity, these deeply‫ޤ‬involved institutions can be described, in Andrea Emiliani’s words (1985: 16‫ޤ‬17), as “the first fruit of Italian culture intended as united and national, strongly imbued with historical and anthropological will”. From the second half of the nineteenth century onwards a myriad of small museums made of heterogeneous local collections spread throughout the country and developed most of all as places for historical memory and collective identity. Often these new establishments were housed in the same buildings where the objects were originally kept and displayed, such as religious or aristocratic palaces that had become property of the State, or, more rarely, municipal buildings already with public functions. For this reason, they did not bear the distinguishing architectural elements of the

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purposely‫ޤ‬built museums in other countries, where the conventions of a style of neo‫ޤ‬classical inspiration were mainly followed. Instead, Italian museums featured characteristic traits with a distinctive architectural, historical, and cultural relevance of their own, conditioned by the previous history and nature of the buildings. The close relationship between the premises and their immediate surroundings, as well as the particularly strong link between many museums and the local socio‫ޤ‬cultural, economic and political reality, decidedly contributed to the delineation of a varied scenario. The widely acclaimed idea of a museum of the city and for the city gave birth to the so‫ޤ‬called “civic museums”, with the intention to represent the local community and encourage its development. This model was successful especially in the north of the country. In this area, many cities and towns had been nourishing a sense of individuality and self‫ޤ‬subsistence since medieval times, when they were organised and administered in the form of comuni, namely “communes” with self‫ޤ‬governing municipal institutions. Differently, in central and southern Italy civic feelings and values were weaker as the chiefly conservative administration of the Papal State and the Bourbon Kingdom respectively had favoured the lingering of a rigid centralised, feudal system. Thus, the principle of a museum guided by ideals of local memory and identity received a more contained support. Besides the differences that emerged depending on the various regional circumstances, contrasting tendencies in the arrangement of post‫ޤ‬unification museums were also induced by the political attempt of the newly‫ޤ‬established Italian government to create a solid unified national consciousness. To illustrate this situation, Andrea Caldarelli (1999: 77‫ޤ‬95) presents two examples. In the first one, he describes the activity of Carlo Boni (1830‫ޤ‬1894), founder of the Civic Museum of Modena in 1871, who believed in a national culture taking shape from the diverse realities of each city and building its strength on the variety of all the civic traditions. In the second one, the emphasis laid on a less localised dimension by Luigi Pigorini (1842‫ޤ‬1925), institutor of the National Museum of Prehistory and Ethnography in Rome in 1876, was in line with the centralising policy of the young Kingdom of Italy. As a matter of fact, the gradual concentration of political and administrative powers in the hands of the State at the expense of municipal initiative had also implications on the management of cultural property, to the extent that a Direzione Centrale degli Scavi e dei Musei d’Italia (Central Administrative Department for the Archaeological Sites and the Museums of Italy) was created in 1875. Such a policy paved the way to the promulgation of a series of laws with a distinctive protectionist imprint. Experts on the history and the

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conditions of Italian museums have often pointed out that already the first laws of the years 1902 and 1909 were based on an idea of the museum as a complex of movable cultural property owned by the State, preserved and protected by the relevant local superintendence. This principle was reinforced in the law known as “Legge di Tutela Bottai” 1089/1939, named after the Minister of Education Giuseppe Bottai—in office from 1936 to 1943—who proposed the law. The latter, though modified on different occasions, has been still valid in its original essence until a few years ago. Aiming at setting the rules about the property and the circulation of artistic and archaeological objects, it recognised the museum as an official entity, even if with the status of not much more than “container of things”. Yet, this law failed at defining the museum’s juridical identity, and at acknowledging its active socio‫ޤ‬cultural role in the transmission, exchange and construction of knowledge.27 In the report of a survey on the conditions of Italian museums conducted in 1971, the legislative backwardness was identified as one of the main causes of the limited and slow evolution of the museum’s appearance and function in modern Italy. In the same publication, Bruno Molajoli (1971: 54, 61) calls for a new legislation in order to re‫ޤ‬structure objectives and organisation of an institution that he considers as anachronistic. The responses to these growing concerns have been a series of decrees and bills in the attempt to find a balance in the dichotomy between centralisation and local autonomy, and to widen the scope of the museum’s competences and tasks. In particular, in 1990 the Ministry of Cultural Property instituted a special commission to study the problems of museum management, and the legislative decree 490/1999 finally outlined a more specific description of the museum’s space and uses. The article 99, paragraph 1 of this decree reads: “museum: any given structure organised for the conservation, the enhancement and the public fruition of collections of cultural assets” [my translation]. 28 Furthermore, in recent years the Italian National Committee of ICOM (International Council of Museums)—founded in the early 1970s—has been particularly active in its role as supporter of museum institutions and promoter of the development of museum management according to the definition of “museum” approved by ICOM itself: A museum is a non‫ޤ‬profit, permanent institution in the service of society and its development, open to the public, which acquires, conserves, researches, communicates and exhibits the tangible and intangible heritage of humanity and its environment for the purposes of education, study and enjoyment.29

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Its initiatives, in cooperation with other cultural and museum associations, have led to the first National Conference of Italian Museums, which took place in October 2005 and will be held once every year as an important occasion for an open debate among museum professionals. Yet, despite these timid—though promising—reformist measures, many scholars are still dissatisfied with the overall picture of museums in Italy nowadays. The majority of my informants—both academics and curators—have denounced a culturally enclosed, out‫ޤ‬of‫ޤ‬touch reality, in which museum staff generally are either helplessly left in isolation by the authorities, or deliberately hide themselves behind the rhetoric of a past glory and the old exclusivity of an elitist culture, in the fear of exposing themselves to the confrontation with others’ ideas. As Italian museums face the challenge of both epochal changes and complicated endemic circumstances, it must be recognised that a series of peculiar historical and socio‫ޤ‬cultural elements have inevitably created a situation different from that of other European museums. The overwhelming proportions of the Italian artistic heritage, the unique network of more than 3,000 museums of various types and sizes, the traditional emphasis on works of art produced in Italy, and the old‫ޤ‬fashioned, rigid division between arti maggiori (“major arts”)—architecture, painting and sculpture —and arti minori (“minor arts”)30—decorative arts and handicrafts—are among the main factors that account for the limited, slow evolution of the museum’s appearance and function in modern Italy. Hence, in order to move on, it is now required to reach unanimous agreement on the fact that—as Molajoli (1971: 91) was already highlighting in the 1970s—the artistic legacy of a country is not only made of the works of art executed by its people, but it is the outcome of an aesthetic culture that has also been feeding itself on the value, experience and products of other interacting cultures. Once this is achieved, it will be easier for the Italian museum to become what Giovanni Pinna (1989 [1980]: 80‫ޤ‬81) describes as an instrument to transcend local realities, merging particular and universal in a more open cultural design. In the light of these considerations, the link between the peculiarities of the “Italian case” and the development of the museums’ collection and display of a diverse range of works of art representing China in different ways emerges as inextricable. The following discussion of the mechanisms of reception, perception, and presentation of these objects in different museum environments and depending on varying curatorial policies—as they have revealed themselves during my fieldwork experience—will be based on the recognition of the interaction between material experience of the Other and consciousness of the Self, and vice versa. The role and

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conditions of cineserie in Italian museums today is consequently analysed within a framework that considers the centrality and reciprocity of phenomenological and epistemological processes.

The museum and its territory In the course of my fieldwork in Italian museums, I was constantly trying to distinguish the levels of harmony and tension between cineserie and other objects on display, as well as to ascertain the perceptive and cognitive dynamics between cineserie and people, including museum professionals, academics and visitors. The continuous practical need to spatially locate the selected institutions and to map out their geographical settings helped me in this task. I gradually realised that the physical and cultural connection between the museum itself and its immediate surroundings imbues with substance and meaning the relationships I was concerned about. In other words, the relations between the object and the space in which it is located are not independently understandable without considering, first of all, the museum’s position in its local physical environment and socio‫ޤ‬cultural context. As I set out to retrace my journey through nine relevant collections of Chinese art and chinoiserie in Italian museums, before examining the specific contents of the collections themselves, I will always start by looking at the museums in which these are displayed and their local settings. This becomes an even more crucial operation in a situation where—as mentioned in the section above—the connection between museum and surroundings, constantly emphasised by Italian scholars briefly in older studies (Molajoli 1971: 133; Panzeri 1986: 141; Pinna 1989 [1980]: 81) and profusely in more recent publications (Bonaretti 2002; Pansini 2004; Minucciani 2005), is a determining factor in the museum’s fate and identity. Hinted at by the majority of my informants in different ways, the significance of the physical location of the collections finally emerged as an open statement only while I was visiting my last destination, the National Museum of Oriental Art in Rome. Laura Giuliano, curator of the Indian art collection, spontaneously joined in my conversation with the museum’s librarian to express her views about the conditions of museums nationwide. She underlined that: “the peculiarity of Italian museums lies in the fact that they are strongly related to the territory”.31 On the basis of this undeniable observation, the actual meaning of this “relation” has gradually come to light during my fieldwork. One of the main characteristics emerging from my experience is the fact that the nature and the

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manifestation of the links between museum and territory can vary from one geographical area to another. Furthermore, it is equally influential whether by “relation” in this specific context it is intended a positive bond and a constructive dialogue between the two parts, or a clash between two conflicting, not‫ޤ‬well‫ޤ‬integrated realities. In order to define the kind of relationship established between a certain institution and the environment within which it lives, the scale of public success and the spatial location of the museum are certainly indicators to be taken into account. Yet, these are not the only determinant elements. The response of the community as a whole—including the authorities—as well as the history of the museum itself and the local cultural and historical circumstances have a decisive weight in this respect. Some examples will demonstrate these points more clearly in the coming sections. Focusing firstly on the museums examined in my research and secondly on their collections of cineserie, I trace below a sort of itinerary of “visibility”. In other words, I present the museums in an order that progresses from the institutions that are more hidden and marginalised in their local physical and socio‫ޤ‬cultural context to those that stand out and contribute significantly to the distinctiveness of the local reality. I then move on to delineate the displays of cineserie in these institutions, proceeding from those that appear more estranged from and overshadowed by the rest of the collections around them to those that emerge in a prominent location and role among other objects. In this analysis, I will also highlight how and to what extent the visibility of the museum affects the visibility of its cineserie.

The invisible museum The Museo Nazionale della Ceramica (National Museum of Ceramics) Duca di Martina in Naples represents a case in which geographical position, local history and popular cultural tradition, all account together for the marginality of the museum within the cultural heritage and with regards to public involvement. The museum’s director, Luisa Ambrosio, provided me with her description of the situation. “This is a museum with few visitors...”—she started off—“... people are not attracted because this is a difficult museum and tourists prefer other amenities and more easily accessible places”. Situated on the slope of the Neapolitan hill called Vomero, the quickest and most convenient way to reach the museum from the city centre is by funicular railway. Coming out of the station there are no signs to suggest the presence of the museum nearby and to help the strangers to find it. Moreover, the premises—an old aristocratic mansion

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in the middle of a park—are surrounded by massive, tall walls and one of the entrances—a relatively small opening in the walls—is indicated on a signboard placed immediately next to it. Interestingly, not even this sign does mention the Duca di Martina Museum but, instead, it refers to the Villa Floridiana. This is the name by which the palace that now houses the museum is traditionally known and which dates back to the beginning of the nineteenth century. King Ferdinando IV of Bourbon (1751‫ޤ‬1825), returned to Naples in 1815 after a short‫ޤ‬lived French domination (1798‫ޤ‬1814), acquired the neoclassic‫ޤ‬style building as a gift for his second wife Lucia Migliaccio (1770‫ޤ‬1825), Duchess of Floridia, and called it “La Floridiana” in her honour. Although the public awareness of the name’s origin may have gradually faded away, the name itself has remained strong in the collective memory. These local historical vicissitudess have thus left a permanent trace: the fact that the palace has been displaying the decorative arts collection—including 1,200 pieces of oriental works of art—of Placido de Sangro (1829‫ޤ‬1891) Duke of Martina since 1927, seems to be only of secondary importance. In order to verify this discrepancy, I asked passers‫ޤ‬by—mostly local residents—for directions to reach the museum. As a result, only a minority recognised it with its official name, but everybody could tell me where “La Floridiana” was. As evident in the city’s urban development and in various aspects of the Neapolitan cultural tradition, the particular phase of the Bourbons’ rule (1735‫ޤ‬1860) in the local history has undoubtedly cast an indelible mark up to our times in the urban geography. Through my experience I could witness how even the identity of the National Museum of Ceramics has been influenced by this legacy. The museum’s collections, which were not originally kept on these premises but were acquired in the early twentieth century by means of a donation from a nephew of Placido de Sangro, thus remain, in the local imaginary, somewhat detached form the character and circumstances of the palace where they are housed. A sense of detachment of the museum structure and the subject of its collection from the rest of the local urban museum network and the local urban environment in general can be also perceived as far as the Museo di Arte Orientale (Museum of Oriental Art) in Venice is concerned. In this case, while the geographical position is not a great obstacle to the museum’s accessibility, the arrangements made for the museum’s location and the way it is presented to the public are the main causes for the museum’s marginality. Composed of the oriental works of art and the ethnographic objects collected by Enrico of Bourbon (1851‫ޤ‬1905) Count of Bardi during his journey to the Far East between 1887 and 1889, the

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museum has always been struggling to become integrated in the local cultural reality and to build a link with the city. Since the laborious acquisition by the State of part of the Count’s collection—the rest having already been sold privately—between 1914 and 1924, the authorities encountered many difficulties to find new premises for the museum, mainly because of the constraints caused by World War I. Some space was finally allocated on the third floor of Ca’ Pesaro, an eighteenth‫ޤ‬century palace that had already been transformed into a modern art gallery by its last private owner, the Duchess Felicita Bevilacqua La Masa (1822‫ޤ‬1899). With the onset of World War II, all the objects had to be removed and safely stored elsewhere. After the war, the collection was once again displayed on the third floor at Ca’ Pesaro. Yet, as the first and second floors of the building continued to host the museum of modern art, the Museum of Oriental Art never managed to completely fit in this environment, to the point that the authorities became concerned about looking for a more “natural home” for the collection. For this purpose, the State bought in 1981 Palazzo Marcello, also with the intention to provide premises that would favour a greater involvement of the museum in the life of the local community. Three decades later, the project has not been accomplished yet. The precariousness and temporariness of the museum’s conditions clearly emerge even before arriving at Ca’ Pesaro, in Fondamenta Pesaro. In the maze of characteristic narrow streets typical of Venice’s urban plan, there are sufficient signs directing the unfamiliar visitors towards the Galleria Internazionale di Arte Moderna (International Gallery of Modern Art). There is, however, no mention at all of the Museum of Oriental Art), even if it shares the same building and, with 30,000 objects, holds the biggest collection of oriental art in Italy. Only once Ca’ Pesaro’s entrance is in sight, on one side of the gates, below an imposing board dedicated to the modern art gallery, it is finally possible to notice a smaller one referring to the museum of oriental art. Fiorella Spadavecchia, director of the latter, explained to me—as she also did some years ago in a special issue of the Quaderni della Soprintendenza ai Beni Artistici e Storici di Venezia (1990: 12)—the unease of the relationship between the museum and the city as follows: ... the Civic Authorities felt the moral obligation, in the name of the long tradition that linked the city to the Orient, to take responsibility for the impressive Bardi collection, in some way, almost forgetting that there was no specific reason to bind it to the civic community. Despite the authorities’ efforts, the unrelatedness of these materials to the city, the numerous financial and organisational difficulties in

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which it had been struggling since its establishment, made the museum’s relationship with the city complicated [my translation].

While in this case the geographical position within the urban structure does not pose in itself obstacles to the visibility and accessibility of the museum, the location of the Museo Nazionale di Arte Orientale (National Museum of Oriental Art) Giuseppe Tucci in Rome plays a determinant role in the museum’s fortune. The peculiarity of the situation lies in the fact that this museum remains hidden and easily passes unnoticed not because of a peripheral position, as it has been observed for the Duca di Martina Museum in Naples, but because of its central location in the heart of Rome. Among well‫ޤ‬kept old residential palaces, it overlooks a wide long boulevard and is situated within walking distance from a number of the city’s most famous historical and artistic landmarks, such as the Coliseum, the Roman Forum and the Basilica of St. John Lateran. Needless to say, the tourists’ attention is captured elsewhere. Even the big red banners with the museum’s name on the front of the building, partially covered by some tall trees, are not of much help at attracting visitors. Maria Luisa Giorgi, curator of the Chinese art collection, observed: “People certainly do not come to Rome in order to visit the Museum of Oriental Art ...” Continuing, she complained: The authorities know that, and allocate money and resources accordingly, investing more in cultural and artistic institutions that can guarantee higher returns in the tourist industry. This means that those considered as “minor attractions” are left neglected and struggling to survive.

As the museum is constrained by its own surroundings and almost swallowed by the overwhelming fame of the city it belongs to, its cultural importance and the historical urgency of its foundation appear to have been forgotten. Established in 1957 by decree of the President of the Republic at the time, Giovanni Gronchi (1887‫ޤ‬1978), its essential function was officially recognised: On the grounds of the need to institute a national Museum of oriental art in Rome, thus providing our Country with an Institute of which it is devoid, despite the fact that Italy boasts a long tradition of oriental research and studies…32 [my translation].

Yet, it is worth pointing out that Brancaccio Palace, the late‫ޤ‬nineteenth‫ޤ‬century patrician residence where the museum is housed, is nowadays characterised by the ambivalence of two co‫ޤ‬existing fates. On

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the one hand, the wing occupied by the museum’s galleries and offices faces a difficult situation of semi‫ޤ‬obscurity to the public eyes. By contrast, on the other hand, the rest of the building lives up to the popular memory of the many elegant parties thrown by its previous noble owners, the Brancaccio Princes, until the early twentieth century. As a matter of fact, the sumptuous halls on this side of the palace are managed by the Roma Party Company, which still organises, on request, luxurious public and private functions. Internationally renowned, this venue is regularly reserved for receptions by leading firms, such as Honda, Coca Cola, Cartier, Mercedes Benz and the like.

Contained visibility Also located in the heart of the historical city centre, the Galleria Nazionale di Palazzo Spinola (National Gallery of Spinola Palace) in Genoa represents a case in opposition to that of the National Museum of Oriental Art in Rome, as far as the integration in the urban network and the relationship with the local community are concerned. Built in 1953 on medieval foundations by the noble Grimaldi family, Spinola Palace takes its name from the Spinola family, who acquired the mansion by inheritance in 1734. It was finally transformed into a museum in 1959, after being donated to the State by the Marquises Paolo and Franco Spinola. Despite its central position, the museum at Spinola Palace has been suffering for a long time from the reputation of the immediate surroundings’ urban decay and social problems. For this reason, it still remains not widely known to outsiders. Only in the last few years, cultural authorities and local tradesmen and craftsmen have joined forces in the attempt to revaluate the Gallery and consequently, the area around it, the origins of which date back to the eleventh century. The cooperation among the Soprintendenza per il Patrimonio Storico, Artistico e Demo‫ޤ‬Etno‫ޤ‬Antropologico (Superintendence for the Historical, Artistic and Demo‫ޤ‬Ethno‫ޤ‬Anthropological Heritage) of the Liguria Region, the museum, and local businesses is aimed at promoting the diffusion of the awareness of the artistic beauty, the cultural wealth and the full liveability of the environment where they all operate. A product of this joint effort has been the publication of a guide to the museum and local shops and amenities, a copy of which was proudly offered to me as a gift by Marie Luce Repetto, assistant to the museum’s director. In the booklet, the sense of belonging of the Spinola Palace to the city is immediately clear from the first sentences (Simonetti 2001: 1):

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An aristocratic palace in the heart of the close urban network of alleyways, between the old harbour, opposite Genoa’s Aquarium, and the monumental Strada Nuova, today’s Garibaldi Street, wonderful sequence of the residences of prestigious families of the Republic of Genoa [my translation].

In order to leave a further long‫ޤ‬lasting sign of the historical link between the Spinola family and not only the city, but also the wider surroundings, the donors themselves had suggested using the third and fourth floors of the palace as “Galleria della Liguria” (Art Gallery of Liguria). In fulfilment of this plan, this area, while housing more objects from the original Spinola collections—including a relevant quantity of Chinese and chinoiserie porcelain—is now also allocated to the display of the works of art acquired by the region through governmental funding. The museum’s visitors are reminded of the special cultural and physical connection of the palace with Genoa up to the end of their route, as they arrive on a roof terrace overlooking the city. In the concluding sentences of her booklet, the museum’s director Farida Simonetti (2001: 16) poignantly describes the “miradore”, as the Genoese are used to call this type of terraces, from “mirare”, meaning “to admire”, “to gaze at”: Finally, at the end of the route through the building’s floors, the maze of alleys leading to the Palace can be discovered in a bird’s‫ޤ‬eye view, thanks to the restoration of the traditional “miradore” on the roof: a modern viewpoint on the emerging features in the heart of the city around the residence of the Spinola family [my translation].

The instances of the Palazzo Reale (Royal Palace) in Turin and the royal residence at Racconigi are similar to that of Spinola Palace as for the inclusion in the indigenous collective identity and the effort to spread the popularity beyond local recognition are concerned. However, the two Piedmontese palaces, which belonged to the then ruling Casa Savoia (House of Savoy) from the sixteenth and fourteenth century respectively up to the mid‫ޤ‬twentieth century and which include in their displays today a variety of Chinese artefacts and chinoiserie from the family’s private collections, differ from the Genoese case in one crucial aspect. They also embody the local awareness of a strong involvement in matters of national political identity. Located at the heart of the historic urban area, the Museum of the Royal Palace of Turin constitutes a pivotal reference point for the citizens, since its historical vicissitudes have been interconnected to the fates not only of the city, but also of Italy as a nation. This palace was, in fact, first

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used by the Savoia family as their main residence, while they were the rulers of Northwest Italy and Sardinia, and subsequently as the first seat of the Italian monarchy, after contributing to the country’s unification under their Crown, in 1861. Reminders of such crucial times are now detectable in the arrangement of the historic royal apartment on the first floor, which mostly follows the layout of the mid‫ޤ‬nineteenth century, and in the monumental staircase that Vittorio Emanuele II (1820‫ޤ‬1878) commissioned in 1862 to celebrate the birth of the new nation. However, the palace fell into neglect after the collapse of the monarchy in 1948 and, apart from sporadic attempts of partial restoration later in the twentieth century, only very recently it has undergone a major makeover as part of a wider project in preparation for Turin’s Winter Olympics in February 2006. The works and the additional funding were very welcome by the museum’s administrators, the assistant curator Francesca Ferro revealed in our conversation. As she described the situation of the collections, she complained that for a structure with a big potential of attracting visitors, the management of the resources is still insufficient and a lot more needs to be done to compile a complete catalogue of the objects and to update the display. However, she pointed out that one of the main obstacles to the museum’s modernisation and a more satisfying availability of its collections lied in the fact that “Turin and the area of Piedmont remain in a disadvantaged, marginalised position, in comparison with other parts of the country, because they receive less consideration from the government authorities with regards to the conservation of the artistic heritage”. It is thus left to the local initiative and some private sponsorship to boost the visibility and accessibility of relevant museum institutions that would otherwise remain in the shadow and little known to outsiders. I encountered a similar situation at the Castello di Racconigi (Racconigi Castle), the summer residence of the Savoia family. The palace takes the name from the small, sleepy town of Racconigi in the countryside, a half‫ޤ‬an‫ޤ‬hour ride by train from Turin. Nowadays open to the public, it can only be accessed in guided tours that usually last between an hour and an hour and a half and include a visit to the private and official apartments on the first and second floor, the kitchens and—from March to November—the park. What I found particularly striking when I visited the palace was the personal emotional involvement of the two museum’s guides who accompanied me on separate occasions. Their enthusiasm was perceivable as they were describing in detail all the features of furnishing and architecture, and as they were presenting the history of the complex in general, with its close links to the local history and the history of Italy. For example, one of the guides took me on an

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exclusive tour of the third floor, the last lived‫ޤ‬in royal apartment in the early twentieth century, and showed me the bedroom where Umberto II, the last king of Italy, was born in 1904. As for visitors’ attendance, my first guide specified that the flow is seasonal and that, besides a certain number of groups coming from other parts of Italy, most of the visitors are Piedmontese and French, the latter being prompted by the geographical proximity and a long tradition of cultural contacts. He then echoed the comments I had already heard in Turin, but he said to be hopeful for some signs of improvement that started to be noticeable in the cultural tourism industry of the Piedmont area.

Visible landmarks of locality While in the three cases illustrated above, the museums are engaged in affirming their identity beyond the acknowledgement they already benefit from in their own territory, Ca’ Rezzonico in Venice—also known as Museo del Settecento Veneziano (Museum of Eighteenth‫ޤ‬Century Venice) —enjoys a long‫ޤ‬established, wide recognition as a major institution that culturally represents the city in which it is located. The palace itself is a landmark in the Venetian landscape: its imposing façade overlooks the Grand Canal, almost opposite Palazzo Grassi, another illustrious eighteenth‫ޤ‬century building of worldwide fame for its important exhibitions of visual arts, including the International Art Biennale. Views of Ca’ Rezzonico, at various stages of its construction between the seventeenth century and the mid‫ޤ‬eighteenth century, are frequent in the paintings of local artists of the time. Acquired by the authorities of the city of Venice in 1935, it was immediately destined to house an extensive collection of eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Venetian arts and crafts, which was arranged as to reconstruct the appearance of a lived‫ޤ‬in eighteenth‫ޤ‬century residence. The fact that this museum space and the overall atmosphere are deeply imbued of a sense of genuine local pride is mirrored in the attitude of its director, Filippo Pedrocco. When I introduced to him my interest in Chinese artistic products and cineserie in Venice for the purposes of my research, he enumerated a few items in the collection that he thought might be relevant to me. He then continued underlining with enthusiasm “the essential role of Venice, in the past, as centre of re‫ޤ‬distribution of goods from the East towards the rest of Europe”. However, he explained that “the great wealth of Chinese objects that circulated through the city across the centuries has moved on and, in any case, there is no presence of them in the museum”. He did not speculate as for the disproportion in the quantity of extant Chinese artefacts and Venetian chinoiserie, but he

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stressed indeed that the latter are “a re‫ޤ‬elaboration of the Chinese materials, with the porcelain expressing an oriental taste filtered through Germany and the lacquerware being a more local product”. Two further case studies in Naples owe their widespread popularity to a combination of advantageous characteristics similar to those of Ca’ Rezzonico and, at the same time, analogous to those of the Piedmontese instances. As a matter of fact, with their strong indigenous elements of arts and crafts, location in the limelight and reflections of distinctive features of significant past political circumstances, these museum institutions are emblematic manifestations of the local community identity. The Museo di Palazzo Reale (Museum of the Royal Palace) in Naples is located in the proximity of the famous and trendy Via Toledo, just on the south‫ޤ‬western side of the historic city centre. Built in the seventeenth century for the Spanish rulers, it is from 1919 a public structure where the elegant rooms of the historic royal apartment attract numerous visitors, the National Library offers services to many scholars and important thematic exhibitions and special events are regularly held. As the curator Annalisa Porzio explained to me as she guided me on a visit to a set of eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese watercolours and on a tour of the most representative area open to the public, the Royal Palace plays an important role in the city’s cultural life. She also added that to many Neapolitans— especially the more mature generations—it is a nostalgic symbol of the splendour and power of ancient times, when Naples was the capital of a kingdom. Even on the official website of the Museum of the Royal Palace, one can detect a hint of this mixed feeling of nostalgia and pride when reading, on the homepage: “Still today the Largo del Palazzo, now Plebiscito Square, is one of the State’s centres of power in Naples, since the seats of the Military Command in Southern Italy and of the Prefecture overlook it” [my translation]. 33 That a certain recollection of the later phase of the Spanish domination has remained imbedded in the collective memory has already emerged in the previous example of the Duca di Martina Museum. In particular, during casual conversations with my local acquaintances, it stood out on a number of occasions that the rule of Carlo of Bourbon (1716‫ޤ‬1788) and his son Ferdinando IV (1751‫ޤ‬1825) is considered a culturally flourishing period, as the two kings were enthusiastic patrons of arts and crafts. One of the most relevant legacies of their patronage is the Museo di Capodimonte (Museum of Capodimonte), another of my destinations in Naples where I could find porcelain and lacquerware cineserie. The characteristics of its location are already enough to grant to the museum a privileged status among local museums. Situated on a hill on the outskirts

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of Naples, next to the Capodimonte Woods, it dominates the scene in a panoramic position over the Gulf of Naples and the city itself. Built by order of Carlo of Bourbon, who commissioned it in 1738 as a hunting residence, this palace has in its original structure a peculiar advantage that makes of it a suitable venue for today’s museum. As a matter of fact, Carlo of Bourbon had already planned it so that it would conveniently house the Farnese collection, 34 inherited from his mother Elisabetta Farnese (1692‫ޤ‬1766), and the Real Museo Borbonico (Royal Bourbon Museum), including the Bourbon collection of Neapolitan art. Besides the original collections, still on display, the Museum of Capodimonte also holds later and contemporary acquisitions that contribute to the international fame of this institution.

Marginal cineserie As the subdivisions suggested above show, it is possible to distinguish certain specific patterns in the levels of integration and visibility of a museum in its surrounding environment. These characteristics, in their turn, affect the placement and perception of cineserie in the context of the rest of the collections on display in each museum. The workings of these internal relations develop according to coherent schemes, which my case studies have helped to highlight. It can be noticed that the museums that have built their identity around collections loosely related to the local cultural reality—in this case, the museums of oriental art in particular—and make of objects not produced locally their main features appear as intruders. Finding themselves out of place, they struggle to achieve a fulfilling complementary role in the local network of museums. They thus remain logistically and culturally isolated and neglected. As a consequence of this disadvantaged situation, the Chinese objects and chinoiserie—mostly already integrated in private nineteenth‫ޤ‬century collections and to a lesser extent acquired through more recent isolated museum purchases—that I found in the collections of these museums also encounter problems of presentation and accessibility. More in detail, at the Museum of Oriental Art in Venice, the display of Chinese artefacts suffers from being in an inadequate and small space. The structure cannot be sufficiently upgraded because—as explained earlier—the location of the museum itself is still temporary. As a result, most of the rooms available are dedicated to Japanese artefacts—especially weaponry, lacquerware and painted scrolls—reflecting the preferences of Enrico of Bourbon, the collector who—as previously mentioned in this chapter on page—first

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gathered all the objects during his travels to the Far East in the nineteenth century. Only one room towards the end of the route, just before the room for the South‫ޤ‬East Asian repertoire, has been allocated to Chinese objects. The latter, apart from a couple of decorative screens and some jade pieces, include porcelain products of various periods and types. Other Chinese artefacts also part of the collection, such as traditional silk robes, have not been put on display because of the space limitations. A large number of porcelain specimens are concentrated in old glass cases, and are grouped by typology, namely “famille verte”, “monochromes”, “polychromes”, “blue and white”, “famille noire”. 35 The groupings are clarified on an explanatory A4 sheet available for consultation at the entrance of the room. However, the cases are only marked with numbers and the objects are not individually labelled. Differently from this anonymous crowd, a big porcelain vase with the distinctive coat of arms of the Bardi—the collector’s—family stands on its own in an eminent position. Despite the modernisation claimed by the curator Fiorella Spadavecchia, the style of the arrangement with crammed cabinets remains completely out of touch with modern‫ޤ‬times public, as it retains the flavour of the “horror vacui” of the ancient cabinets of curiosities and gallerie mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. The few visitors in the museum are overwhelmed by the quantity of the objects and the density of the display, they just cast a quick, puzzled glance over the cases, while they walk through the room. The overall result is that of a set of artefacts trapped in the past of the collection they belong to and powerless to communicate an immediately graspable sense of their Chinese cultural provenance. The Chinese objects in the Museum of Oriental Art in Rome are also unable to emerge and attract the interest of the small number of visitors. The general state of neglect and the outdated arrangement of the museum’s collections have unavoidable negative repercussions on the Chinese section. The latter has become difficult to manage, according to the curator Maria Luisa Giorgi, because it has been allowed to grow too big, in comparison with the other sections. This is due—the curator denounced—to a disorganised acquisition policy, which depends on an already unbalanced original collection inherited by the ISIAO (The Italian Institute for African and Oriental Studies) and supplemented, in time, by rare donations and occasional purchases subject to the inconstant availability of funds. Furthermore, inadequate facilities and lack of coordination among the activities of the curators of the various sections— the museum librarian claimed—make it impossible to optimise the space allocated to the specimens of each geographical area. From my conversation with the librarian it also emerged that the operations directed

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by administrative authorities have, in the past, given priority to the preservation of the premises, with their strong local connection, rather than to the public revaluation of the collections, legacies of distant cultures. As a matter of fact, on the occasion of improvement works in the 1950s, the efforts were concentrated on the rescue and restoration of the palace’s original decorations. In contrast, little consideration was given to a more effective display of the objects. The new cabinets commissioned by the ministerial architect and still used today, do not allow a satisfactory view of the specimens, and are not functional to vary the arrangement and easily remove the pieces for maintenance and conservation. As I was able to verify personally, the rooms of the “China” section fully reflect the overall atmosphere of the museum. The objects languish in dark and barren areas. The arrangement is not homogenous, since it follows at times, divisions by types of artefacts—such as the room for large landscape paintings and the room for pottery of different periods and manufactures—at times, a rough chronological order, like in the room for Neolithic and Bronze Age material culture. The display in some cases is incomplete and sometimes Japanese and South‫ޤ‬East Asian objects appear together with Chinese ones with no clear explanation. Thus, despite the variety of artefacts, the picture of China suggested by this arrangement is fragmentary and soulless, made even more enigmatic by the aesthetic detachment between the Chinese objects and their Roman settings. The great assortment of Chinese porcelain at the Duca di Martina Museum in Naples also remains in the shadow and does not receive the public attention that a collection of such an artistic relevance deserves. However, the reasons of this insufficient visibility are different from those identified in the previous two examples. Access to the Chinese artefacts has been often problematic in the history of this museum, as the director explained. They had to be removed from the display to allow building works necessary to repair the damages caused during World War II. Later, in the 1970s, this part of the collection was again not accessible because of safety concerns due to dampness and structural faults. Only in the year 2000 has it been possible to rearrange the objects for display, thanks to a long project carried out by Lucia Caterina, professor of Chinese art at the University of Naples. Hence, the oriental collection, with its major section of Chinese porcelain, as well as a number of Japanese pieces and a group of Chinese and Japanese bronzes, jades, and lacquerware, has been housed in a purposefully restored space. This is a big area in the palace’s basement, where modern systems for the security and the preservation of the objects have been installed. The new glass cabinets, clear explanatory panels and individual labels make it easy to view the specimens. Yet, the

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distribution of the Chinese porcelain, which follows a chronological order, is conditioned by the restrictions of the original architectural features. Thus, the open‫ޤ‬plan layout, with divisions provided by supporting pillars and arches, creates a certain effect of overcrowding. Even with the new facilities, the main obstacle to the visibility of this part of the museum’s collections remains linked to difficulties of access. Because of under‫ޤ‬staffing —a consequence of lack of funds—the museum’s administration has decided to keep open to the public most of the time only the rooms on the first floor. These chiefly contain eighteenth‫ޤ‬century porcelain of various European—including Neapolitan—manufactures, which in general attract more visitors. As a result, the basement can just be visited on most weekends and remains often closed during weekdays.

Hidden cineserie In the three cases considered so far, it has emerged that important and rich collections of Chinese artefacts suffer, nevertheless, from poor public awareness or inadequate curatorial consideration mainly because they are housed in institutions struggling to affirm their presence and identity in their territory. However, it can be observed that other collections of cineserie face a similar situation of difficult visibility in opposite circumstances. In different ways, they are overwhelmed by the weight of the hosting museum structures, which, through their own history and identity, enjoy a consolidated position within and beyond civic recognition. Furthermore, the strong local elements in the display seem to swallow the other objects that do not share a direct cultural connection with the immediate surroundings. Ca’ Rezzonico in Venice provides a clear example of this phenomenon. The modest number of Chinese porcelain vases is distributed, together with a small quantity of Japanese porcelain vases, in three rooms on the first floor, including the spacious ballroom at the very beginning of the visiting route. For their considerable dimensions and shiny surfaces, the vases are immediately recognisable in the arrangement of each room. However, what is striking is that they do not stand out as autonomous entities, but are presented as part of peculiar eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Venetian compositions. In particular, a few are supported by gilt wooden columns in a typical Venetian rococo style, as specified on the labels. Most of the other Chinese vases are held on top of ebony sculptures manufactured by the Venetian ebonist Andrea Brustolon (1662‫ޤ‬1732) at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Some of these sculptures are in the shape of classical columns or classical figures, some others are carved as chained

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Moor slaves. The use of classical features and elements evoking the glorious past of Venice as a maritime power, as well as the combination of Venetian and Chinese craftsmanship provides explicit and metaphorical references to the ancient prominent role of Venice in the context of commercial and cultural relationships with peoples of distant lands, such as the Chinese. At the same time, in a museum where the emphasis is on the local arts and crafts, the only other hints at a certain cultural influence from China can be found in a few items of Venetian chinoiserie furniture—the most precious being a bureau trumeau36 with chinoiserie motifs on the doors—and a group of Venetian porcelain items of the famous local Vezzi (1720‫ޤ‬1727) and Cozzi (1764‫ޤ‬1812) manufactures. If the visitors at Ca’ Rezzonico may just notice the Chinese allusions along the route, among the many masterpieces of Venetian artists and artisans, the visitors at the museum of the Royal Palace in Naples may find it difficult to locate a group of Chinese export watercolours that were in the Bourbon collections during the eighteenth century. Dispersed and forgotten when the Bourbon royal family fled to Palermo because of a popular uprising in Naples in 1799, these eighteenth‫ޤ‬century watercolours were rediscovered by chance during restoration works at the palace in recent years. After being the subject matter of an exhibition in 2001, the museum authorities agreed to hang them in a small room of the Royal Apartment on the first floor. The curator Annalisa Porzio explained to me that this decision aimed at creating a sort of “Chinese room” post litteram—as she proudly described it—an element that had always been missing at the Royal Palace. Yet, even though the museum’s curators highly treasure and praise this set of watercolours, these Chinese artworks—the only ones in the palace’s collections—are kept almost hidden in a back room accessible through a small hall off the main visiting route. As the public walks along a corridor, they go by the hall but there is nothing at the door to suggest the presence of the Chinese watercolours inside. Moreover, these side‫ޤ‬rooms are usually cordoned off, though researchers are allowed access beyond the barrier, accompanied by a member of staff. Thus, this Chinese element remains mostly invisible and stranger in an environment where the sumptuous, original decorations and ornaments that tell the history of the palace and give a strong character to it are the main focus of attention. Particularly striking in these circumstances of cineserie absorbed and concealed in the predominant local cultural texture is the case of the Museum of Capodimonte. Among the rich collections of works of art by renowned Italian artists of all times, some chinoiserie and Chinese objects are also on display. Walking through the royal apartment on the first floor,

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embellished with neoclassical decorations, paintings by Titian (1490‫ޤ‬1576), monumental mirrors with frames of locally produced porcelain and ornamental chandeliers made of Murano glass, the visitors encounter two consecutive rooms with chinoiserie furniture and an elegant Chinese sedan‫ޤ‬chair. A cabinet in a recess at one end of a long corridor also contains a group of Chinese porcelain. Yet, the main display of cineserie is in the only room open to the public along this same passage. Cordoned off and constantly guarded by a member of staff sitting in the corridor just in front of the room, the Salottino di Porcellana (Porcelain Boudoir) is a unique and internationally famous example of chinoiserie, product of local artists and craftsmen. Thousands of porcelain plaques reproducing fanciful Chinese scenes, figures and ornaments entirely cover the walls. These sophisticated decorations were originally commissioned by king Carlo of Bourbon in 1757 and manufactured at the Real Fabbrica di Porcellana (Royal Porcelain Factory) of Capodimonte in 1759 for a room at the Royal Palace of Portici, near Naples. They were then moved and re‫ޤ‬mounted at the palace of Capodimonte in 1866. As the visitors turn their gaze towards the room and, in bewilderment, stretch out the head over the cord for a closer look, they express comments of astonishment. Some of them talked to me when, as a researcher, I was allowed inside the room. Besides the appreciation of the craftsmanship, their observations clearly showed that the porcelain images still had the power to bring forth ideas of China between past and present. The travels of Marco Polo, well‫ޤ‬known Chinese customs and traditions, the “China towns” around the world and the Chinese communities now also in Italy were some of the topics that cropped up in the brief conversations. A couple from San Francisco even stated with enthusiasm that for them the Salottino was “the highlight of the exhibition”. I also had a fruitful exchange of views with the curator Paola Giusti, who was very helpful in providing information and bibliographical materials about this masterpiece of Neapolitan chinoiserie. However, the general interest in the Porcelain Boudoir is not supported by sufficient publicity. Even in the museum’s catalogue there is only a short description of it and in the museum’s shop, while publications and paraphernalia on other parts of the collection are numerous, nothing can be found on the Salottino. Once again, the weight of features more conventionally connected to the museum’s image overwhelms more exotic artistic manifestations. As a result, on the one side, the general public may be taken by surprise finding this unexpected element in the particular settings of the Museum of Capodimonte. On the other side, art scholars who are well aware of the relevance of the Porcelain Boudoir in the context of European chinoiserie find this situation frustrating. In a number of

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circumstances, in fact, I have witnessed complaints and regrets by experts, such as the Director of the Dresden State Art Collections and the Curator of Chinese Art at the Ferenc Hopp Museum of Eastern Asiatic Arts in Budapest. As they admitted to me, they are still longing to see in person the masterpiece of Neapolitan chinoiserie, after failing to have access to it on more than one occasion.

Emerging cineserie The function and position of cineserie changes from subordinated to significant in the last set of examples that I consider. It has, in fact, emerged from my investigation that the institutions located in areas not on the main routes of cultural tourism find in their cineserie a strategic element of distinction useful for promotional purposes. At the Galleria Spinola, a collection of Chinese porcelain is displayed to complement the palace’s original seventeenth‫ ޤ‬and eighteenth‫ޤ‬century furniture and decorations. The bigger, more impressive vases are spread across the main exhibition on the first and second floors. Particular care has been taken in the efficacy of the placement of these items. They stand out especially in relevant spaces, such as the drawing rooms and dining room. Where possible, they are even positioned in a way so to be visible through the openings between adjacent rooms. The assistant curator who guided me also drew my attention to the smaller specimens—mainly dinner sets and coffee sets collected and used by the Spinola family—all grouped in a room on the third floor, next to another space allocated to ceramics of local manufacture and of other provenance. The scheme adopted to harmoniously include these objects in different thematic sections, and the subtle emphasis cast on them lend a singular, yet discreet aura of prestige to the whole Chinese porcelain collection. The integration of these exotic features in the more local character of the rest of the collections is part of the ongoing projects aiming at enhancing the profile of the Spinola Palace in Genoa’s museum network. The presence of a Chinese element is also highlighted at the royal residence of Racconigi. Besides some Chinese porcelain vases displayed in various areas, the main cineserie are in‫ޤ‬built in the structure of the palace. As a matter of fact, the so‫ޤ‬called “Chinese apartment” occupies the right wing on the first floor. Designed in mid‫ޤ‬eighteenth century— following the fashion of the time—with Chinese and local chinoiserie ornamentation, its long‫ޤ‬lasting importance is signalled by the fact that it was reserved to accommodate special guests. These included the Tsar Nicholas II of Russia (1968‫ޤ‬1918), who stayed here in 1909 during an

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official visit to Italy. This group of six rooms is always part of the palace’s guided tours, even if the three smaller rooms are shown only by request. Nowadays, many of the original objects are not in place any more. However, the museum guides usually stop in this wing for some minutes and dwell on the history of the apartment, on the anecdotes linked to it, on its illustrious guests, and on the peculiar feature of the Chinese wallpapers. The latter, bought in London in 1756, cover most of the surface of the walls. Having been restored, they are in an excellent state of conservation and give to the rooms a particularly lively atmosphere, with their colourful and animated scenes of Chinese daily life and occupations in somewhat stylised Chinese settings. As I was told by one of my guides, the Chinese wallpapers rouse particular admiration and wonder among the visitors. They thus contribute to make the experience of the palace’s tour a special one to remember. Cineserie are regarded as an important component of the museum’s collections also at the Royal Palace of Turin. The assistant curator stated in our conversation that it would be worthwhile to exhibit more of the Chinese and chinoiserie artefacts stored in the museum repositories. At the time of my visit, some of these objects had to be removed because of the risk of being damaged during the restoration works. Nevertheless, this part of the collection was still represented throughout the visiting route with various specimens of Chinese porcelain and pieces of furniture, as well as chinoiserie tapestry of French manufacture and local lacquerware displayed in nearly every room. Most significantly, the visit to the Royal Apartment is planned to culminate in the Salottino Cinese, a small room decorated with locally produced chinoiserie lacquered panels inspired by the Chinese ones also present in this space. These were all arranged by the famous architect Filippo Juvarra (1678‫ޤ‬1736). The location of the room makes it possible to see the peculiar decorations through an opening— purposely kept wide‫ޤ‬open, yet barred—connecting to another wing of the palace that now houses the Museum of the Royal Armoury. While I was there, I could observe the reactions of the visitors on the other side, who were not allowed access to the room but stood for minutes at the door to contemplate the special interior design. They were making comments of admiration on the exotic lacquerware, as well as reflecting on Chinese ancient culture and artistic achievements.

Conclusion The analysis of the case studies presented in this chapter has been guided by the assumption that the practices of presenting and gazing at objects of

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the Other heavily rely on the pivotal role of synaesthetic experience in connecting the objects themselves and the environment in which they are exhibited. In particular, I have looked at representations of ideas of China in museum collections bearing in mind that—as Barbara Stafford (1997: 40) stresses—“information cannot be separated from the manner or style of its display”. Before starting to consider the specific circumstances of the collections under investigation, it has been necessary to understand how and why the mode of displaying in Italian museums has evolved into the various contemporary conditions I have witnessed during my studies. For this purpose, first of all, I retraced—as shown in the initial part of this chapter—the main steps in the history of the concept and structure of museum and the tradition of museum display in Italy. This has helped to clarify the circumstances that have led to a situation peculiar to the Italian historico‫ޤ‬cultural context. In other words, the presence of a well‫ޤ‬established model from a very early time has made it difficult to overcome some old criteria of presenting collections as part of a somewhat elitist, selective experience of recreation and intellectual enrichment. The heavy burden of a memorable past has constricted many museums in a state whereby innovations and responses to socio‫ޤ‬cultural changes happen very slowly. For this reason, some of the examples I illustrated, such as the Museum of Oriental Art in Venice and the museum at Capodimonte, may appear as enclosed institutions with an out‫ޤ‬of‫ޤ‬date approach to objects and public. Yet, it should be noticed that the situation is not static, as there are signs of ongoing—though cautious—efforts of renewal. In the last few years more didactic activities and thematic events for the public have been organised and now all the museums I have considered have set up their own websites—in different stages of development—including information on the premises and the collections, programme of initiatives, and virtual tours. The direct comparison of my case studies also highlights an unequivocal differentiation, as far as the organisation, character and role of each museum are concerned. This diverse scenario is a legacy of a specific phase in the process of formation of public museums after the national unification. As it has been discussed, the tension between centripetal, homogenising forces and local, parochial resistance conditioned the identity of museums. The politicised connotation of these institutions, strongly felt for a long period in the turbulent, unstable political history of the young Italian nation, has gradually become less evident in the constitution of new museums. However, these circumstances have left a certain imprint in the

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way in which museums present themselves to the public. There are instances such as the Royal Palace in Turin, where, imbedded in the museum’s image, there is a set of historical national values. Cases like Ca’ Rezzonico in Venice tend instead to emphasise elements of locality. In addition to this distinction, some of my informants lamented the existence of an arbitrary tradition that seems to distinguish between geographical areas of primary relevance in the Italian cultural heritage and those of secondary cultural and artistic weight in the overall national picture. These circumstances possibly contribute to concentrate the attention of the tourist trade on well‫ޤ‬known cultural resources in places like Rome and Venice, at the expenses of less publicised destinations, for example, in Turin and Genoa. As a consequence of this fragmentation, different types of museums interact in different ways with their surroundings. In particular, my Italian instances show how fluid the exchange between the museum and the territory in which it sits is and to what extent this relationship affects the image of the museum itself. In my case studies, the boundaries between the “museum society”, inside museums, and the “current society”, outside museums, suggested by Edvina Taborsky (1990: 66‫ޤ‬67) are generally blurred. This is so much so that I have been able to observe how the lack of public visibility is usually connected to poor conditions of physical visibility, either because of a secluded location, like for the Duca di Martina Museum in Naples, or because of the proximity of much more popular attractions, as in the instance of the Tucci Museum in Rome. In cases such as that of the castle at Racconigi, instead, the local popularity supported by a central position in the urban design, encounters obstacles in reaching too far out because of a location peripheral to major centres. Differently, full public visibility is favoured when a prominent position, like that of Ca’ Rezzonico on the Grand Canal, is occupied in a main area. In this regard, it is necessary to point out that my analysis of the physical correlation between museum and territory is meant to be considered in conjunction with the fundamental socio‫ޤ‬cultural factors that intervene in the relationship between the museum and its environment, as previously emphasised in this chapter. In particular, it has emerged that the museums focusing on local artistic production and having strong ties with local history usually receive more attention. In such complex circumstances, it is not surprising that for cineserie, objects already peculiar per se on the Italian scene, it is difficult to achieve a satisfactory degree of integration and to find a place of relevance among other collections. The unavoidable association of space and time dimensions in the re‫ޤ‬contextualisation of these artefacts—as well as for

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any other specimen—in museums makes things even more complicated. We then face a situation, described by George W. Stocking (1985: 4) as paradoxical, whereby objects are preserved as being without time and out of history, whereas, in reality, they retain their past before re‫ޤ‬contextualisation and, at the same time, are historically involved in the processes that link them to a collection. In the case of cineserie in Italian museums, this ambivalence translates itself not only in the presentation and function of these artefacts within a certain display, but also in the transmission of the image of the Chinese Other that the artefacts embody. In specialised displays where Chinese art occupies a significant, large part of the collections, the purposes of the arrangement are primarily two. In the Chinese section of the Tucci Museum, the curators create a mainly chronological narrative of the history of China through specimens of its material culture. Alternatively, the instance of the National Museum of Ceramics proposes the classification and technological evolution of specific Chinese artistic products. The didactic presentation of a correct set of data suggests an idea of China as a reality far away in space and in a past time. The overall result is in a sense of detachment between the observing Self and the observed Other, and in an emphasis on cultural distance and difference. When Chinese objects are included as minor parts of important and well‫ޤ‬established collections of local arts and crafts, they find themselves overwhelmed by the other artefacts. Therefore, through them, China is just a vaguely discernible exotic element only used in the background as an aesthetic complement, or displayed separately in order not to disturb the thematic sequence of the visiting route. If in these contexts, such as at Ca’ Rezzonico, local chinoiserie are also present, the latter then tend to prevail on the Chinese artefacts and signs of exchange and influence are absorbed in the local artistic expressions. Chinese objects are instead much more directly involved in the agency of collections when they become determinant parts in the consolidation of the public identity of emerging museums. Chinese customs and traditions come to the fore as visitors admire, for example, the Chinese wallpapers at Racconigi. Likewise, the products of Chinese craftsmen are among the protagonists in the reconstructions of the daily life of wealthy eighteenth‫ ޤ‬and nineteenth‫ޤ‬century Genoese families in the display of porcelain in the dining room of Spinola Palace. China appears as a source of inspiration in the Chinese room of the Royal Palace of Turin, where the Chinese and Piedmontese lacquered panels harmoniously complement each other.

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The examples presented in this chapter have most of all highlighted the generally precarious circumstances of cineserie in Italian permanent displays, their inextricable association with the exhibitive settings and the constraints that they encounter in their function of suggesting ideas of China in these contexts. In this regard, it is worth noticing that the museums’ effort to provide through the objects exhibited a consistent, instructive representation of a clear Chinese cultural identity comes across as, overall, weak. Because of the peculiar backgrounds in the histories of these Italian museums—as illustrated so far—even in the cases where more space and attention are allowed to the cineserie specimens, the criteria and manners of the displays seem to reflect a certain preoccupation to search for a sense of local identity while presenting a cultural Other. This comparative assessment has made it possible to clarify the essential characteristics of permanent displays of cineserie in Italian museums. Yet, for a complete picture of the situation nowadays, it is still necessary to define the peculiarities of the parallel reality of temporary displays of cineserie in recent years. This will be the topic of the next chapter.

CHAPTER THREE CINESERIE IN ITALIAN DISPLAYS: TOWARDS NEW INTERACTIONS OF CULTURAL IDENTITIES. PART II: TEMPORARY EXHIBITIONS

Introduction The previous chapter has highlighted how the placement and function of cineserie in Italian permanent displays and the representations of China proposed through these objects in different museum contexts are considerably affected by a number of interlinked factors. These can be briefly summarised as: the degree of harmonisation with the environment and the rest of the display, the museum’s official policy and agenda, and the availability of space, staff and funds. It has been noticed that in some cases, a certain re‫ޤ‬conception of the museum as “a site for the enunciation of plural and differentiated statements”, and “an instrument for public debate” (Bennett 1995: 100) is taking place. However, cineserie appear in general still constrained by the limitations of Italian institutions where rigid statements are “framed within ... the official voice of the museum” (Bennett 1995: 104) itself. The repercussions of curators’ personal specialist competences and interests also stand out as particularly determinant on the way these peculiar items are considered and treated. This is a significant point to stress especially in the light of the fact that, besides the instances of the museums of oriental art, Chinese works of art and cineserie are usually included in broader collections mainly focused on local themes. This means that they are taken care of by curators with a western art history background and no specific expertise on Chinese art. It is only on the occasion of special projects and circumstances—such as the already‫ޤ‬mentioned refurbishment of the oriental section at the Duca di Martina Museum—that the help of specialists in the sector is sought. In other words, from the examples presented it has become clear that cineserie struggle to emerge as autonomous and authoritative components

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of collections in the Italian reality, where museums are only slowly able to adapt themselves to the fast‫ޤ‬changing cultural requirements of modern communities and find it difficult to “embody and shape public perceptions of what is valuable and important at each period of their existence” (Pearce 1992: 89). A radically different situation can be observed, instead, as I turn to consider cineserie in temporary exhibitions. At this point, before treating in detail the issue of the features of the Italian case, some introductory remarks on the characteristics of temporary displays in general are needed to give a precise framework to the discussion. Theoretical textbooks for museum professionals clearly categorise exhibition modes. Thus, in today’s museum contexts, permanent exhibitions—as Michael Belcher (1991: 44, 47) explains—have come to be recognised as “intended long‫ޤ‬term exhibitions” with “a minimum life of about ten years”, while temporary exhibitions are defined as “short‫ޤ‬term”, set to last up to two months, “medium‫ޤ‬term”, running between three and six months, and “long‫ޤ‬term”, in the more rare cases when the time‫ޤ‬span of the display is uncertain, “pending further developments”. Apart from the distinction in duration, other fundamental differences between permanent and temporary exhibitions cannot be overlooked. Belcher (1991: 44, 47‫ޤ‬48) effectively points out that “aims and objectives”, “effect”, “approach” and “methods of presentation” may vary considerably and must be taken into account when organising exhibitions in different modes. However, when presenting case studies in texts that focus on the communication and representation functions of museum displays, the distinctive characteristics of permanent and temporary exhibitions are not always explicitly emphasised. In his introduction to a collection of papers on “Culture and representation”, Ivan Karp (1991: 11) refers to “exhibition” as a general term and does not include the variations of permanent and temporary modes among the elements “that affect exhibiting and museum practices”. Similarly, the essays in a volume on the use of text in relation to the objects displayed, edited by Gaynor Kavanagh (1991), fail to specify whether and how written messages should be conveyed differently depending on the mode of the exhibition. In contrast with this approach, Mary Bouquet (1999: 177‫ޤ‬192) makes the distinction between modes evident, as she addresses in particular the techniques of making temporary exhibitions. In a later revised edition of her article published in 1999, she reiterates this point, stressing once again that temporary exhibitions are acquiring an increasingly important role in the changing policies of museums (Bouquet 2001: 178). The latter—she continues—are shifting

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their attention from the issues of preservation and care of their collections towards the need to organise always new and appealing displays with a life‫ޤ‬span of a few months, in order to attract larger numbers of visitors of all provenances and from all backgrounds. Bouquet’s remarks well sum up the specificity of temporary exhibitions from both a museological and an anthropological point of view. The necessity to take into account and highlight this specificity has made itself felt more and more urgently while examining and comparing the instances of my own fieldwork. The Italian case of cineserie in temporary displays has revealed itself as a peculiar reality in this respect. In the Italian museum machine, particularly slow‫ޤ‬moving, attached to its roots and traditions, resisting change and innovation, temporary exhibitions have a substantial advantage over permanent ones in terms of flexibility, adaptation to contemporary cultural developments, creativity and originality. Under such circumstances, the observation by Enid Schildkrout (1999: 6)—as she discusses displays of African art in the United States—is all the more appropriate: “... not all museum installations can change at the same time, and we have to take the opportunities offered by temporary exhibitions to shift the debate”. With information and ideas circulated, updated and modified faster than ever, the dialectical exchange of temporary displays in Italy has intensified and accelerated in these first years of the twenty‫ޤ‬first century. The 1980s’ tendency of Italian museum professionals to consider temporary exhibitions subordinated, of secondary importance and of limited audience outreach in relation to permanent exhibitions (Pinna 1989 [1980]: 90) has now become outdated. As I have been able to ascertain from the characteristics of the temporary exhibitions I have examined for my research and as it will become evident in this chapter, each event aims at leaving a unique mark and at bettering other events not only in the exclusivity of the objects, but also in the exceptionality of the display effects and techniques. As a consequence of this disposition, the focus of the attention of the organisers appears to be focused not primarily on the size of the exhibition and not even on the number of visitors, but rather the impact on the public. Therefore, the debate underway among curators in the United Kingdom on whether it is more appropriate and useful to give priority to museums’ permanent collections or big blockbuster exhibitions—as highlighted in a brief forum in the May 2008 issue of Museums Journal37—does not seem to touch the Italian museum community. At the moment, the latter is in fact more concerned with a broader analysis of the typology of exhibitive techniques and philosophies in relation to the

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impact that museum displays in general have on the public (Pinna 2000: 4‫ޤ‬7). Italian museum professionals are consequently engaged chiefly in the production of temporary exhibitions that instead of emphasising big proportions, concentrate on the continuous renewal of experiences and thematic proposals, trying to respond to demands of contemporary audiences and, at the same time, to attract visitors towards more unusual, less known topics. This is what Fabrizio Federici suggests in his recent contribution to the online forum Osservatorio Mostre e Musei, directed by the Interdisciplinary Research Centre for the management of cultural resources at the prestigious university of Pisa Scuola Normale Superiore.38 The general trends and features of temporary exhibitions in Italy appear reflected in the criteria of short‫ޤ‬term displays of cineserie. However, given the particular nature of the objects, these displays also bear their own peculiarities. What has become evident from my observations is the fact that in most cases the premises for such exhibitions—usually lasting three or four months—do not take place at venues where permanent collections of cineserie are usually housed. In the majority of the cases taken into consideration, the displays have been arranged in historical palaces or other museum spaces specifically employed for periodical events and activities of this kind. In fact, only on three exceptional occasions—as it will emerge below—the displays included specimens from the in‫ޤ‬house collections. I suggest that various reasons account for these logistical choices. As it has already been discussed in the previous chapter, collections of Chinese artefacts and chinoiserie are sometimes kept in confined spaces not suitable to be re‫ޤ‬arranged for the purposes of temporary exhibitions. In other instances, the role of these objects in the overall context of the museum’s collections is not prominent enough to inspire themed short‫ޤ‬term displays. Furthermore, the generally tight budgets of smaller museum institutions do not allow investing in costly periodical events, unless special circumstances require such an effort. It is thus easier and more straightforward to organise temporary exhibitions in neutral settings and more adequate structures with the combined financial support of local and governmental authorities as well as private sponsors. The extra funding is made more readily available if the objects are borrowed from Chinese collections as part of cultural exchange programmes or in promotion of cooperative projects between Italy and China. As far as the organisation and arrangement of Chinese themed exhibitions are concerned, the personal input and mark of curators is particularly noticeable. While permanent displays are substantially dependent on the comprehensive policies and practices of each individual

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institution, which give only limited decisional freedom to the curators, a significantly different situation can be recognised in temporary displays of cineserie. These, in fact, tend to be by and large detached and unconstrained from the structures that host them and from other collections that may happen to be displayed on the same premises. Only under some circumstances, as it will emerge later in this chapter, a link is established between temporary exhibits and the place where they are located in order to recall in an allusive way certain historico‫ޤ‬cultural connections relating the Chinese theme of the exhibition to the local surroundings. Moreover, the curators of such one‫ޤ‬off projects are not usually part of the museum staff, but are rather external experts—either academics, or independent scholars, or even artists—eager to leave their distinctive signature on a specific event. The considerations outlined above refer to elements that are shared— though to a different extent—by all the temporary exhibitions of cineserie that I have analysed. Yet, after acknowledging the common features, it is now necessary to move on to highlight the distinguishing features of the various displays. It is especially through the different modes and techniques by which the objects are presented that it is possible to detect variations and developments in the approach towards cultural representations of China in the context of this Italian case. The variety of representations is indicative of Italy’s gradual implementation of an innovative dialogue with China. As this country acquires an increasingly prominent position on the international stage, in economic as well as cultural matters, and its presence is felt more and more in the daily life of Italian society—and similarly in other European countries—the need emerges to promote knowledge and understanding of the Chinese Other. This contemporary phenomenon seems to explain the blossoming of temporary exhibitions on Chinese artistic and cultural themes in Italy during the first years of the twenty‫ޤ‬first century. The examination of these events—especially as far as the planning and the arrangement are concerned—provides an insight into Italy’s re‫ޤ‬shaping of relational balances and re‫ޤ‬invention of forms of cultural interaction with China.

Intercultural communication between Italy and China in the twentieth century: paving the way towards the exhibitions of the twenty‫ޤ‬first century The ways in which temporary displays of Chinese themes undergo changes and adaptations appear to proceed hand in hand with the evolution of the diplomatic, economic and cultural relationship between Italy and

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China. This is also what emerges from the June‫ޤ‬2004 report on “Cultural exchange between China and Italy” provided by the embassy of the People’s Republic China in Rome on its website. These web‫ޤ‬pages, besides stressing the main stages of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian cultural engagement in the twentieth century and up to the present, also list the most important artistic events, including some major Chinese exhibitions in Italy, organised in this same period as a result of such diplomatic efforts.39 In this document, it is also specified that the exchange of public cultural initiatives between the two countries started in the 1950s. The first steps towards the revitalisation of the ancient tradition of cultural contacts between Italy and China were accompanied and were made even more meaningful by the Mostra d’arte cinese (Exhibition of Chinese Art) held in Venice in 1954 on the occasion of the 700th anniversary of the birth of Marco Polo (1254‫ޤ‬1324/5). This was an event of considerable proportions and international relevance, since it put on display 951 objects borrowed from numerous important collections of Chinese art not only in Italy, but also in the rest of Europe and in the United States. Besides having a great public impact, the exhibition also presented an innovative perspective that stood as a turning point in the way Italy used to look at China and, at the same time, set an example for other countries, too. As a matter of fact, on the one hand, the immediate purpose was to celebrate the famous Venetian merchant who in the Middle Ages travelled to the Far East and lived there for many years, as well as to pay tribute to his essential contribution to Westerners’ knowledge of China through his widely‫ޤ‬circulated account. On the other hand, in his “Introduction to the exhibition”, Jean‫ޤ‬Pierre Dubosc (1954: 6), editor of the catalogue, points out that an important aim of the display was “to show some aspects of Chinese art that, in the light of recent studies, deserve to be brought to the attention of the public”. In other words, the attempt had been made to overcome the limitations of a vague notion of Chinese art and civilisation mainly guided by western canons of appreciation and to support a more comprehensive and systematic consideration of Chinese culture. Following the difficult and reduced diplomatic contacts between China and western countries during the years of the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and the 1970s, the discourse initiated by the exhibition in Venice did not have the opportunity to be followed up and further developed. However, as a consequence of a new, more open foreign policy adopted by China, in line with the internal political changes after the death of Chairman Mao in 1976, Chinese and Italian authorities underwrote an official agreement of cultural cooperation in 1978. This was a milestone

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measure that in Italy paved the way to a new period of regenerated popular and scholarly interest in Chinese history and culture. This renewed tendency culminated in 1983 in the exhibition 7000 anni di Cina. Arte e archeologia dal Neolitico alla Dinastia Han (7000 Years of Chinese Civilisation. Chinese Art and Archaeology from the Neolithic Period to the Han Dynasty) housed once again in Venice, in the Doge’s Palace. Maurizio Scarpari, lecturer of Classical Chinese at the University of Venice and expert of Chinese archaeology and ancient history, was a member of the scientific committee for this exhibition and, while discussing with me the recent history of Chinese themed exhibitions in Italy, he indicated the 1983 event in particular as the beginning of a new phase in the Italians’ approach towards China. As Scarpari specified, this exhibition, featuring 105 objects dating from the seventh millennium BC to the first century BC lent by many Chinese provincial and regional museums, attracted a total of 600,000 visitors. According to my informant, this impressive turnout—a numerical record for a display of this kind in Italy—was accounted for by the public’s great curiosity about China at the time of the country’s initial signs of opening. Since the display covered 70 centuries of ancient Chinese history, the then Mayor of Venice Mario Rigo (1983: 7) highlighted the “powerful cultural implications” of the exhibition, describing the latter as “the most complete and organic survey of the emergence and formation of this formidable civilisation ever to be realised in the West”. He also pointed out that this initiative was only the first stage of an extensive project of cultural interaction through which Venice would have become established “as a permanent seat of cultural exchanges between China and the West” (Rigo 1983: 7). The developments anticipated by Rigo resulted in a second exhibition —Cina a Venezia. Dalla dinastia Han a Marco Polo (China in Venice. From the Han Dynasty to Marco Polo)—in the same venue, in 1986, which continued from the last period of Chinese history included in the 1983 display and illustrated, through 141 objects, historical and cultural developments in China from the first century AD to the thirteenth century. Reiterating the ideas and approach of the previous exhibition, the main message of this event focused on the overcoming of the traditional Eurocentric views: the organisers’ primary concern was that of communicating to an audience as wide as possible the high sophistication and the extraordinary achievements of a distant and different culture (Rigo 1986: 3). The above outline of the recent history of Italian temporary exhibitions on Chinese themes in Italy shows a pattern coherent with the parallel developments in the intercultural dialogue between Italy and

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China. Having clarified this ongoing process, it will become easier to understand the present‫ޤ‬day tension between traditional and innovative modes of exhibiting China in short‫ޤ‬term events in Italy. In particular, the case studies that I am going to illustrate are analysed taking into account how methods and choices of representing various aspects of Chinese arts and culture reflect different ways in which contemporary Italy itself relates to China. I therefore delineate some distinctions in this sense among the displays that I mention and describe some in more details than others. The displays, which have been taking place in the time‫ޤ‬span between the years 2001 and 2008, can be ascribed to three broad groups, according to the perception of the Chinese Other that they embody. Purely descriptive exhibitions that present a specific theme in a didactic and neutral tone transmit to the public an idea of China as a far‫ޤ‬away, detached reality. In different cases, the objects selected and the criteria by which they are displayed in relation to each other emphasise aspects of cooperation and dialogue, showing points of contact—of various types and in various contexts—between Italy and China. Other instances, instead, suggest, either as an indirect inference, or as an explicit message, that China has come much closer to contemporary Italy and its concrete, more definite presence is felt here and now in the Italian socio‫ޤ‬cultural settings. From my examples, however, it will be evident that the boundaries and distinctions between the manners of displaying China are often blurred. It is, in fact, a tendency of the organisers of recent exhibitions to make use of new technical features and to propose up‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬date interpretative angles in the presentation of ideas of China. This experimental and even competitive approach aims at keeping up with the fast pace of adjustments in intercultural relations within the Italian society.

From detached descriptions to the affirmation of interaction The first case of temporary exhibitions on Chinese themes I came across during my fieldwork was Quadretti cinesi nelle collezioni borboniche (Chinese Small Paintings in the Bourbon Collections). This is also the earliest of the events I consider, as it took place from 7th December 2001 to March 5, 2002. Hosted in the spacious room “Salone d’Ercole” at the Royal Palace of Naples, it presented to the public for the first time ever the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese export watercolours—already mentioned in the previous chapter—that had been accidentally discovered on the palace’s premises shortly before. On this occasion, these watercolours were reconnected with a complementary group of watercolours also

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originally part of the art collections of the Bourbon family and now kept at the Pitré Museum in Palermo. Thus, a total of 61 watercolour paintings were finally displayed all together, subdivided into four series, each representing in a sequence the various stages of typical Chinese productions, namely the manufacture of silk and porcelain and the cultivation of rice and tea. Such depictions were mass‫ޤ‬produced in Canton in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries on purpose for foreign merchants to take them back to Europe as souvenirs and illustrations of the traditions and daily life of the Chinese. Of not particularly outstanding artistic value, these watercolours had, in the past, a primarily descriptive function and it is in this same role that they were presented at the 2001 exhibition. Arranged in rows on one side of the big room, the display formed a self‫ޤ‬contained circuit. No connection or relation was created with the surrounding settings, despite the historical link with the rest of the Bourbon collections and despite the fact that after the exhibition the watercolours found in the palace would have been included in the permanent display. The sense of isolation of the watercolours, as they were representative of an unfamiliar, detached realm, was strengthened by the contrast between the brighter light of the display area and the scarcely lit rest of the room. This overall effect reflected the intentions of the two curators of the exhibition. On the one hand, as she herself stated, Lucia Caterina, academic expert of Chinese export art, aimed at emphasising the artistic peculiarities of a foreign, distant civilisation, so to divulge the knowledge of a specific aspect usually neglected by general public and scholars. On the other hand, Annalisa Porzio, art historian and curator at the museum of the Royal Palace, proudly commented on the success of the event in its didactic purpose. She described to me all the educational activities and guided tours organised for school children in conjunction with the exhibition and she showed me all the original explanatory panels providing details on the images and on the traditional Chinese productions depicted in the watercolours. While illustrating in an informative way some characteristics of Chinese culture, the organisation of the display and the accompanying texts still presented an old image of China as an exotic, idyllic, distant reality. It is on this impression that the reviewers of the exhibition drew in their comments. In a review published in the newspaper Secolo d’Italia, Valentina Antonelli (2002: 16) writes: China has always represented for us, Westerners, a far‫ޤ‬away, idealised world, characterised by all what in the eyes of the strangers evokes the world of the Orient, and determining was just that character of great

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The exhibition of watercolours at the Royal Palace of Naples recalls, in the way it used the objects to transmit a certain idea of China and in the message it intended to convey, the earlier Venetian exhibitions of Chinese art and archaeology already discussed in the previous section. By presenting some telling aspects of Chinese civilisation and highlighting the originality and sophistication of certain cultural features, it stresses distance and difference between the Italian cultural Self and the represented Other. However, this tendency to display China according to principles of distinction and separation is not recurrent in recent Italian temporary exhibitions. An element of contact or relation between Chinese culture and the host culture is established in most cases. The inclusion of varying forms and levels of connection has become a more and more consistent feature in the displays of the last few years. Clear signs of this approach can be already detected in the exhibition I tesori del Palazzo Imperiale di Shenyang (The Treasures of the Royal Palace at Shenyang) held in Stupingi, near Turin, in 1989‫ޤ‬1990 and presenting objects of the Qing (1644‫ޤ‬1911) imperial court on loan from the Museum of the Forbidden City in Beijing. The location, the hunting lodge of the Savoia family, offered in itself a link to the contents and theme of the exhibition, as the palace’s fine eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese wallpapers are well‫ޤ‬known to experts and general public. Furthermore, Susan Naquin (2004: 373‫ޤ‬374), commenting on this display and its catalogue, specifies: Some of the essays by local scholars made original use of historical connections between Italy and Qing China, and discussed such topics as Giuseppe Castiglione (the Italian Jesuit painter at the Qianlong court), the importation and imitation of Chinese textiles in Italy, and Chinese objects and Chinoiserie at the Court of Turin.

Naquin’s remarks are all the more significant as they make the Turin exhibition stand out, in this respect, among the displays of objects from the Forbidden City held in other countries around the same time. Manifestation of a general shift, especially in the 1990s, towards a greater consideration of the historical relevance of East‫ޤ‬West cultural exchange, the perspective proposed in the display of Stupingi has been echoed very recently in the exhibition Capolavori della Città Proibita. Qian Long e la sua corte (Masterpieces from the Forbidden City. Qianlong and His Court), which took place from November 20, 2007 to

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March 20, 2008 at the Museo del Corso in Rome. For this event, the scientific committee, composed of experts in Chinese studies from the universities of Venice and Rome, had chosen 300 objects from the collections of the Forbidden City to illustrate court life, rites and ceremonies, political history, philosophy, religion and arts of China under Emperor Qianlong (1711‫ޤ‬1799). At the same time, as a necessary complement to the theme of the exhibition, paintings attributed to Castiglione or to his school were also included to highlight the role of the Italian Jesuit in the artistic exchange at Qianlong’s court. As shown by the cases above, a reoccurring way to express the special points of contact between Italy and China is that of emphasising the cultural dialogue in which Italian Jesuits and Qing court artists and literati were involved. However, the most recurrent and celebrated example used to stress the long, unique tradition of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian connections is that of Marco Polo’s experience in Yuan‫ޤ‬dynasty China (1271‫ޤ‬1368). 40 This is often included as a significant reference or an underlying statement in exhibitions on various Chinese themes. Sometimes this topic becomes itself the central item of a display, in particular on special occasions. One of these was the 750th anniversary of the birth of Marco Polo, when, between the years 2004 and 2005, a number of initiatives were planned and put into place on a national level. A relevant project was that concerning a new publication of the worldwide‫ޤ‬famous account of Marco Polo’s journey to the Far East and long stay in China from 1271 to 1295. For this special edition, the text was accompanied by the illustrations purposely drawn by Emanuele Luzzati (1921‫ޤ‬2007), a renowned contemporary Italian artist. Based on this publication, the city of Venice celebrated the birth anniversary of its illustrious citizen with the exhibition Emanuele Luzzati —“Il Milione” di Marco Polo (Emanuele Luzzati—“The Travels” of Marco Polo)41: Luzzati’s original illustrations were displayed at the Correr Museum from 10th December 2005 to 2nd April 2006. The colourful plates were complemented by a variety of objects—mainly from the Museum’s own collections—linked to the vicissitudes of Marco Polo in the empire of China and to the ancient Venetian tradition of trade with the East. Maps, editions of Il Milione of different times and in different languages, nautical implements of Venetian medieval and Renaissance sailors, tools used by the travellers of the time along the Silk Road, ceramics and metal artefacts showing Venice’s contacts and exchanges with oriental cultures, all contributed to the narration of Marco Polo’s travels in the territories of and around China’s empire. Thus, the exhibition’s experience became

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comprehensive for the visitors, as illustrations, texts and objects completed each other. As it will become more evident in chapters five and six, the main statement behind the display was that of the essential role of Venice in the early interactions with China and the East at large. The special connection with the city was reinforced by the choice of the premises for the exhibition. As a matter of fact, arranged in the area usually dedicated to the history of Venetian civilisation, the display took place in an institution of crucial relevance in the history of Venice and of Italy in general. Opened to the public in 1836, the Correr Museum originated from the private collections that the Venetian aristocratic Teodoro Correr (1750‫ޤ‬1830) donated to the city before his death. Since 1922, the museum has been situated in the buildings of the so‫ޤ‬called Napoleonic Wing overlooking San Marco Square, at the very heart of Venice. The construction of the architectural complex had been planned and started under Napoleon’s short‫ޤ‬lived Kingdom of Italy (1806‫ޤ‬1814). The Palace was completed under the Austrian domination and frequently occupied by the Habsburgs at the time when Venice was—together with Milan—the capital of their Lombardo‫ޤ‬Veneto Kingdom (1815‫ޤ‬1866). Nowadays, the Correr Museum also hosts the administrative offices of the network of eleven civic museums, which was re‫ޤ‬organised in the 1990s. This new official function has thus accentuated even more the bond of this institution with the city. While in the cases presented so far the topical emphasis was on the special relations between Italy and China in the past, some other recent exhibitions have concentrated on highlighting various forms of interaction in the present. An instance in which these two approaches appear in combination is that of the exhibition Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli (Genghis Khan and the Treasure of the Mongols) in Treviso, a town very close to Venice. Open to the public from October 20, 2007 to May 4, 2008, this event was the second part of a programme of four exhibitions—to be held in Treviso once every other year from 2005 to 2011—illustrating the history of China. As the exhibition’s route chronologically followed the succession of dynasties from the Five Dynasties (907‫ޤ‬960) to the Yuan dynasty (1271‫ޤ‬1368), the last gallery was specifically arranged on the theme of “Marco Polo”. The display included objects suggestive of the Venetian’s experience in Yuan‫ޤ‬period China and the role of Italy in the commercial contacts between China and the West at that time. However, besides presenting this frequently reiterated aspect, Adriano Màdaro curator of the exhibition and expert of Chinese history and culture, was particularly eager to give

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prominence to the interaction between China and Italy nowadays rather than to the contacts in ancient times. As he explained to me the planning of the exhibition, he strongly underlined the collaboration with the Italy‫ޤ‬China Foundation and the essential assistance of the Chinese Academy of International Culture. In this regard, he pointed out his own important function as mediator, thanks to his position as Member of the Permanent High Committee of this cultural institution in Beijing. In fact, he mentioned as a great achievement not only on a personal level, but also on the level of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian relations, the fact that the Academy had nominated and accepted an Italian intellectual to take on the responsibilities for cultural affairs outside China. The idea of the fruitful contemporary developments of cultural cooperation between Italy and China was central also in the exhibition Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille (Tang. Art and Culture in China before Year One Thousand A. D.) held at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale (National Archaeological Museum) of Naples from 16th December 2005 to 22nd April 2006. This project, promoted by the Italian central and regional bureaux for cultural resource management, was the result of the cultural exchange and the joined efforts of Italian and Chinese scholars and institutions. Lucia Caterina, the principal curator, repeatedly stressed the element of cooperation both in a private conversation with me and during one of her public introductory talks, in which I also took part. She explained that the display was part of a bilateral programme that in June 2004 gave life to a travelling exhibition in China about the ancient Roman civilisation, which included objects from Neapolitan museums as well. She further described how in the spacious “Salone della Meridiana” hosting the Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty (618‫ޤ‬907) exhibition, the findings of the Sino‫ޤ‬Italian archaeological excavations carried out at the Fengxian Buddhist Temple in Luoyang between 1997 and 2003 stood out among other specimens. The rest of the display also highlighted in general the theme of intercultural dialogue, with artefacts bearing elements of assimilation and adaptation from other artistic traditions as an effect of cosmopolitanism and openness of international relations in Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty China. Concepts of cultural exchange, appropriation, and re‫ޤ‬elaboration were variously recalled throughout the display and were finally echoed once again with a peculiar manifestation during an event organised to mark the closure of the exhibition. After a public talk, the audience was invited to gather on the museum’s ground floor at the bottom of the staircase. Eight Neapolitan girls dressed in a Chinese‫ޤ‬style robe with a red top and white trousers took their place on the stairs and started a silent dance based on

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the rhythmic movements of Chinese martial arts. They, then, slowly proceeded up the stairs towards the exhibition hall on the first floor, inviting the spectators to follow them. Once inside the hall, the girls continued their dance, this time on the notes of some Chinese traditional motifs. Moving through the various sections of the exhibition, they guided the public to the discovery of the objects displayed. Gradually the dancers reached a space at the centre of the hall, where they concluded their performance. After the dance, which in total lasted just over half an hour, the audience was split into two groups that were given a guided tour of the exhibition. The inclusion of the dance in this event added to the visit a special dimension that allowed the display to be perceived as manifold experience. In this type of combination, which Lena Hammergren (1997: 93‫ޤ‬97) explains with the concept of “interart”, a synaesthetic relation is created between objects, dancers and viewers and is dynamically articulated in the space. In the case described here, the dance becomes an object of art in motion, while the display of objects features as a static performance. In its turn, the public is encouraged to actively participate in both forms of performative arts and to become aware of both types of representations by physically engaging with them through their bodies’ movement in space. Hence, introduced first to an idea of China by means of motifs appropriated and re‫ޤ‬elaborated by the Neapolitan dancers, the viewers were then put into more direct contact with an idea of China embodied by the Chinese objects themselves. These, on the one hand, created a link with the cultural traits of a specific Chinese cultural entity in the past. On the other hand, they allowed a relation with a Chinese entity in the present to be established through the actuality of their interaction in the mental and physical experience of the viewers and in the scientific and academic cooperative research of scholars. In particular, this latter aspect could be noticed during the guided tour after the dance. As I followed the group guided by Lucia Caterina herself, I observed that her explanations on the architecture, painting, courtly life and funerary rites of Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty China triggered as a response from the curious audience numerous questions about customs and way of life in contemporary China. The people in the group were especially interested in Professor Caterina’s accounts of her personal experience of Chinese life and social interaction as well as in her comments on the changes in Chinese modern culture. The open discussion led to the suggestion of a number of comparisons concerning attitudes, behaviours and popular traditions all along the visiting route. The active participation of the visitors during the guided tour and their direct engagement, as they shared the impressions brought

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on by the objects displayed, favoured a spontaneous process by which the Chinese past represented by the artefacts was merged into present circumstances. In the public’s imagination, this allowed to close the temporal and spatial distance between them and the cultural reality exhibited and to relate the Self and the Other more immediately. In this respect, a peculiar feature particularly attracted the public. Half way through the display, Caterina drew the group’s attention towards a row of twelve terracotta statues, each representing one of the signs of the Chinese zodiac. As the exhibition’s curator herself pointed out, these had been purposely placed in correspondence with the twelve signs of the western zodiac traced on the floor along the gilded line of the Meridian, from which the room takes its name. This physical connection between the objects and the space in which they were presented was thus emblematic of the overall message proposed by the exhibition in all the aspects analysed above. As it has been observed, the displays just discussed offer elements of novelty in the traditional, more detached way of presenting China in Italian temporary exhibitions by highlighting phenomena of interaction and points of contact or comparison of various types and at different times. However, as it will be discussed below, another trend in exhibiting China, which has been developing in particular in the last few years, is inspired by a new perspective in the perception of Chinese reality.

Evocative representations: signs of a closer China Thanks to today’s fast and efficient means of communication, quick transmission of accurate information and increased people’s mobility, a more definite presence of China is felt to be closer, more tangible and immediate. Therefore, the didactic function of temporary exhibitions is not any more the only essential one to take into consideration. Likewise, the significance of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian intercultural dialogue and cooperation does not need to be explicitly asserted in the display, but it can emerge spontaneously from the project and realisation of the exhibition. This is the approach behind the planning of two types of temporary displays, both pioneering, though in different ways. Far from being merely descriptive, these exhibitions not only suggest impressions of China through the presentation of artefacts, but rather create evocative images and atmospheres. All characterised by a strongly distinguishable curatorial touch, these mainly differ in the cultural perspective according to which they are conceived and in the selection of themes and objects. To one type belong, in fact, those exhibitions that continue to choose materials from

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Chinese history of art and archaeology and to highlight the richness and sophistication of the ancient Chinese civilisation. However, they do so by taking care in presenting already more popular topics in original and innovative settings and arrangements that imbue the display of a distinctive Italian significance. Another type of exhibitions, instead, is part of a completely new phenomenon that has been emerging only very recently, in the last couple of years or so. The peculiar feature in these cases is the fact that displays about China present the works of Chinese contemporary artists and are curated by Chinese artists themselves. Among the exhibitions that I have taken into consideration for my research, two can be ascribed to the former type in this category. Cina. Nascita di un impero (China. Birth of an Empire) took place in the premises for temporary displays at the Scuderie del Quirinale in Rome, from September 22, 2006 to February 4, 2007. Curated by Lionello Lanciotti, Professor of Chinese Filology at the University of Naples, and Maurizio Scarpari, the exhibition adopted as central theme that of the rise of the Qin dynasty (221‫ޤ‬206 BC), the first and short‫ޤ‬lived imperial dynasty of China. In addition, the legacy of the previous Western and Eastern Zhou dynasty (1045‫ޤ‬771 BC; 770‫ޤ‬221 BC) as well as the flowering of the early Chinese empire under the Western Han dynasty (206‫ޤ‬23 AD), were also richly documented. The display thus included an extensive section of precious Zhou bronze vessels and a selection of unique Han specimens, such as a jade funerary dress. However, as Scarpari himself explained, “it was decided to place at the centre of the public’s attention the group of statues from the Terracotta Army of worldwide fame, excavated in Xi’an, on the site of the impressive burial of Qin Shi Huangdi, the first Qin emperor. These, in fact remain a strong cultural symbol in people’s ideas of China”. Besides emphasising the significance of the themes and the importance of the objects presented, the organisers aimed at making of this exhibition a special “made in Italy” product through the arrangement of the objects in the allocated space. This crucial task was assigned to Luca Ronconi, well‫ޤ‬known theatre and opera director. I did not have the opportunity to see the actual display personally, but Scarpari showed me a video of it, while he also illustrated the various choreographic features and their purpose. As he described these details, it emerged that the main aim of the arrangement was to create a quasi‫ޤ‬mystical and awe‫ޤ‬inspiring atmosphere. Such an emotionally involving experience for the visitors would suggest the atmosphere that one might have felt in the original context of the imperial burial, without reproducing the mausoleum itself. The dark space was illuminated only by soft lights. The objects were

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placed on platforms of various heights, in proportion to their size. Transparent veils were cascading on the objects from above, filtering the light and providing an impression of physical closeness and supernatural distance at the same time. Labelling was kept to a minimum, limited to explicative panels at the beginning of each section, in order not to disturb the suggestive environment. By means of these exhibitive devices, the effect created was one of withdrawal into a mystical and invisible world that was deliberately presented as a far cry from the pragmatic reality of a highly commercialised idea of contemporary China. In this type of exhibition, it becomes evident how, as Scarpari himself stated, “the aesthetic impact is almost as important as the objects”. It can be said, in fact, that the result is a bold statement on the part of the curators, who not only expose their scientific competence, but also take full responsibility for the presentation choices. Thus, this kind of approach lends itself to two opposite reactions. The “original arrangement” by Luca Ronconi is for instance praised as “a show within the show” [my translation] (Larcan 2006) in an exhibition review appeared in the 20th September 2006 issue of the national newspaper La Repubblica.42 On the other hand, when commenting on the display in Rome during our meeting, Adriano Màdaro criticised the arrangement as overpowering, so much that “the exhibition showed the objects without their personality, as they were almost hidden”. Yet, positive or negative response apart, what this experimental display highlights is the attempt to create an additional feature that characterises the specific settings, while stimulating a range of perceptions that complement those inspired by the objects themselves and complete the visiting experience. The concept at the base of the project carried out in the display of Cina. Nascita di un impero has been brought further and redeveloped in the exhibition Cina: alla corte degli imperatori. Capolavori mai visti dalla tradizione Han all’eleganza Tang (China: at the Court of the Emperors. Unknown Masterpieces from Han Tradition to Tang Elegance), open to the public from March 7, 2008 to June 8, 2008. The latter, hosted in the premises of Palazzo Strozzi, a quintessential manifestation of Florence’s Renaissance architecture, history and culture, was thematically conceived as the continuation of the display in Rome. It illustrated the achievements and technological developments of the artists and craftsmen in the time‫ޤ‬span between the Eastern Han dynasty (25‫ޤ‬220) and the Tang dynasty (618‫ޤ‬907). Furthermore, it emphasised the dynamic cultural flows among the numerous peoples that in different periods inhabited China over those nine centuries. The narrative was articulated through eight of the palace’s rooms usually allocated to temporary exhibitions. The variety of

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art works—from stone sculptures to ceramic figurines, from mural paintings to bronzes and silverwork—presented a number of socio‫ޤ‬cultural aspects. After summarising customs and daily activities of the Eastern Han in the first room, ample space was given, in the following three rooms, to the early development of Buddhism in China. The other topics treated in the subsequent rooms were related to funerary practices and beliefs, trade along the Silk Road, court life and, finally, the long‫ޤ‬established passion of the Chinese for the horses of the Central Asian steppes. Once again, the sign of distinction in the presentation of the objects was marked by the arrangement. As in the previous case, the scientific expertise of an academic committee guided by Sabrina Rastelli, lecturer of Chinese Art and Archaeology at the University of Venice, had teamed up with the creativity of an artist. Romeo Gigli, Italian fashion stylist of international fame, prepared stands and platforms with delicate sand tones and soft dune‫ޤ‬like effects, giving rise to a strongly evocative atmosphere. Gigli himself explained his choices and intentions in an interview for the Italian national newspaper Corriere della Sera published in the March 6, 2008 issue, just before the opening of the exhibition (de Micheli 2008: 56): First of all I wanted the inside of the building to be given back its original colour, soil‫ޤ‬sand. For me it was essential that Palazzo Strozzi would be appreciated as itself and not as container of an exhibition. In the same way, I reconstructed dunes of sand grains that recall the colour of soil in China in order to isolate the art works and elevate them to their own magnificence. This has not been a stylistic work but a work of imagination [my translation].

What also needs to be emphasised about Gigli’s involvement in the exhibition is his personal connection both with China—through his numerous journeys to and particular interest in the Far East—and with Florence, this being his hometown. His disposition was thus in line with the organisers’ intention to harmonise the host and guest cultures. This point was stressed in the brief introductions given by the main curator of the exhibition and James Bradburne, general director of Palazzo Strozzi Foundation, on the occasion of the opening ceremony. While presenting the theme of the display, they in fact pointed out the correspondence between the splendour and cultural dynamism of the Tang dynasty and those of Renaissance Florence. The relevance of this event in Florence’s scenario of cultural activities found recognition in the enthusiastic attendance of about one thousand people at the official preview and in the positive reviews in the

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press. In the Corriere della Sera, in the issue mentioned above, the journalist Wanda Lattes (2008: 56) comments: Whatever length of time the visitor has planned to see, understand the exhibition “China: at the Court of the Emperors”, eventually she/he will have to leave Palazzo Strozzi with regret. For this incursion in time, in space, in the culture of a far‫ޤ‬away world is really amazing [my translation].

In the March 2008 issue of Il Giornale dell’Arte, the art historian Gugliemo Gigliotti defines the event as a “great exhibition” [my translation] both for the objects presented and the arrangement of the display (2008: 24). The same article also highlights how in the spring season 2008 Chinese millennial history and culture would be the protagonists at Palazzo Strozzi in more than one respect. In fact, while China’s past was being represented by the exhibition Cina: alla corte degli imperatori, from March 21 to May 4, 2008 China’s present became the theme of another exhibition open to the public at the Centre of Contemporary Culture La Strozzina, in another wing of Palazzo Strozzi. In this unprecedented situation, more widely acknowledged and more often presented aspects of ancient China appeared alongside less recognised and less exposed elements of today’s China. Curated by three young artists all active in China—the Italian Davide Quadrio and the Chinese Li Zhenhua and Zhang Wei—Cina, Cina, Cina. Arte contemporanea cinese oltre il mercato globale (China, China, China. Contemporary Chinese Art beyond the Global Market) presented the work of 18 contemporary Chinese artists from Beijing, Shanghai and Canton. Besides the artistic value of these works, the display, divided in three sections, highlighted the artists’ attempts to represent local cultural identities unrestrained from the uniforming tendencies of globalisation. Through a multimedia installation purposely created for this exhibition, Davide Quadrio investigated the role of the artist in today’s ever‫ޤ‬changing Chinese society and in the cultural production of contemporary China. Zhang Wei used paintings, videos and technological compositions to investigate the individuality and subjectivity of Chinese artists, who nowadays have to deal with and depict in their works the increasingly complex and troubled Chinese reality. Li Zhenhua arranged in his section videos and installations that inspired a reflection on national and transnational identities, geopolitics, ethnicity and cultural relativism in the history of cultural relationships between Chinese and other peoples. As underlying symbol, he referred to the figure of Genghis Khan who, with his conquests across Asia and even into Europe, favoured pioneering

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cultural exchanges in the twelfth century. As the organisers themselves stated in presenting the exhibition, their aim was to “fill in a substantial gap of information on contemporary China avoiding the typical examples of aesthetic exoticism”. Such a project was, in fact, triggered by the call for a better understanding of a changing China in search of a new cultural identity. This need emerges while China’s contemporary artistic production is gaining great popularity in the global art market and the country as a whole is becoming more and more influential in the international economic and political balances. The programme of lectures and events in conjunction with the exhibition also touches upon another issue close to the socio‫ޤ‬cultural reality of the area around Florence. In this regard, it has to be pointed out that nearby Prato is the Italian town with the highest concentration of inhabitants with Chinese passports, where the Chinese population accounts for ten per cent of the total. Mostly employed in an underground, underpaid textile production sector, in recent years the Chinese minority has been held responsible by the indigenous population for the economic crisis in Prato, where the main supporting activities are traditionally based on the local textile manufacture. Thus, the sound installation Cartografia del mutamento urbano (Cartography of Urban Change) presented in the exhibition was among these initiatives aiming at promoting a cultural dialogue and overcoming the social tension through the explanation, for instance, of the numerous Chinese ideograms that have appeared in the urban environment in the form of graffiti, shop signs and advertising boards. As it has been illustrated, Cina, Cina, Cina well exemplifies a new typology of evocative display of China in Italy. However, this is not the only case of this kind so far, as other projects based on the same principles have already been realised. In Rome, the two exhibitions Pechino 2008: il tempo, gli animali, la storia. Un’opera di Huang Rui (Beijing 2008: Time, Animals, History. A Work by Huang Rui) and Cina XXI secolo. Arte fra identità e trasformazione (China 21st Century. Art between Identity and Transformation) have been running almost at the same time. Held from February 9, 2008 at the Museo delle Mura, the first display presented an installation purposely created by Huang Rui, one of China’s most famous contemporary artists. Originally scheduled to close on June 8 the exhibition was so successful that it was extended until November 23, 2008. This event gave Huang Rui not only the opportunity to present his work in Italy for the first time, but also the chance to propose his views on time and history as he sees them perceived and treated in Chinese tradition and in that of the ancient Romans. In a document produced to accompany

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the exhibition, the author himself explains the metaphors suggested through his installation.43 In particular, he points out how, inspired by the brick monuments of ancient Rome and reflecting on a certain correspondence in Beijing’s scenario, he used the brick itself as the main element and a rich symbol in his work of art. Dividing them in 38 groups, Huang Rui arranged as many bricks as the number of years from 221 BC, when the first Chinese empire was founded, to 2008. Each brick was inscribed with a year according to both the western and Chinese progressions. A stone statue of an animal of the Chinese zodiac was associated to each group. In this respect, two different ways of considering the passing of time are juxtaposed: the linear succession adopted in the West and the time cycles traditionally calculated in China. Besides this historical meaning of a temporal dimension constructed around two different mentalities and cultures, the installation also carries a strong sense of memory challenged by the opposition between tradition and continuity and modernity and change. Huang Rui expressed such a message by exclusively using bricks from the hutong of Beijing, the old, traditional residential neighbourhoods that are gradually being demolished to make space for new buildings, following an extensive project of urban modernisation and regeneration. All at least a hundred years old, dating back to the end of the Qing dynasty, the last imperial dynasty of China, the bricks are returned to life as part of a work of art. They can thus retain their own history and identity as witnesses of a specific phase in Chinese history, at the time when they are made disappear from the urban landscape of Beijing. What is peculiar of Huang Rui’s approach to the processes of becoming and perpetuation in history is the way in which he integrates the Chinese and Roman contexts not only through the brick as architectural feature, but also by means of literary references. As a matter of fact, in the document mentioned above, the artist specifies that a key to the reading of his installation can be found in the texts of ancient Chinese and Latin authors. More precisely, he reconciles the verses of the acclaimed Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty poet Li Bai (701‫ޤ‬762), charged with a Taoist significance: Man of today does not see the moon in ancient times, But the present moon has once shone upon the men of old.44

And a statement by the Roman Emperor and eminent Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius (121‫ޤ‬180) in his Meditations:

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Chapter Three He, who sees what now is, hath seen all that ever hath been from times everlasting, and that shall be to eternity;… (Meditations, Book VI, Chapter 37)45

While the display of Huang Rui’s installation offered to the visitors a glimpse that summarises the author’s perception of China’s past and present, and his comparison with the Roman counterpart, the exhibition Cina XXI secolo, open from February 19 to May 18, 2008, focused on the reflections of Chinese artists on the socio‫ޤ‬cultural changes in contemporary China. At Palazzo delle Esposizioni—a large exhibition area for interdisciplinary displays in Rome’s city centre—the curators Zhu Qi, critic of Chinese contemporary art, and Morgan Morris, expert in contemporary art, presented recent works of art produced by 17 of the most representative Chinese authors. As the curators themselves point out in the accompanying catalogue, (Qi and Morris 2008), the display’s main aim was to illustrate to the Italian public the trends of Chinese art in the last ten to fifteen years, in coincidence with the fast and dramatic urbanisation and economic development that the country is still undergoing today. In particular, the display emphasised the artists’ effort to mirror the sense of uneasiness of a society in rapid transformation that is trying to understand and redefine its new identity. The curators’ choice of artworks showed how this goal is pursued by means of a variety of artistic expressions, including painting, sculpture, videos, performance, installations and photography. Following the route of the exhibition, the public could emotionally take part in the different feelings and reactions of the Chinese towards the new social circumstances. A big oil painting on four canvases—two meters high and in total eight meters long—by Liu Xiaodong, for instance, transmitted the sense of helplessness experienced by the millions of people who have been displaced along the Yangtze River at different stages during the construction of the Three Gorges dam started in 1994. Watching the brief plot of two sailormen chasing a woman and carrying her across a pond in a boat in Yang Fudong’s video Lock again, the visitors could grasp the metaphor for the confusion and lostness of the young Chinese in a society where traditional values and culture are being challenged. A feeling of alienation on the other hand prevailed as the spectator stood in front of Weng Fen’s enlarged photographs of modern Chinese cities engulfed by sky scrapers. It is worth noticing how in these images the observer could get the impression of looking at the urban views through the eyes of the two girls—symbol of the young generations—shown from behind in the foreground. This particular effect exactly sums up the main purpose of the whole exhibition. In fact, as Walter Veltroni, the then mayor of Rome, explained in his

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presentation at the opening ceremony, this event provides a new crucial opportunity “to look at Chinese art with Chinese eyes, but from the West”. Moreover, allowing Chinese artists to “narrate” contemporary China to the Italian public, such a display follows in the footsteps of an increasing “wish to promote a dialogue between two different points of view”.

Conclusion The cases presented in this chapter have shown that temporary exhibitions with Chinese themes in Italy have undergone a faster evolution than that of the permanent displays, reflecting more closely the gradual transformations in Sino‫ޤ‬Italian relations. The intensification of official contacts between the two countries, the increasing presence of Chinese elements in the Italian socio‫ޤ‬cultural texture—through migration and trade—as well as the diffusion of better and quicker means of communication have all contributed to the changes in the way China is perceived and, consequently, represented. At the same time, it has also been highlighted that besides general phenomena, some more specific factors have influenced how Chinese exhibitions have evolved in Italy. On the one hand, the peculiar history of contacts between China and Italy and the historical comparisons traditionally drawn between the two countries, though re‫ޤ‬elaborated, remain a constant reference in most temporary displays. From the big exhibition of the 1950s in Venice to the recent Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli in Treviso, the legacy of Marco Polo is perpetuated, as far as the knowledge of China and the exchange with Italy are concerned. A certain correspondence between the civilisation of the Chinese empire and that of the Roman empire is proposed in cooperative projects, such as the one that led to the exhibition on ancient Rome in China in 2004 and, subsequently, to the exhibition on Tang dynasty in Naples in 2005‫ޤ‬2006. The same connection is echoed even in the more innovative display of Huang Rui’s installation at the Museo delle Mura in Rome. Likewise, cultural contacts favoured by the presence of Italian Jesuits at the Qing court are emphasised in the exhibition Capolavori della Città Proibita. Qian Long e la sua corte. What these exhibitions seem to suggest is that the association between Italy and China illustrated by means of specific historical circumstances is intended in itself as a timeless concept outliving the fall of empires. On the other hand, the latest trends of temporary displays in Italy have marked the shift towards a view of these events more as an aesthetic experience for the public than as a merely didactic exercise. This new approach seems to be in line with a re‫ޤ‬evaluation of the role of the visitor

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as an active participant in an exhibition. As the viewer looks enigmatically at an object, she/he—Michael Baxandall (1991: 38) observes—“moves with great vitality between visually pleasurable (or at least intriguing) objects and equally pleasurable cause finding”. Hence, in order to satisfactorily relate these two activities to one another, it is important to enhance the viewer’s chances to connect with the objects. Especially if these belong to a different culture and a direct link or explanation is difficult to find for the observer, the connection can be most likely achieved through aesthetic means that would make the public’s perception of the objects sharper. B. N. Goswamy (1991: 68‫ޤ‬78) pushes this issue further as, in the organisation of an exhibition, he clearly seeks the viewers’ emotional response to aesthetic stimuli. Such a theoretical model well translates into practice in a number of case studies described in this chapter. An accent on the synaesthetic experience of the exhibition goers can be identified even in the more conventionally set‫ޤ‬up display of Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille. The dancing performance mentioned above created just the kind of atmosphere that would allow the public to interact in mind and body with the exhibits and to appreciate them on various sensorial levels. The synaesthetic stimulus becomes more evident in the exhibitions planned with an evocative emphasis. The original arrangements of Cina. Nascita di un impero and Cina: alla corte degli imperatori construct suggestive environments that add an all peculiar dimension to the perception of the specimens. In a different way, in Cina, Cina, Cina, Pechino 2008: il tempo, gli animali, la storia and Cina XXI secolo, the works of art themselves, with their combined use of diverse materials and means, encourage a multi‫ޤ‬faceted involvement of the observers throughout the exhibition’s route. This model of display by which the public can acknowledge the presented theme from different perspectives corresponds to the tendency, in our times, to look for more comprehensive information that goes beyond what can be easily accessed through the media and provides an outlook on things from various angles. Such a disposition applies in particular when considering other cultures with which it becomes more and more frequent to get in direct contact and interact. This observation leads to the identification of another ongoing process linked to the changes in the way of displaying China in temporary exhibitions in Italy. As a matter of fact, it cannot be avoided to take a look at “difference” and “distance”, two essential parameters in the construction of Otherness (Hallam and Street 2000: 1‫ޤ‬10). What is therefore noticeable is the fact that while cultural difference remains a

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persistent element in the background of every exhibition, the significance of distance—both spatial and temporal—tends to vary. The latter, still strongly felt in the display of the Chinese export watercolours at the Royal Palace in Naples, becomes increasingly blurred and loses relevance in the other case studies. In examples like Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli, the distance in time between the represented China and the Italian viewers is retained. However, putting an emphasis on exchange in the past and cooperation in the present plays down the distance in space between the two cultures. Furthermore, the recent exhibitions displaying Chinese contemporary art reduce distance even further by showing the China of today and by making it closer through the presence of the artists themselves in Italy. As far as the objects on display are concerned, a clear pattern emerges when considering all the case studies analysed in this chapter: in temporary exhibitions with a Chinese theme Italian chinoiserie are not included. This means that the descriptive connection between these items and China can be only affirmed within the particular historical and spatial context they belong to. This limitation is a consequence of an old conception still strong in many Italian museums, according to which the “authenticity value” of the objects is somehow fixed or frozen in the specific settings where the artefacts are preserved and displayed on a permanent basis (Pinna 2000: 6‫ޤ‬7). Thus, in such circumstances, if chinoiserie are taken outside of that precise environment and temporarily re‫ޤ‬located in a neutral display venue, the aspect of their identity that links them to China is perceived as weakened. For this reason, the only relevant objects deemed by curators suitable to represent China in Italian temporary exhibitions are Chinese works of art. A final remark concerns the peculiar character and identification of the temporary displays analysed. In this regard, the curators’ choices of arrangement appear to be quite consistent. Even if in most cases the event takes place in a museum structure or institution that does not have a direct correlation with the objects and the theme presented, an effort is usually made to create a special link between the premises and the display. This is mostly achieved using material features that convey this message metaphorically. In the exhibition on Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty China in Naples, a mediating element is the Meridian line on the floor, along which a parallel between Chinese and western zodiac signs is established. The sand‫ޤ‬like colour of the dunes realised by Gigli for Cina: alla corte degli imperatori suggests a double aesthetic reference to a certain Chinese landscape and the structure and appearance of Palazzo Strozzi. In the display at Museo delle Mura, the association is intrinsic in the work of art, since Huang

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Rui’s installation was purposely produced to fit in and harmonise with the museum’s spaces. Another distinctive trait common to all the instances examined has also come to light from my interviews with the curators, the official presentations to the public, and the displays themselves. A deliberate attempt is detectable to make of each event a unique experience of an exhibition on China in a specific Italian setting. It is in particular this intentional combination of representations of China and expressions of Italian locality that gives an original shape and identity to these case studies.

CHAPTER FOUR OBJECTS AND THE ENCHANTMENT OF CHINA: THE INTERACTION OF MATERIALITY, AGENCY AND KNOWLEDGE

Introduction In the previous two chapters, cineserie have been considered as components of public displays that variously represent ideas of China according to the specific circumstances that have led a certain selection of specimens to be gathered in certain settings at a particular time. In this sense, the representation perceived by the observers is determined by the collective identity and history shared among the exhibits as a whole. However, the fact that in such a context things are “stripped of the personal narratives” (Shelton 2001: 12) does not mean that their individual biography and essence have been lost. On the contrary, adopting Maurice Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty’s conception of a “perceived world …structured by a plurality of overlapping perspectives” (Baldwin 2004: 19), these elements peculiar to each thing can be retrieved if the thing itself is extrapolated from the contextual reality of the exhibition or museum collection. It is from this point of view that this chapter and the next one take a closer look at some of the specimens in the displays considered in this research. Particular attention is paid to their property of embodying their own representation of China, which can either be in correspondence with, or transcend the contingency and the overall intentionality of the exhibitive settings. Concentrating first on three‫ޤ‬dimensional objects and later on two‫ޤ‬dimensional images, it is highlighted how both categories contribute in different ways to the construction and reception of visions of China through the interaction of materiality, visuality, agency and knowledge.

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Material and technological mysteries on display In the first part of this chapter, the most representative cases will illustrate the engagement of the Italian public with specific cineserie and the resulting perceptions of a Chinese entity. However, before proceeding with this discussion, it is necessary to point out the responses of the people—both visitors and curators—to the objects displayed in general, as I could observe them in the course of my fieldwork. From my investigation it was possible to identify a consistent pattern in this respect. This can be here explored with the help of a few examples. Throughout the Chinese porcelain section of the Duca di Martina Museum in Naples, the arrangement curated by Lucia Caterina gathers the numerous pieces in groups according to the characteristics of manufacture and style. The development of “blue and white” production unfolds from room 25 to room 27. Room 28 is dedicated to Ming‫ޤ‬dynasty polychromes, whereas room 29 contains Qing‫ޤ‬dynasty polychromes. Famille rose 46 specimens are located in rooms 30 and 31. The display of the Chinese collection then terminates in room 32 with monochrome pieces. In the instance of the Chinese porcelain display at the Museum of Oriental Art in Venice, the explanation cards prepared by the curator for the visitors’ reference mostly include information on the technical and artistic features of the objects. In another example, while discussing the choice of exhibits for Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli in Treviso, Adriano Màdaro made it clear that he had selected specimens “that would arouse the viewers’ awareness of the technical skills and avantӊgarde of the producers”. It is exactly in these terms that the museum‫ޤ‬goers usually comment on the Chinese objects displayed. The lacquered panels in the Chinese room of the Royal Palace in Turin excited admiration for the rare qualities of Chinese lacquer and of its manufacture. In a similar way, standing in front of the Buddhist stone sculptures exhibited at Cina: alla corte degli imperatori in Florence, the visitors expressed their appreciation for the carving abilities of the Chinese sculptors. Whatever category of objects is in focus, in most of the permanent collections or temporary exhibitions considered, the intention of the curators was to attract the viewers’ attention on the craftsmanship and unique skills of the Chinese artists and artisans in working certain materials. Only a few more recent temporary exhibitions—of which the one presenting Huang Rui’s installation in Rome, treated at the end of this chapter, is a significant example—show a new curatorial trend that does not put the accent on “how” an object was made of a specific material but emphasises “what” idea of China an object made of a specific material

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represents. However, at the moment, the examples available are not numerous enough and refer to a limited type of contemporary Chinese artworks. It is, therefore, still too early to infer whether this is an indication of a more general shift or it is a phenomenon just linked to isolated cases. What becomes particularly evident in the majority of the instances examined is that the ideas of China inspired by the objects are most commonly related to the material properties and technical peculiarities of the specimens themselves. In other words, it can be said that the representations of China recognisable through the materiality of objects depend on the close link between technological acknowledgement and awareness of a cultural Other. It is upon this essential relationship in the process of perceiving and getting to know another culture that I shall dwell in the following section.

The mediation of porcelain In the light of the general traits presented above, the approach of the curators in exhibiting objects of typical Chinese manufacture and the reactions of the visitors can be better understood if we look back at the long history of interaction between the Italian public and the “mysterious” materials and technologies arriving from China. As a matter of fact, the fascination for Chinese commodities unknown in Italy before their introduction from the East was so strong that it triggered the almost obsessive desire to discover and acquire the secrets of the origin and manufacture of these new goods. Indications of this phenomenon can be found in some fanciful stories and pseudo‫ޤ‬scientific descriptions inspired by those subjects. Specific examples taken from my fieldwork and supported by some relevant theoretical arguments will help to clarify the causes and motivations of past and present responses towards these exotic objects. A starting point to gradually unravel and explain such mechanisms can be found in a situation that I was able to identify through my case studies. I could in fact realise that porcelain vessels and figurines of the Ming (1368‫ޤ‬1644) and Qing dynasties are among the objects that both in museum’s collections and in temporary displays, most frequently are presented as providing an immediate, fitting representation of China. Their presence is abundant in more subject‫ޤ‬specific displays, such as that of the Duca di Martina Museum, the Museum of Oriental Art in Venice and the Tucci Museum in Rome, probably reflecting the old preferences of historical collections that constitute the core of such displays. A conspicuous number of Chinese porcelain vases are usually displayed even

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in the rooms of historic palaces, such as the Spinola Palace, the Royal Palace in Turin and the Castle of Racconigi. According to a similar principle, even in the themed exhibitions dedicated to earlier periods of Chinese history, considerable space is given to the ceramic predecessors of porcelain. Under these circumstances, two instances are worth a particular mention. During my visit to Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille, the curator Lucia Caterina, while accompanying me, eagerly pointed out a ninth‫ޤ‬century white porcelain vase as a special example of the pioneering production of this material. Likewise, in the supervision of the arrangement for Cina: alla corte degli imperatori, Sabrina Rastelli took care to give sufficient prominence to two very early Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty porcelain objects—a small plate and a candle‫ޤ‬holder—in a group of refined ceramics. The emphasis generally put on Chinese porcelain in the displays considered in my fieldwork is so apparent that it makes of these objects the most appropriate instances upon which to base the investigation of the role of technology in the relationship between people and things in this context. The bias detected in the museum displays can be traced back to the relevance of porcelain corroborated by historical sources and artistic evidence showing that, among the products from China, this is the one that most strongly has captivated imagination and curiosity in Italy—as well as elsewhere in Europe—at different times throughout the centuries. While the first production of porcelain in China can be dated back to the Tang dynasty, this material was not known in the West at least until the thirteenth century. In this regard, the Italian case becomes all the more significant if we take into consideration that the earliest European mention of porcelain ascertained so far is the one by the Venetian merchant Marco Polo. In the late thirteenth century, he includes this reference in his account The Description of the World, also known as The Travels or Il Milione. In particular, Marco Polo points out that beautiful porcelain bowls are not manufactured anywhere else in the world outside China and are thus exported everywhere (Ponchiroli 1974: 159). Tradition has it that a small meiping 47 vase with qingbai 48 glaze now preserved in the collection of the treasures of San Marco in Venice was brought to Italy from China by Marco Polo himself (Whitehouse 1972: 63‫ޤ‬78). As Stephen G. Haw (2006: 64) has observed, it must have been not an easy task for Marco Polo and the writer Rustichello (active late thirteenth century), responsible for the writing‫ޤ‬up of Il Milione, to find an adequate term referring to this Chinese product otherwise unknown in medieval Europe. The appearance of the material itself suggested the choice of the word “porcellana”, already used for cowry shells and objects of

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mother‫ޤ‬of‫ޤ‬pearl.49 From the time of its early circulation on the international market, Chinese porcelain became an inspiration for craftsmen wherever it arrived. In her work on the influence of Chinese porcelain on world’s ceramic production, Rose Kerr (2004: 710) refers, from the point of view of the art historian, to the “remote transfer” of Chinese ceramic technology as an “imitation by superficial reconstruction”. However, going one step further, I consider this phenomenon in a dynamic, active way, not only from technical and artistic perspectives, but also from a socio‫ޤ‬cultural angle. For the purpose of this discussion, it is necessary to start from the assumption that art objects have to be considered primarily as “made objects”, produced by means of specific techniques. As a matter of fact, Alfred Gell (1992: 43) defines art itself as a mode of technology, inasmuch it is intended to satisfy necessities comprehended on the level of “socialized individuals in a network of intentionalities”. These two brief definitions already contain the key to the understanding of the socio‫ޤ‬cultural connections and exchange flowing among different artefacts, their makers and their consumers. By considering objects in their aspects of “coming‫ޤ‬into‫ޤ‬being”, we stress the poietic process, which does not simply follow a mechanical causality, but involves much more complex, consequential operations of “bringing forth” something according to a certain procedure and with a certain aim. In this respect, it is useful to recall the original meaning of the Greek word “techne”, referring to “the ability of doing something with forethought and knowledge”50 or, as Michel Foucault specifies, implying “a practical rationality governed by a conscious goal”. 51 Hence, the intimate link between artefacts and people is not only represented by the fact that objects can be regarded as material and social extensions of the human body, but also by the objects’ nature of conveyers of people’s intentions and cultural designs. Using again Gell’s definitions, the primary agency of the producer is transferred into the artefacts. The latter, in turn, exert a secondary agency and act as indexes of their origins, makers, consumers and different cultures and societies into which they are inserted. As Tim Dant (2005: 67) points out, the agency of the objects is not determined by intention, but by a “causal efficacy”, whereas the intentionality of the makers as well as—I would add—of those who require and acquire a specific product is evident in the creative act and in the actual usage respectively, becoming embedded in the object itself. The many over‫ޤ‬elaborated and extravagant—more than functional—porcelain pieces displayed at the Duca di Martina Museum, with their shapes and decorations adapted to western taste and their metal mounts of European

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manufacture, tell the story of commodities purposely produced by Chinese craftsmen to be exported to the West. They also present themselves as mainly ornamental objects serving as gifts, souvenirs and marks of prestige for their owners. For their specific nature and properties, they thus lend themselves to become sought‫ޤ‬after collectables, which could eventually end up—as this is the case—in a museum’s glass cabinets. As this instance shows, on an ontological level, the direct connection among materiality, agency and intentionality is realised through the “being‫ޤ‬in‫ޤ‬the‫ޤ‬world”—to borrow Martin Heidegger’s expression (Heidegger 1962)—of objects and people, and through the empirical interaction between these two elements. Another link to be established is that among materiality, culture, society and knowledge. In this regard, the controversy between the phenomenological view and the structural approach needs to be overcome by admitting a certain complementarity of the two systems. A personal sensorial experience and a historical, culturally acquired experience are both essential for the knowledge of things. By means of metaphorical transfer, working from the known to the unknown, it is possible to link the material and cultural domains and eventually to comprehend the perceived. Yet, this process happens with varying degrees of consciousness, for even Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty himself struggles with the notion of a totalising “transcendental subjectivity” and starts dissociating intentionality from consciousness, giving back some autonomy to the world outside the human being. 52 Thus, without falling into a structuralist extreme that completely denies the conscious state of a subject, we can accept the re‫ޤ‬evaluation of materiality proposed by Claude Lévi‫ޤ‬Strauss within symbolic systems (Lévi‫ޤ‬Strauss 1966 [1962]: 23‫ޤ‬24; Hénaff 1998: 193‫ޤ‬194). Considering the object as a synthesis of ideal properties and material components, the apprehension53 of the intelligible in the sensible can be achieved with a synecdochical operation by relating part and whole, moving, at the same time, among different conceptual domains. In this regard, the example of the history of the Medici family’s involvement with Chinese porcelain in Renaissance Florence well illustrates that the socio‫ޤ‬cultural significance of made objects manifests itself in the material and mental contact that people establish with artefacts, which are imbued of social facts and of the presence of others. The interest of the Medici family in Chinese porcelain derived from their passion for collecting exotic objects. It is possible that the first specimens of Chinese porcelain to enter the Medici collection were the ten pieces acquired, probably through gift exchange, by the Grand Duke Piero de’ Medici (1416‫ޤ‬1469). Porcelain items increased in number—to about 50 pieces—

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under Lorenzo il Magnifico (1449‫ޤ‬1492), but they were still considered rare objects to be kept protected together with other treasures. It was with Cosimo I (1519‫ޤ‬1574) that hundreds of Chinese porcelain objects started being bought not just for display but also predominantly for daily use. Porcelain was gradually integrated, assimilated and employed in the everyday life of the Medici family. In fact, embedded ideas, values and beliefs emerge from the specific techniques and uses characterising the social life of artefacts and have an impact on the social life of people. For this reason, the dialectical relationship among materiality, culture and society can be explained as follows: people encode a part of themselves and their world into the things they produce and acquire, whereas things reflect or transform the social contexts where they circulate and are encountered. If we concentrate our attention on this “process of dialectical culture”—as Daniel Miller (2005: 11) describes it—we then come to the point where we need to transcend the subject/object distinction. In order to overcome the formal constraints and the stereotyped separation between person and thing, we approach the perspective of objectification, by which we consider objects and people beyond their reciprocal relational roles. The problematic concept of objectification often occurs in Marilyn Strathern’s work. Although she initially distinguishes between “reification” and “personification” as “the symbolic mechanisms or techniques” by which objectification takes place (Strathern 1988: 176), she later admits that the two terms she uses are too limiting and ambiguous “for their phenomenal apprehension in an ordinary language sense” and would be better replaced with the more effective Gellian constructs of “index” and “patient” respectively (Strathern 1999: 17). The fluid and hybrid interaction between these homologous entities that Chris Pinney (2002: 146) identifies as “transhuman corporealities” can be observed in the way people and objects come together in technology. As a matter of fact, there is a direct correspondence between technological system and social system: the production of an artefact always happens in a social context, embodies social motivations, reflects itself on social phenomena, and is expressed by social representations of an ideal technical ordering beyond the domain of a specific knowledge and mere know‫ޤ‬how. The attempt to reproduce the formula for porcelain’s ingredients carried out in Medici Florence—the first one of which we have any proof in Europe—was triggered by the increasing quantity of porcelain items that started reaching the West after the discovery of the new sea route to China, sailing around Africa and across the Indian Ocean, in the early sixteenth century. As porcelain trade intensified, the curiosity about its

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manufacture grew. With regard to the production of Medici porcelain, it is worth mentioning the brief treatise “De’ Vasi di Porcellana” (Porcelain Vases) written by Lorenzo Legati, a doctor from Cremona, in 1677.54 In this report, Legati discusses all the previous hypotheses on the manufacture of porcelain, dismissing the assumption that this material was made of seashells and eggshells, as well as the speculation on its therapeutic properties. As others had already suggested before, he believes that the main ingredient is a peculiar kind of soil only found and used in China. He thus concludes that because of the absence of this special soil in other parts of the world, porcelain vases cannot be produced anywhere else. Yet, Legati acknowledges the production of similar wares in Florence commissioned by the Grand Duke Francesco I de’ Medici (1541‫ޤ‬1587). As far as the agency in technical processes is concerned, artefacts exercise a “magical” power in their becoming rather than being. By adding the characteristics of “magic” to technology, Gell implies that the production of an object does not only serve the evident purpose of material reward, but also aims at satisfying symbolic cognitive pursuits. With its power to transcend common, immediate understanding and, aided by fantasy, to bring ideas to fruition, the “magic” element in technology constantly re‫ޤ‬combines, re‫ޤ‬deploys and re‫ޤ‬sets ideal standards, “not to be approached in reality, towards which practical technical action can nonetheless be oriented” (Gell 1988: 8). The association of Chinese porcelain with a “magical” sphere can be detected in the approach of Francesco I towards the manufacture of porcelain itself. His strong interest in alchemy, together with his admiration for Chinese porcelain, led him to pursue the project of reproducing the exotic material. He gathered expert potters, already specialised in the production of maiolica, 55 in the purposely arranged workshop in the Casino of San Marco, in Florence. The result of these technological experimentations was the so‫ޤ‬called Medici porcelain, white soft‫ޤ‬paste porcelain with blue decorations. This material was obtained using white Vicenza clay, glass, powdered rock crystal, sand and white earth from Faenza. The decoration was applied as an underglaze blue, in such a fashion as to copy blue‫ޤ‬and‫ޤ‬white Chinese porcelain wares and the similarly coloured Turkish Isnik ceramics. Francesco I was so proud of this product that he gave items of Medici porcelain as gifts to other rulers, such as Philip II of Spain (1527‫ޤ‬1598) in 1581, Alfonso II d’Este (1533‫ޤ‬1597), Duke of Ferrara, in 1583 and Guglielmo Gonzaga (1538‫ޤ‬1587), Duke of Mantua, in 1584. The production of Medici porcelain did not outlive its patron and only lasted between 1575 and 1587. The short life of this manufacture was due to the high cost of production and the high rate of failure, faults and

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cracking during the firing process. Of the hundreds of pieces produced, less than 60 survive today. Nevertheless, despite the unsuccessful fate, the Medici porcelain was an important milestone in the Italians’ attempts not only to familiarise with a specifically Chinese technology, but also to somehow get closer to the still elusive Chinese culture. In this respect, an expression of this double quest can be found in the texts accompanying two 1575 maps of the Far East by the mathematician, astronomer and cartographer Ignazio Danti (1536‫ޤ‬1586), who was active in Florence from 1562 to 1575. In both of them, the concrete representation and location of China as a specific geographical entity strengthens the intimate connection between porcelain production and the ingenuity of Chinese people. In a brief mention to China, it is noted: … China ... inhabited by very ingenious people ... Here those beautiful porcelain vases are made ...56 [my translation].

Furthermore, as for the production of porcelain by the Chinese, it is explained: … among the other rare things, porcelain is produced here [in China]. They [the Chinese] make this out of seashells and eggshells, which, powdered with other materials, they mix together. They put the compound under ground, for a time span of 180 years so to make it finer and leave it [the finished porcelain product] to their children [as a treasure] ... [my translation].

As it can be inferred also from these texts, the case of Medici porcelain shows that an object is desired and deemed valuable not only in proportion to the difficulty of materially obtaining it—as asserted by Georg Simmel (1979: 62)—and to the physical distance from it, but also according to the mostly conscious need to intellectually possess it, namely to mentally encompass the underlying factors and modalities of its coming‫ޤ‬into‫ޤ‬existence.

Knowing the Other and expressing the Self through aesthetic fruition and technological creativity As it emerges from the instance above, for the Renaissance Italians involved in the production of Medici porcelain the appropriation and mastering of Chinese artistic and technological “secrets” implicitly meant the grasping and understanding of a remote culture, the knowledge of which was still poor and uncertain. The investigation of new materials and

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techniques appears as a tangible manifestation of the need for the elaboration and application of new mental schemata to approach a culture so fundamentally different from their own. In this regard, it is worth spending a few words to comment on Tim Ingold’s metaphysical speculations about the separation of form and substance in an artefact. He not only asserts that in material culture studies the formal characteristics, imposed by human action, play a more important role than the actual material components—according to him, not culturally determined—of an object, but also traces a sharp division between culture and materiality, so to oppose the former against the latter (Ingold 2000: 52‫ޤ‬53). This arguable position—which Ingold (2007) himself seems to have somehow left aside in his recent publication Lines: A Brief History57—is proven inconsistent by the example provided above. As a matter of fact, the materiality per se, namely the raw material of which the artefact is constituted, is also a relevant, active element in the anthropological nexus. The preference of a specific material—in this case, the Italians’ interest in Chinese porcelain—is dictated by social and cultural motivations, as well as by sensorial experiences and responses, which can be stronger and more determinant than environmental circumstances and natural limitations. The initial fascination with new forms, styles, materials, designs and techniques led to the gradual assimilation, integration and adaptation of the novelties into the local traditions of arts and crafts. Then, the signs of distortion and re‫ޤ‬interpretation of the original models developed from a kind of involuntary procedure caused by the uneasiness and unfamiliarity with the “exotic” means, to a more and more conscious practise. The deliberately playful exercise with the re‫ޤ‬combination and re‫ޤ‬elaboration of Chinese shapes, materials and motifs greatly contributed to the emergence and success of the Chinese‫ޤ‬inspired artistic production that is known under the name of chinoiserie. Once the new elements found their niche and imbedded themselves in the host‫ޤ‬environments, they underwent a process of abstraction and were far removed from their original settings. They were thus re‫ޤ‬framed into different dimensions to the extent that, in this sense, they lost their “Chineseness”, becoming fully representative of the local cultural identity in which they had assimilated. Although the mechanisms by which chinoiserie were produced all over Europe during the same period were by and large similar, the final products were characterised by distinctive traits and were imbued of distinguishing significance. These differences were dictated by the unique experience of the encounter between Chinese elements and local elements in each cultural reality. The examples below illustrate some of the peculiarities of

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the Italian experience in this respect, also highlighting how in the Italian context outcomes could vary greatly from place to place depending on specific local circumstances. The case of the Chinese porcelain vases at the Venetian museum of Ca’ Rezzonico very aptly exemplifies this situation. The wood sculptures of the Venetian ebonist Andrea Brustolon, already mentioned in chapter two, offer an original synthesis of the meeting and coexistence of different cultural identities and histories within the same object. Among these, a vase‫ޤ‬holder structure commissioned by the Venier family at the beginning of the eighteenth century stands out in this respect. The lower part represents the allegory of Strength: Hercules, winner over Cerberus and the Hydra of Lerna, supports a big tree‫ޤ‬trunk on his shoulder. In the upper part, three chained Moors and two bearded old men—recalling the river deities sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598‫ޤ‬1680) for the fountain of Piazza Navona in Rome—hold, each, a porcelain vase of Far‫ޤ‬Eastern— Chinese and Japanese—provenance. Aesthetically, the vases contribute to the overall harmony of the artwork, since the bright white of the porcelain and the delicate colours of the decorations create a balanced chromatic contrast with the shiny black and the brown‫ޤ‬red of the wood. On the level of their acquired cultural meaning, they have undergone a conceptual re‫ޤ‬elaboration and an artistic re‫ޤ‬contextualisation into a unique, distinctive composition celebrating the specificity of Venetian cultural character and political history. The metaphorical value at the time of their inclusion as part of the sculpture is retained, if not emphasised in the present arrangement in the museum at Ca’ Rezzonico. An even more radical re‫ޤ‬invention of Chinese porcelain objects for the purpose of creating Venetian artistic self‫ޤ‬expressions is that achieved with enamelled glass vessels. In fact, the combination of the local glass manufacturing tradition with the inspiration of Chinese porcelain produced objects that had a resemblance to typically Chinese material and shapes, but were absolutely Venetian in essence. As William Gudenrath (2006: 65) writes, “in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a growing European demand for fine porcelain imported from China (which was both expensive and in short supply) was partly satisfied by credible imitations made of glass. Although porcelain was made in the area of Venice as early as the 1720s, we know that the Miotti glass factory was making various imitations of it during the ensuing two decades”. This explanation hints at the process by which the Venetian craftsmen, having sensibly and culturally experienced the Chinese elements, deliberately assimilated them in their own works in order to realise a new local product. In other words, a phenomenon of interiorisation of China as Other into the local—in this

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case Venetian—sense of Self took place: materials and techniques, almost as in a ritual, allowed a quite literal identification through a kind of ingestion of skills, substances and uses. The chinoiserie porcelain artefacts of Neapolitan manufacture displayed at the Museum of Capodimonte suggest an even more complex network of relations as far as the interaction between production/perception of objects and cultural representations is concerned. The origins and development of porcelain manufacture in Naples reflect in fact a particular combination of local cultural characteristics and regional political circumstances of a specific period. After the discovery of kaolin as the key ingredient of Chinese porcelain, thanks to the experiments of the physicist and chemist Ehrenfried Walter von Tschirnhaus (1651‫ޤ‬1708) and the alchemist Johann Friedrich Böttger (1682‫ޤ‬1719), in the early eighteenth century the essential knowledge of the production of hard‫ޤ‬paste porcelain spread from Meissen, in Saxony, throughout Europe. This important technological development directly influenced, in a particular manner, the production of porcelain in Naples. Here, King Carlo of Bourbon established a porcelain workshop in the small palace in the Woods of Capodimonte. The result of the efforts of the chemist Livio Vittorio Schepers (d. 1757) and the artist Giovanni Caselli (b. 1698) at the so‫ޤ‬called Real Fabbrica di Porcellana (Royal Porcelain Factory) of Capodimonte was a peculiar type of soft‫ޤ‬paste porcelain, still renowned today as Capodimonte porcelain. Its characteristic is the fusion point at 1,100‫ޤ‬1,200º C, lower than the 1,400º C ca. for hard‫ޤ‬paste porcelain. The manufacturing process was once again based on the one followed for locally produced maiolica. After a first baking, the porcelain was covered with a lead‫ޤ‬based glaze. It then underwent a second baking and, having been decorated, it was returned into the kiln, baking again at a lower temperature. The special connection between Capodimonte porcelain and Meissen porcelain was due to the fact that King Carlo’s wife was Queen Maria Amalia of Saxony (1724‫ޤ‬1760), the granddaughter of Augustus II of Poland (1670‫ޤ‬1733) who had patronised the porcelain research at Meissen. Besides some common technical features, the link manifested itself through the choice of shapes and motifs. As a matter of fact, the plasticity and the fluid lines of figurines and display vases echoed those of Meissen models. The technical and stylistic peculiarities of the Neapolitan production highlight the effort to create ways of aesthetic distinctions and expressions of identity. Initially aiming at competing with other Italian manufactures of the time—for instance, that of the Doccia factories in Florence and the

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Vezzi factories in Venice—in today’s museum displays local porcelain products still feature as exclusive marks of an indigenous cultural tradition. The manufacture at the Real Fabbrica of Capodimonte only lasted from 1743 to 1759, because at the time of King Carlo’s ascent to the throne of Spain as Carlo III, he ordered the demolition of the workshop and the move of artisans and equipment to Madrid. Yet, his son Ferdinando IV continued the tradition of porcelain manufacture in Naples and in 1771 he commissioned the building of a new workshop at the royal residence in Portici. Despite the move to Madrid, the Real Fabbrica of King Carlo left an outstanding and unique legacy in Naples in the form of the over 3,000 porcelain pieces now displayed at Capodimonte. Produced to decorate a Chinese room for Queen Maria Amalia and first mounted in the Royal Palace at Portici in 1759, the whole porcelain composition—as anticipated in chapter two when briefly introducing the case of the Salottino di Porcellana—was transferred to a room at the Royal Palace of Capodimonte in 1866. During the eighteenth century, Chinese rooms were in fashion in many aristocratic palaces across Europe. Yet, the peculiarity of the Chinese room in Naples lies in the fact that the walls are completely covered with Chinese‫ޤ‬themed porcelain figurines and decorations, imitating the manner of the Chinese wallpapers in vogue at the time. All produced in Capodimonte’s workshop between 1757 and 1759, the porcelain pieces have been described by scholars as an excellent Italian example of chinoiserie. Many elements in the manufacture suggest a re‫ޤ‬elaboration of typical motifs and features taken from the Chinese cultural repertoire. As observed by Alida Alabiso (1990: 53), in the natural elements represented in the Porcelain Room there are some hints of traits derived from chinoiserie painting by Jean‫ޤ‬Antoine Watteau (1684‫ޤ‬1721), showing, in its turn, at least a vague inspiration from Song‫ޤ‬dynasty (960‫ޤ‬1127) landscape painting. Moreover, the figures of men and women reveal a degree of acquaintance with the techniques of depicting people in Qing‫ޤ‬dynasty painting. A certain attention to verisimilar details can be detected as well in the decorations and designs of clothing, known from Chinese silks. Also represented are the big porcelain vases well known in Naples—and so popular throughout Europe—at that time. However, it is important to stress that while chinoiserie objects and ornaments were, in general, artistic manifestations of fanciful and idealised images and perceptions of China, those of the Salottino di Porcellana at Portici were expression of a more direct intercultural communication between Naples and China that was taking place at the time especially through the activities of Neapolitan Catholic missionaries.

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In this respect, probably the most intriguing and significant aspect of this composition is the presence of five Chinese inscriptions, at least four of which appear to have been executed by a Chinese hand. As for the meaning of these brief texts, four inscriptions contain comments praising the wisdom and fair government of King Carlo of Bourbon; the fifth one includes three sentences not connected to each other, one of which is a quotation from the Yijing (“Book of Changes”), the oldest Chinese classic text compiled around the ninth century BC. All these factors point at a link between the production of the Porcelain Room, and the Collegio de’ Cinesi (College of the Chinese) in Naples. The latter was an institution established by the Catholic missionary Matteo Ripa (1682‫ޤ‬1746) in 1732 for the education of Chinese converts who would be then sent back to China to carry out missionary tasks. The Collegio de’ Cinesi was under the direct protection of the king. This would explain the content of some of the inscriptions and would justify the cooperation of someone from the College during the manufacture of the porcelain for the Chinese room at Portici. On the one hand, such collaboration in this project adds an almost sacred dimension to the whole task: the distant Other is made closer and interiorised through a sort of ritual act, as by divine intervention. On the other hand, a direct Chinese involvement in the pursuit of this endeavour also casts light on the interest of the locals not only in the technological skills of the Chinese, but also in a wider Chinese cultural tradition. On this point, it can be added that in 1789 King Ferdinando IV authorised the foundation of a Royal Asiatic Society. Aiming at promoting contacts and trade between Naples and China, the plan, however, failed because of the tumultuous situation caused by the Napoleonic Wars and the French occupation (1806‫ޤ‬1815). Contrarily, the Collegio de’ Cinesi was much more successful in the pursuit of an increasing intercultural exchange with China, since from its legacy the Royal Asian College was born in 1861. This educational institution—as Professor Caterina proudly explained to me during a tour of the departmental Chinese library— subsequently evolved in what is nowadays known as the “Orientale”, namely the University of Naples, which is widely renowned for its established tradition of Chinese Studies.

The “place” of cineserie: space, perception and cognition As it has become clear, the Salottino di Porcellana just described above, besides being an astonishing and unique artistic achievement, is also the culminating manifestation of a series of cultural processes fundamental to the scope of this research. Not only it provides essential information on the

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transposition of images from a certain material to another and on the translation from two‫ޤ‬dimensional representations on paper into three‫ޤ‬dimensional figurines, but also tells us a lot about the re‫ޤ‬interpretation of Chinese themes and motifs and their integration with decorations belonging to the European artistic tradition. Furthermore, considering this case, it is necessary to point out that the history of the planning, execution, assemblage and conservation of the Salottino offers abundant and valuable details to analyse the choices and modalities concerning the spatial organisation and contextualisation of images. The relevance of this aspect in my investigation is due to the fact that, as a result of the intimate connection of space, perception and cognition, the location of objects in a specific environment expresses the dynamics of reception of cultural images and representation of cultural identities. The placement of cineserie in the context of ancient Italian palaces well exemplifies the cultural implications in the physical interaction between objects and people. When considering the observation of these artefacts within the whole picture of the surrounding settings, it is necessary to bear in mind that space is not just emptiness or void area, but it acquires a material dimension when considered in its function of connecting things (Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty 1996 [1962]: 243). In particular, in the case of the Salottino, we learn from sources of the eighteenth century that great care was taken in the realisation of the ceiling and the floor meant to accompany the porcelain decorations on the walls. As a matter of fact, while it was decided to embellish the ceiling with matching stucco chinoiserie, a rather intriguing solution was devised for the floor. In 1769, the intention, in this regard, was to use stones retrieved from Roman antiquities in order to produce a mosaic following a Chinese‫ޤ‬taste design. Whether this plan was accomplished or not is still today a much‫ޤ‬debated question. The animated discussion around this matter is caused by the difficulty in identifying this floor, which is, in turn, linked to the uncertain recognition of the room in the Royal Palace at Portici, where the porcelain lining was originally located. One possible theory is that suggested by Annalisa Porzio, curator at the Royal Palace in Naples. While we were looking at the plan of the palace at Portici, she pointed at a specific room in the queen’s private apartments, facing the sea, as the correct original location of the porcelain cabinet. She explained that the motifs of the mosaic floor in this room would not just adhere to neoclassical style, as assumed by other scholars, but would correspond to an innovative, peculiar mélange of local materials, classical antiquities, chinoiserie and neoclassicism, which Porzio (2001: 12) describes in an article as “classicismo rococò”, namely “rococo classicism”.

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The academic controversy regarding the Porcelain Room in Naples is just one example showing that even when objects are taken out of their original spatial and temporal context, they embody their own history and identity, though these can become confused and neglected in the process of de‫ޤ‬contextualisation and re‫ޤ‬contextualisation. Furthermore, it provides the opportunity to reflect on the fact that a similar argument can be applied to space as well. After the discussion with Annalisa Porzio about the original setting of the porcelain composition, I went to check the debated hypotheses at the palace in Portici. The latter, after being used as a hospital by German troops in World War II and later let out as private accommodation, is now the seat of the Faculty of Agrarian Studies. During my visit there, I realised how much the memory of the Porcelain Room as a spectacular cineseria extravaganza is still part of the building’s identity even if its aspect and function have completely changed over time. Mr Neroni, a technician working for the Faculty, accompanied me to see the two rooms possibly identifiable with the original location of the Salottino. He zealously described and pointed out all the relevant features that could suggest the position of the chinoiserie porcelain, from the details of the floors to the stucco decorations added later on the ceilings, from the wooden panels covering cavities in the walls to the position of doors and windows. He also explained that the chinoiserie decorations present in other parts of the palace in the form of mural paintings and stuccos had been recently restored but could be seen only on certain public occasions or by special appointment. Besides his comments, I found significant the spontaneous debates that arose with the people we met en route and especially with the members of staff now using the two rooms as their office. From the exchanges, it was evident that the issue and existence of the Salottino linked to these specific spaces is still very much alive in the entity and texture of the building, despite all the transformations it has undergone. The interest and responses of those who occupy the premises and of the specialists—historians, art historians and local cultural property authorities—that often go to investigate show how places retain—through collective memory and imbedded traces—their identity associated to certain objects even if their appearance has changed dramatically in time and the objects themselves have been removed. Another instance that in my fieldwork has highlighted the multi‫ޤ‬layered relationship among space, objects and things in connection with the choices of arrangements of cineserie in Italian interiors is that of Spinola Palace, the ancient Genoese aristocratic residence presented in chapter two. The analysis of the display of Chinese objects and chinoiserie in this setting can be approached at the same time from two points of view

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that, due to the history and circumstances of the building, tend to converge: that of the house’s private space and that of the museum’s public space. In the rich rooms on the second floor of Spinola Palace, big, monumental Chinese vases appear distinctively among the precious furniture, ornaments and paintings, mostly of Genoese manufacture. The position chosen for the vases in connection with the floor plan and the other objects reveals the relationship between these exotic commodities and their eighteenth‫ޤ‬, nineteenth‫ޤ‬century Italian users. In this regard, as Marilyn Strathern (1990: 29) emphasises, space emerges in its function of enabling the acknowledgement of oneself and the Other through the observation of images, while the display of artefacts allows the observer to perceive the Other’s image, grasp the difference and make it reflect on oneself. The design of the dining room at Spinola Palace vividly expresses the essential influence not only of visual perception but of a multisensorial exercise on this cognitive and identifying process. This room is located after lavishly embellished drawing rooms and the sumptuous gallery of mirrors. Its more sober decoration epitomises a more intimate and retired atmosphere and allowed the people sitting around the table to fully take in the harmonious effect of the ornamentation without being overwhelmed by it while enjoying their meal. Furthermore, in this context the observer has the opportunity to notice and experience in different ways the various elements and the compositional intentionality of the whole decorative settings. Looking at the room itself, the Chinese porcelain vases have been placed on two console tables against the wall in order to discreetly complement the interior decoration. From an aesthetic point of view, their shiny white balances the bright gilding of stuccos, frames and furniture, while the delicate colours and birds‫ޤ‬and‫ޤ‬flowers motifs well match the tones and natural elements of the walls and the console tables. From a thematic point of view, although the vases are clearly recognisable as “different” for their Chinese manufacture and provenance, they do not upset the much more familiar settings: the furniture is all locally produced, the wall decorations are by local artists, and the biggest framed pictures portray three Doges of Genoa. In the dining room, the perception of this sort of artistic and cultural syncretism is not limited to the visual level. As the focus is the table, the visitors can experience—as the diners did in the past—even more closely the intricate combination of exotic and familiar: Chinese features at times prevail manifesting their own distinctive essence, and at times appear more faintly, just hinted, used as a means to expose characteristics from a different—Genoese/Italian/European—cultural heritage. Typically, the eighteenth‫ޤ‬, early nineteenth‫ޤ‬century table is laid

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with porcelain plates and cups of Chinese or Italian manufacture, the surfaces of which are covered in Chinese designs, western motifs, or the coats of arms of Genoese aristocratic families. Small porcelain figurines of Meissen manufacture, reminiscent of chinoiserie‫ޤ‬style objects—namely Chinese‫ޤ‬inspired artefacts produced in Europe—are orderly added in the middle, along the length of the table, as ornaments. This description aims at emphasising the composite nature of the Chinese artefacts as it emerges from their placement in relation to the spatial and socio‫ޤ‬cultural context as well as in relation to the perceptions of their consumers. If it is true that these objects—as it appears from their presentation—are symbols of prestige for their owners, fashion items for the wealthy, source of inspiration for artists and useful accessories for the interior design of rich palaces, it is also undeniable that they convey cultural images and messages. In the specific eighteenth‫ޤ‬century settings, even if their arrangement and contextualisation usually serve the endeavour to prompt strong overall visual impacts and decisive sensorial effects, it is not entirely correct to state that the formal and decorative details of each object—in the way this represents images of China—are completely neglected. The long‫ޤ‬nurtured European curiosity for non‫ޤ‬western artefacts and the cultures that produced them is widely recognised, as it is also the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century desire for deeper knowledge of the different and unfamiliar by means of both phenomenal experience and scientific approach (Thomas 1991: 127; Stafford 1994: 1). Thus, this cognitive purpose is achieved only partially through the inclusion of Chinese artefacts in private, mundane circumstances and through the interaction with them on different levels. The direct intervention on them through the determination of shapes, decorations and uses, as well as through the production of chinoiserie, is also essential to bridge a cultural distance and to fill the gaps in the awareness and understanding of the Other. It is, however, necessary to notice that with this particular form of incorporation the difference of the pieces of Chinese manufacture still remains evident and their integration with other objects in a display can vary considerably depending on the specific settings. The same needs and tensions still appear unresolved and are reflected in nowadays display at Spinola Palace. Visiting the museum, one easily realises that the curators’ main intention is to present the typical residence of an ancient Genoese aristocratic family. Yet, at a closer look, it seems that the effort to keep unaltered the physical and symbolical position of the Chinese objects is pursued with a purpose that goes beyond a historical and contextual faithfulness. While the monumental vases are placed in the

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rooms according to the information drawn from original records and inventories, a whole room on the fourth floor is allocated to the Chinese porcelain sets for convivial occasions. The latter retain their representative, metonymic role. Located within the section of the Spinola family’s ceramics collection, their place in a separate space stresses not only the preciousness and exclusiveness of these exotic objects, but also the ambivalent status of integration and difference at the time when they were used by the family as well as with regard to the rest of today’s display. The overall arrangement of Chinese porcelain in the museum context of Spinola Palace strongly suggests two tendencies. The careful placement of these pieces in both temporal and spatial dimensions aims at reconstructing a historical situation of a certain balance between the Chinese artefacts, the people, and the environment of these interiors. At the same time, it is instrumental to establish a cultural connection and to redefine the relationship between cultural identities.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have focused on the role of objects in the perception and recognition as well as in the determination of features belonging to specific cultural identities. More precisely, analysing the relationship between cineserie nowadays exhibited in permanent or temporary displays and the Italian public in general, I have taken into consideration two interlinked main aspects. On the one hand, I have in fact put the accent on the essential mediation of materiality, which affects the cognitive process as people engage with things through observation, fruition and production. On the other hand, I have stressed the effects and meanings of spatiality, since by placing things in private interiors or public spaces, people relate to the things themselves and to the reality represented. In the cases that I have considered, it has also become apparent that the issue of the spatial arrangement of things is closely connected to that of the organisation and perception of the temporal dimension in which things are located. As objects of various periods come together in the present in spaces that have, in their turn, a long history, for both curators and visitors the then and now of the display ultimately converge in a compressed time. The whole discussion of these issues has been developed on the basis of the principle that, as Virginia Dellino‫ޤ‬Musgrave (2005: 219‫ޤ‬220) points out, by using and manipulating materiality, even when this is connected to a cultural Other—I would add—people construct and project their own Self and cultural identity. From this perspective, the cases I presented have illustrated that—in constant tension between embedded and attached

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socio‫ޤ‬cultural values—cineserie are integrated in Italian environments in the attempt to establish a certain harmony and coherence. The encounter of the “stranger” and the “familiar” then results into the blending and melting of materials, shapes and concepts, from which new reflections of the Chinese Other and new expressions of the local Self originate. It is worth pointing out in this respect that, from the Italian point of view, the difference between having the Chinese objects and knowing how these objects are made so to produce similar ones but with more indigenous characteristics lies in the different emphasis given to the process of grasping the Other. In the former case, it is a matter of making the Other closer and familiar; in the latter case, the focus is on adopting and adapting the ways of the Other in order to transform them into manifestations of local cultural peculiarities. Bearing in mind this general theoretical framework, it becomes easier to make sense of the findings emerged in this chapter. First of all, it has come to light that people’s spontaneous approaches and reactions to the objects exhibited suggest a consideration that goes beyond mere aesthetic features. Certain comments, such as those by Adriano Màdaro on the selective criterion for the exhibits of Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli and those by the visitors on the Buddhist sculptures at Cina: alla corte degli imperatori, highlight the great relevance of intrinsic technical properties in the appreciation of the objects as well as of the culture responsible for their production. Moreover, on an immediate sensorial level, the perception of the materials of which a specimen is made triggers associations that are, for the most, culturally and contextually conditioned. The case of porcelain objects is the one that by far has most clearly and most persistently illustrated this point. As it has come to the fore in my discussion, porcelain is the material that, throughout my fieldwork, has stood out for its characteristic of being deeply imbued with an idea of China. The displays of Chinese vessels of different periods and of different styles and manufactures allow a direct transmission of this specific representation of China linked to the materiality of porcelain. The impact of Italian chinoiserie on the grasping of a Chinese entity is instead more indirect. The overlapping cultural layers embedded in a given chinoiserie primarily define the object as a product expressing a specific Italian locality and only in a second stance as a Chinese reference. Despite the variations observed, the exceptional representative power of porcelain, whether through Chinese specimens or through chinoiserie artefacts, has emerged as a strongly proved phenomenon. This, in its complexity, can be better understood if we consider the peculiar, long‫ޤ‬established Italian involvement with the material itself. As a matter

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of fact, porcelain had been immediately perceived as an extraordinary product of Chinese origin since its first mention in Marco Polo’s account. Subsequently, in the eager efforts to acquire it in ever‫ޤ‬increasing quantities and in the obstinate attempts to reproduce it, the connection with the Chinese identity of the material grew almost obsessively indispensable in the collective imaginary. Such a process can be further explained by taking into consideration the comparable case of lacquer. The latter was also an exotic material unknown in Europe before its introduction in the seventeenth century, thanks to the improvement and intensification of maritime trade. However, the secret of the densely decorated and shiny surfaces of lacquerware was already revealed around the 1650s probably by the Italian Jesuit Martino Martini (1614‫ޤ‬1661) in his Novus Atlas Sinensis, in which he gathered his observations on China following an eight‫ޤ‬year‫ޤ‬long service in this country (Santini 2003: 16). Since it was soon ascertained that the raw material used to produce Chinese lacquer was a resin from a plant only growing spontaneously in the Far East, Italian physicists and chemists joined their colleagues from other European countries in the competition to find the best alternatives using more readily available substances and similar practices already developed locally. While the aura of mystery rapidly faded away, even if the charm of Chinese lacquer had undoubtedly reached Italy, from an early stage the link between Italian public and lacquerware as a Chinese product was not as special and intimate as in the case of porcelain. The emphasis was rather on already existing local materials and techniques that could compare with the effect and appearance of Chinese lacquer. A passage from a recent work on Venetian lacquerware by Clara Santini (2003: 18) well clarifies this situation: As for Italy it was unavoidable that the first ‘counterfeits’ of oriental lacquerware would take place in Venice, where lacquer, far from presenting itself as an impromptu, as well as a brilliant invention induced by the reigning fashion of chinoiserie, already had a centuries old tradition [my translation].

In fact, as for lacquer cineserie, during my fieldwork I mainly found lacquerware specimens of eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Venetian chinoiserie at the Museum of Ca’ Rezzonico. The only other significant instance of a more direct connection between lacquer and China has been the precious “Chinese room” at the Royal Palace in Turin. Characteristic of the latter is the fact that its walls are covered in chinoiserie lacquered panels of typical Piedmontese manufacture, in combination with a few lacquered panels of Chinese manufacture that also decorate the room.

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As the second part of the chapter underlines, issues of the same kind of those arising from the consideration of the objects’ materiality emerge also when we turn the attention towards the placement of objects in space. In this regard, it is necessary to point out that what I have been able to observe in the Italian context is significantly determined by the history of the formation of museums in Italy, as I have already discussed in chapter two. The fact that some of the museums I have visited were originally private residences provides the opportunity to see cineserie in spaces that find themselves in a temporal dimension between past and present. In other words, this situation allows us to understand the current arrangement of cineserie in the museum in light of their location chosen by their previous private owners. As, for example, the display in the dining room of Spinola Palace illustrates, it is possible to understand how cineserie, besides being integrated as commodities representing a cultural Other, gradually had an impact on the recipients’ habitus, intended in Pierre Bourdieu’s terms as the whole of daily practices, behaviours, attitudes and social interactions (Bourdieu 1990: 56‫ޤ‬61). My case studies have also shown how the manifestations of these processes materialised in the domesticity of private spaces by means of somewhat codified arrangements. It is, in fact, not just a coincidence if, as indicators of social status, the finest Chinese porcelain vases—mirroring the original locations—are positioned on the mantelpieces of reception rooms at both Ca’ Rezzonico and Spinola Palace, or find place on console‫ޤ‬tables in corridors and entrance halls at the Royal Palace in Turin as well as at the castle of Racconigi. In all the various display contexts examined, the perception of the overall spatial dimension acquires a key function in the definition and understanding of the thematic and hierarchical positioning of objects that were symbols of sophistication and wealth. Furthermore, the location of the latter is an indication, often quite explicit, of the role or roles of the objects themselves—as mere curiosities, complements to interior decorations, and precious specimen on display—at various stages of their history. A final remark is due with regards to the different treatment of ancient and contemporary Chinese artistic objects that seems to be emerging of late in some temporary exhibitions. As a matter of fact, especially in displays organised in a more traditional, old‫ޤ‬fashioned way, artworks of the past are presented as a sort of “commodified cultural objects”. By this expression, I refer to the sense given to commodities by Alex Hughes and Suzanne Reimer (2004: 9) as, besides the centrality of exchange value, they also consider the relevance of aspects such as aesthetics, identity, creativity and performance in the circulation of objects from one culture to

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another. In this respect, as my examples have illustrated, material and technical qualities become essential elements of cultural distinction. A different approach can be noticed, instead, towards contemporary artworks presented in more recent and innovative exhibitions, which have also seen the direct intervention of Chinese curators. In these cases, the display of Chinese artefacts does not seek a Chinese identification through material or technical differentiation, but rather follows contemporary trends that also in the field of artistic production are pointing towards global homogenisation and convergence in terms of means of execution and communication. The distinctions are rather created through more subtle and conceptualised channels, in which materiality acquires new roles and connotations. What artists and curators aim at emphasising is the fact that contemporary art objects are charged, first of all, with culturally specific meanings determined by social or even political circumstances. It is with this view in mind that we can, for example, look at Huang Rui’s installation at the Museo delle Mura in Rome, discusseded in chapter three. In their material composition, appearance and function the bricks used in Roman architecture and those used to build the Chinese hutong are similar. What distinguishes them from one another is the set of cultural traits and values mirrored in them and typical of the contexts in which they are employed. To sum up, this chapter has illustrated how from the typology, history and arrangement of objects on display specific perceptions of China and the mechanisms that trigger them can be understood. In instances where the aspect of materiality prevails, as with porcelain objects, the metonymic association can become so strong that, as a result, China “is” the material itself and its technology, and vice versa. As the emphasis shifts towards the uses and functions of the objects, the idea of China represented is more one of an exotic, ornamental reality to be accommodated or assimilated in the recipients’ cultural environment. In both these circumstances, what ultimately affects the kind of representation emerging from the objects exhibited is the counterpart—in my case studies the Italian counterpart— that receives, displays and observes the objects. However, with the gradual affirmation of temporary exhibitions of contemporary Chinese art, not only different techniques of exhibiting the objects are adopted, but also different perspectives and criteria of representing China through objects develop. Bolder displays highlight each work of art in such a way that the materiality of the object constitutes a common ground used by the artist to communicate with the wider artistic community and public. At the same time, the idea of China, suggested in this case by the object’s producer— the Chinese artist—directly derives from the specific references of Chinese cultural identity deliberately embedded in the object itself.

CHAPTER FIVE VISUAL REPRESENTATIONS OF CHINA: VARIABILITY IN FUNCTION AND EFFECT

Introduction The impact of objects on the determination and substantiation of ideas of China in Italy has been at the centre of the discussion in the previous chapter. In particular, I explained how and to what extent objects bring forth a diverse range of representations through their plasticity, functionality, and three‫ޤ‬dimensionality. The examples from present‫ޤ‬day Italian public displays—especially in the case of museums’ permanent exhibitions—have proved to be very effective inasmuch they give a good indication of the mechanisms at work in the context of cineserie as museum exhibits today as well as in the context of cineserie as commodities acquired by private owners by means of purchase or gift exchange in the past. After stressing the multifaceted representative power of objects, it is now opportune to consider images from a similar angle. This chapter, hence, explores the characteristics, efficacy and limitations of representations provided by two‫ޤ‬dimensional cineserie. As a starting point, it is here essential to delineate in theoretical terms the conceptual and perceptual sphere within which images by and large operate. For this purpose, I firstly draw the attention on the slant I take with regards to the responses of the observer to visual stimuli. In this respect, referring to David Freedberg’s point of view, in my investigation, images are intended not as different and separated from the rest of the world around us, but, instead, as an integral part of it (Freedberg 1989: 438). As such—it can be further inferred—they are perceived in the same way as any other reality. However, I distance myself from Freedberg on one particular aspect linked to this issue. A strenuous supporter of the effectiveness of images in the real world, he considers it necessary to validate and defend this stance by denying the representative and imitative nature of images themselves. Taking these precautions, he therefore reveals his diminishing approach towards

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representation and imitation, as, in his opinion, these do not belong to reality and have to be dismissed as mere deceptions and irrelevant reflections (Freedberg 1989: 437). In this sense, his stance is reminiscent of Plato’s view on the misleading nature of mimesis and on its separation from the real world, as seen in my theoretical introduction. On the contrary, attributing to both representation and imitation their own phenomenological legitimacy and reliability, I adopt an Aristotelian position and argue that images acquire their relevance in cognitive processes through synaesthetic experience mainly in virtue of their representative and imitative qualities. Barbara Maria Stafford profusely theorises this position in Good Looking (Stafford 1997), one of her works on the multilayered significance of images and their varied applicability. In particular, she poignantly sums up the argument I presented above in an introductory passage as follows: The facile complaint that images are merely and always trumping reproductions drowns any memory of their originality and plenitude. Since when does working with surfaces qualify as shallowness? It’s a bizarre logic, indeed, that tautologically identifies mimesis with copying whatever sits on a plane (as if that were a simple process!), and, from this restricted definition of resemblance, leaps to conclude the inherent superficiality of imitation (Stafford 1997: 7).

Starting from this specific analysis, the chapter treats in a wider context the changing and diverse features and functions of images through which ideas of China are acquired and elaborated. Before moving on to this discussion, it is necessary to point out that the images considered here bear different characteristics and are analysed from more than one perspective. In particular, I will concentrate on: images per se; images in relation to objects, both in the case of images accompanied by other objects and of images imbedded on the surfaces of objects; images of various nature, ranging from themed decorations to figurative paintings and maps.

Suggestions of China nowadays: the evocative twist of images The case of the 2005‫ޤ‬2006 exhibition at the Correr Museum with its presentation of Luzzati’s illustrations of Il Milione summarises in itself the circumstances of contemporary visual representations of China in Italian displays. It allows us not only to consider the depictions on their own, but

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also to observe them in relation to the other visual representations, texts and objects exhibited. Of the twenty‫ޤ‬one plates executed by Luzzati to accompany the text of Il Milione, the first and last illustrate respectively Marco Polo’s departure from Venice and his return to the city. These images, thus, provide a well‫ޤ‬defined frame within which the visual narration of Marco Polo’s adventures develops and the exhibition’s route was articulated. The two depictions are variations on the same scheme. In the foreground, Marco Polo sails across the Grand Canal on a small, empty vessel when he leaves and on a big vessel full of precious goods when he returns. The dense and lively background is occupied by the typical Venetian orientalising architecture and transmits the bustling atmosphere of a commercial port animated by people engaging in their trades and activities. Hence, the observer is reminded both at the beginning and in the end that in Luzzati’s visual rendition as well as in the Correr’s exhibition, another protagonist—besides Marco Polo and China—is Venice itself with its fundamental role in liaising with the East. This aspect was strongly emphasised in the display of the museum, as it will be explained in more detail in the next chapter. In particular, the plate of the departure was placed in gallery seven, a small room dominated by a big painting of a procession in San Marco Square by the local Renaissance artist Cesare Vecellio (1521‫ޤ‬1601). Similarly, the plate of the return was displayed in gallery 14, surrounded by paintings of views of Venice, in the space usually dedicated to the theme of the history of the city’s urban development. Following in parallel Luzzati’s choices in representing certain elements of Marco Polo’s narration and the curatorial choices in presenting the artist’s illustrations at the Correr Museum, it is possible to find clues to discern how images of China are visually constructed and perceived in Italy nowadays. Luzzati dedicates ten plates to the depiction of scenes taken from Marco Polo’s narration of his travels throughout the Chinese empire. The remaining nine illustrations relate to passages describing other places visited by the Venetian outside China. Thus, the artist preserves the special relevance of China both with the relative quantitative prevalence of the illustrations and with the central position in the sequence of the visual narration. As far as the selection of scenes from Marco Polo’s experience in China is concerned, Luzzati privileges those that highlight the relationship with the Great Khan, the power of the Mongol ruler himself and the prosperity of the empire. Yet, his rendition of these topics does not take the form of a grave statement. According to his ironic, fantastical poetic style, he proposes his images as an “elegant metaphor”—

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Giandomenico Romanelli (2005: 7) comments—as the “transfiguration of a travel account in an inexhaustible repertoire of magnificent things and curiosities” [my translation]. The two words “metaphor” and “transfiguration” are precisely the keys to grasp the sense of today’s visual representations of China and their display in the Italian context. As a matter of fact, while re‫ޤ‬formulating cultural notions and associations already established on the basis of collective learnt experience and shared selective memory (Bennett 1999: 252‫ޤ‬256), images of the Chinese Other re‫ޤ‬propose themselves in a different fashion and with new effects and functions. They are not used any more mainly to construct or acquire knowledge of a cultural Other, purposes that can be now achieved by alternative, more direct means. Visual representations tend, instead, to fulfil the task of creating impressions of the Other, thus becoming evocative expressions. Recuperating Barbara Stafford’s theory of analogy (Stafford 2001 [1999]) and Bruno Latour’s ontological perspective (Latour 1999: 141), it could be said that such representations behave like “visual propositions”. They engage with other entities and “propose” “to relate in a new manner” (Stafford 2001 [1999]: 183), nevertheless interconnected to the existential level of each of the parts involved. This point can be better clarified if we go back once again to Luzzati’s illustrations and look more in detail at their intrinsic content and their association with other things in the circumstances of the exhibition. There is consensus among the critics (Romanelli 2005: 9; Marcoaldi 2005: 42‫ޤ‬43) in recognising that Marco Polo’s extraordinary narration rich with heterogeneous elements is fittingly re‫ޤ‬staged through Luzzati’s exuberant patchwork game in which fabrics, paper, feathers and floral patterns constitute allusive combinations and illusory suggestions. As the artist illustrates, breaks up and recomposes the text, in a similar way and with a similar effect the curators of the exhibition treated Luzzati’s visual narration. The selection of objects and the illustrations they accompany complement and reinforce each other in the evocation of the specific visual impressions and mental images first elicited by the artist and then amplified and expanded by the organisers of the display. This overall result emerges, for instance, from Franco Marcoaldi’s comments (Marcoaldi 2005: 42‫ޤ‬43), in his review of Luzzati’s work in the light of the then forthcoming exhibition at the Correr Museum. It is therefore appropriate to add some observations on the evocative process triggered by the arrangement of the materials using as a guide some of the illustrations highlighted by Marcoaldi in his article as most representative. The plate of Marco Polo’s arrival at the court of the Mongols, represented as a joyful, friendly encounter between the Venetian—

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emerging from his vessel—and the Great Khan—richly dressed and sitting on his throne—was allocated a space in a case next to sixteenth‫ ޤ‬and seventeenth‫ޤ‬century travel accounts and geographical treatises. Just above, the seventeenth‫ޤ‬century map of the world Universale Descrittione di tutto il mondo (Universal Description of the Whole World) by the Venetian cartographer Giuseppe Rosaccio (1530 ca.‫ޤ‬1620 ca.) was hanging on the wall. Such a display stressed the pioneering and inspiring value of the Venetian’s journey to China that paved the way for more explorations and discoveries in the East during the following centuries. In another glass‫ޤ‬case, the fierce figure of Genghis Khan in battle, triumphantly riding a white horse and brandishing a sword, was harmoniously presented with a group of Middle‫ޤ‬Eastern weapons and the famous eighteenth‫ޤ‬century drawing of Marco Polo dressed as a Mongol executed by the Venetian artist Giovanni Grevembroch (1731‫ޤ‬1807). The latter included the watercolour “Marco Polo in Tartaria” (Marco Polo in the Land of the Tartars) in the first of his four volumes of drawings with the title Gli abiti de Veneziani di quasi ogni età con diligenza raccolti e dipinti nel secolo XVIII (The Dresses of the Venetians of Almost All Ages Diligently Gathered and Painted in the 18th Century). Even if there was no obvious direct connection among all these elements, the matching colours of the two illustrations and the similar shapes of the sword on display and of the one in Luzzati’s drawing created a fitting composition. This arrangement, according to the curatorial intentions, generated two propositions on different levels. On a more superficial, immediate level, the emphasis on the red colour and on the weapons put the accent on the widespread fame of the belligerent nature of the Mongols. On a deeper, subtler level, two references were suggested: one to the Mongols’ conquest campaigns as far from their homeland as to reach the Middle East; the other to Marco Polo’s involvement with the customs and politics of the Mongols. In a corner, Luzzati’s scene depicting the opulence of the banquets at the court in Cambaluc58—corresponding to modern Beijing—the Chinese capital of the Mongols’ empire, was placed on the wall. This image was mirrored by the display of the glass case beside it, containing some ancient porcelain and ceramic bowls of oriental provenance, most probably arrived in Venice through its maritime trade with the East. In particular, a seventeenth‫ޤ‬century Venetian maiolica with blue decorations inspired by Chinese models recalled the pieces of blue and white porcelain that can be noticed on the table of the banquet in the illustration. The cross‫ޤ‬referencing between China and Venice continued with the arrangement of the illustration representing Chinsai, nowadays Hangzhou.

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The atmosphere of this Chinese port city is rendered in a very lively way. On the one hand, the water canals that surround it, the bridges and the tall, pointed roofs emerging in the distance suggest the physical resemblance with Venice itself. On the other hand, the presence of a number of sailing boats and people with smiling expressions transmits the impression of a prosperous and dynamic community engaged in sea activities. The colourful patchwork that constitutes the buildings presents a variety of exotic decorative motifs—some distinctively of Middle‫ޤ‬Eastern origin— hinting at the maritime trade and contacts with far‫ޤ‬away lands. The objects associated with this illustration are nautical maps of the Mediterranean— mainly produced by Venetian cartographers during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. By means of such a combination the curators intended to evoke in yet another form the long‫ޤ‬established connection between Venice and China through ancient sea routes. From the careful observation of Luzzati’s illustrations themselves and of the exhibition’s arrangement at the Correr Museum it is possible to recognise the common purpose of creating suggestive impressions of Marco Polo’s China not through an immediate and direct didactic description, but rather by means of subtle associations and cross‫ޤ‬references both thematically and aesthetically. This experiment with both visual representation and display that are proposed as inventive and unconventional was carried out using well‫ޤ‬known and long‫ޤ‬established historical sources and cultural traditions. While the plates presented at the Correr Museum are the work of a contemporary Italian artist who depicts a flourishing China in its glorious past, the images by contemporary Chinese artists that I came across in the display of Cina XXI secolo create impressions of China in an unbalanced present between advancement and unease and projected into an uncertain future between optimism and pessimism. All the same suggestive, these images feed on a repertoire of current materials and emerging topics. In the newly refurbished, purposely plain spaces of the exhibition venue, where each artwork was given its own space and did not directly interact with other exhibits, images were given the opportunity to unfold their full evocative potential, free from any overwhelming environmental conditioning. Against a whitewashed background, Weng Fen’s photographic impressions, for instance, were left to attract the observers with their boldness. Visitors could thus see and perceive the tension and unbalance suggested by the juxtaposition of Shanghai’s skyscrapers and the two standing little girls in Bird’s Eye View Shanghai 1. From this acknowledgment to the association with an idea of a fast‫ޤ‬developing

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modern China, characterised by social uncertainty and the disorientation of young generations, the leap for the viewers was not too big. Throughout the exhibition, the use of evocative images appeared to be a favourite choice for the artists focused on the representation of problematic issues of a destabilised society and challenged identities in today’s China. Liu Xiaodong’s paintings, among others, also followed along this line. The large painting Three Gorges Displaced Population captured the attention of the observers as the latter could feel a sense of engagement with the six men portrayed. These, in their turn—according to the author’s intention—transmitted the helplessness of common Chinese people who not only cannot stop the construction of the Three Gorges dam,59 the largest hydroelectric power station in the world, spanning the Yangtze River in Sandouping, Yichang prefecture, Hubei province, but even have to help in the destruction of entire villages for the realisation of this controversial project. In fact, while the Chinese authorities praise it as a historic engineering success, critics (Jing 2003 [2000]: 209‫ޤ‬212; Heggelund 2004) point out that the dam not only has a negative impact on the ecological balance of the area, but has also flooded archaeological and cultural sites and has displaced so far about 1.24 million people. As the two images presented here demonstrate, the strongly suggestive visual compositions displayed in exhibitions with a contemporary Chinese theme have become instrumental for both artists and curators to convey the essence of circumstances which would be difficult and less effective to represent in a descriptive way. In the contexts considered, evocation also stands out as a device particularly suitable to let the viewer take part in the hermeneutic process rather than just gazing at the image. Such an approach on the part of those who produce as well as those who display images reflects a theoretical tendency that has been developing in the last 20 years among experts of visual culture. Revaluating the socio‫ޤ‬cultural significance of visual representations, the latter are, in fact, contemplated as components of the structure of everyday practices. The accent is thus put on their being “visual phenomena”—as Ian Heywood and Barry Sandywell (1999: x) define them—which are not just “seen”, but are also experienced, playing an essential role in the viewers’ acquisition of consciousness and knowledge.

Overpowering decorative effect: reconciling images, objects and settings Judging from the evidence provided by exhibitions of the last few years, the particular awareness described above seems to be increasingly

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affecting the production and display of images of China. If it is certainly necessary to follow the evolution of these representational mechanisms, it is also worth comparing them with different coexisting models influenced in various ways by already established schemata. In this regard, the case of the Chinese apartment at the castle of Racconigi offers a very suitable yet rare opportunity for such a comparison. It, in fact, allowed me to analyse the overall result and effect obtained when a visual composition on a Chinese theme, inspired by a contemporary evocative mode and images that, though idealised in their contents, follow a descriptive pattern, are deliberately placed side by side. Traditionally, the peculiar features that most of all make the rooms of the ground‫ޤ‬floor private apartment in the right wing of the castle specifically “Chinese” are the wallpapers that decorate the walls. Bought by Prince Luigi Vittorio di Savoia‫ޤ‬Carignano (1743‫ޤ‬1780), through English merchants, around the middle of the eighteenth century, these Chinese wallpapers were produced in China by local artists on purpose for the Western market. Made of sheets of rice paper painted with watercolours, they were among the luxurious interior accessories in fashion at that time and were decorated according to the repertoire of motifs typical of Chinese export artistic production. On some walls, depictions of flowers and birds prevail, while on some other walls, it is possible to distinguish Chinese scenes of everyday life, with people engaging in daily occupations or enjoying open‫ޤ‬air theatrical performances.60 It has been often stressed by art historians—among whom Craig Clunas (1984; 1987) and Carl L. Crossman (1972; 1991) are the most authoritative specialists—that the views of China in these artistic products commissioned by foreigners, though executed by Chinese artists, were fanciful and far‫ޤ‬removed from reality. Nevertheless, what is important to highlight for the purpose of this investigation is the fact that such images did somehow describe those aspects of China that attracted great curiosity in Europe, but that could not be otherwise acknowledged or witnessed by the majority of the western public. As for the idyllic character of the depictions, it is worth to bear in mind that the artefacts on which they appear—as I will further discuss below in this section—were first of all destined to embellish the rich palaces of their European purchasers. Therefore, vivid colours, ornamental designs and merry and playful scenes were intended to entertain and impress guests as well as to delight the owners. As I was able to ascertain from their settings, the wallpaper panels at Racconigi were not an exception in this respect. Moreover, they still retain the same combination of descriptive, decorative and entertaining functions

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that they had in the past, as the visitors give them a quick gaze during their tour of the castle. Their importance in the context of the ornamentation of the Chinese apartment was emphasised by one of my guides at the time of my inspection to these rooms. He explained how all the panels had undergone a thorough restoration in 2003, on the occasion of the visit of the Savoia family. Not only were their colours given back their original brilliance, but the paper was also protected from dampness by mounting the whole panels on a base of wood and intertwined straw before being hung again on the walls. After the restoration—the guide added—the wallpapers were brought into the limelight by a special event in 2004. As part of an exhibition of contemporary art to be held at the castle, they were selected, together with two other features of the palace, to inspire three new works by young artists. The result of this exercise was Autumn Plot, a five‫ޤ‬square‫ޤ‬meter coloured print that was placed in a space on one of the walls left empty while some badly damaged Chinese panels were still being restored. In her personal re‫ޤ‬interpretation of the Chinese motifs, the Czech artist Isabela Grosseová produced a collage of Chinese wrapping papers and advertisements that would evoke the original Chinese scenes and patterns. From the comments of my guide, I could understand that the public had appreciated the overall aesthetic effect created by the juxtaposition of the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese wallpapers and the 2004 work of art. Yet, it was also clear that in this combination of very different visual representations, both the descriptive connotation of the Chinese images and the evocative character of the contemporary print were overcome by the decorative function, through which the two representations themselves could be reconciled. The examples that I have considered in my fieldwork have allowed me to recognise that by and large the descriptive yet idealised images applied by Chinese artists on all kinds of objects required by the western market were eventually absorbed, so to speak, by the very objects on which they appeared. In other words, in the case of painted porcelain, furniture and other accessories—such as fans, small boxes and the like— the intrinsic aesthetic, material and functional properties of the objects prevailed over a specific interest in the details of the images themselves. This phenomenon remains apparent in a certain way of displaying in our times. At the Duca di Martina Museum, for instance, the emphasis in the arrangement and labelling of the numerous painted specimens rests unequivocally on the porcelain technology. Very little mention is made of the images—often genre scenes, mythological or historical figures and scenes from famous theatrical works—depicted on the porcelain surfaces.

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Even more evident is the case of images of Chinese scenes, figures and landscapes on chinoiserie artefacts. At the museum of Ca’ Rezzonico, the label of an eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Venetian lacquered cabinet points out the uniqueness of this piece in walnut wood for its dimensions, style and craftsmanship. It also specifies that this is an exceptional object in the collection because it is probably the only one to have originally belonged to the palace. However, any information about the chinoiserie images on the two doors on the front, including a Chinese figure with an umbrella, a kneeling Chinese making offerings and a pagoda, are completely dismissed. I could observe the same treatment in the other museum contexts I visited. Commenting on the chinoiserie tapestry in the “Sala dei Paggi” (Room of the Footmen), the curator assistant who accompanied me at the Royal Palace in Turin eagerly explained that these were precious specimens of Beauvais manufacture61 imported by the Savoia family from France. She did not however make any reference to the elaborate, large size images of Chinese inspiration. These instances all illustrate a common mechanism by which two‫ޤ‬dimensional cineserie in Italian displays are seldom treated independently or even considered at all as autonomous representations. They rather remain firmly attached to the objects on the surface of which they have been applied or the settings in which they have been placed. In the overall effect and purpose of the display, images are often overshadowed by these other elements. As the emphasis falls on the material and aesthetic qualities of the objects and the historical and cultural relevance of the surrounding environment, images are granted the significant yet subordinate function of ornaments and embellishments. In this respect, it is worth noticing that even if I presented here in more detail only the most evident cases, I detected such a situation in all the permanent exhibitions considered during my fieldwork. This is not surprising if we take into account—as it has already emerged more than once in the previous chapters—how strongly local specific circumstances and the legacy of historical venues affect curatorial decisions and determine visitors’ perceptions. Under such conditions, if it is difficult for certain objects to affirm their identity and presence in the context of the display, it is likewise difficult for the images embedded on them to be noticed as more than mere decorations.

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Images as primary source of information Among all the examples examined, the exhibition of Chinese watercolours at the Royal Palace in Naples in 2001‫ޤ‬2002 is a remarkable exception to the circumstances highlighted in the previous section, as it is the only exhibition entirely focused on a set of specific images. This curatorial choice was dictated by the fact that the Chinese album sheets were the absolute protagonists of the display, which did not include other objects. It is therefore particularly appropriate to present this case in detail at this point. As Annalisa Porzio, one of the curators, emphasised, given the subject of the watercolours—namely the cycle of production of rice, silk, porcelain and tea—the exhibition was planned with a strong didactic intention, aiming at putting the accent on the historico‫ޤ‬anthropological meanings of these representations. Thus, detailed, explicative panels were produced as a complement to the display. They served the purpose to describe the various phases of each process as illustrated by the watercolours. Furthermore, they also provided additional information on the circumstances of manufacture and the uses and circulation of these typical Chinese products at the time of the execution of the paintings, namely in the second half of the eighteenth century. In particular, details were given about the possible provenance of the sets. Originally coming from a workshop in Canton, the albums are thought to be a present to Maria Carolina (1752‫ޤ‬1814), wife of King Ferdinando IV, from her brother Leopoldo d’Asburgo (1747‫ޤ‬1792) Granduke of Tuscany. As the research conducted by Caterina (2005: 77‫ޤ‬104) demonstrates, this hypothesis is corroborated by official records and other similar specimens still extant in Florence. Such materials prove that the Granduke used to buy Chinese watercolour albums and wallpapers from Dutch and English merchants directly trading with China. He could easily obtain the Chinese goods via the important port of Livorno, on Tuscany’s coast. It also deserves to be pointed out that, besides physically tracing the route of the watercolours from their producers in China to their final destination in Naples, the curators treated with specific attention the artistic and cultural background of the images themselves. In the explicative panels they included references to the illustrations of the Gengzhitu (Ploughing and Weaving Illustrated)—an ancient Chinese didactic text about various agricultural activities and technologies—as the iconographic models for the depictions of the rice and silk manufacturing processes. More precisely, they specified that while a number of printed editions followed the first publication of the Gengzhitu in the twenfth

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century, the prototype for the watercolours in the exhibition had been the 1696 edition commissioned by Emperor Kangxi (1654‫ޤ‬1722), with illustrations by the painter Jiao Bingzhen (1689‫ޤ‬1726). The addition of these details to accompany the album sheets and the overall setup of the display are the features that most significantly characterise the function and consideration of the visual representation of China in this exhibition. Taking into account these peculiar elements, it emerges that sets of watercolour images like the ones presented in Naples, despite a high degree of idealisation and despite their nature of mass‫ޤ‬produced commodities for the western market, could in the past and still can now be regarded as didactic instruments with effective descriptive qualities. Especially relevant in this sense is their connection with Chinese traditional visual materials—such as the Gengzhitu 62 —that had been realised with a deliberately instructive purpose. The cases analysed so far have presented visual representations of China that are produced and displayed taking into consideration a focus mainly on mechanisms of reception, perception and re‫ޤ‬elaboration of ideas of China. Furthermore, they have shown the specific, recurrent phenomenon by which with the abundance of three‫ޤ‬dimensional artefacts and the availability of various channels of information, visual representations become intimately connected and subordinate to other means of materialisation and acquisition of knowledge of the Other. It is only the last example of the watercolour albums that detaches itself from this general trend. The arrangement of the exhibition at the Royal Palace in Naples stands out inasmuch it allows calling attention to the descriptive, factual dimension of images that otherwise tend to be recognised in their quality of idealised visions and decorative impressions. The second part of this section deals with a few other cases of temporary displays in which the attention to the descriptive function of visual representations reflects the interest in material and cultural features that could not be otherwise grasped in the absence of other representational means. During the visit to Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille, Lucia Caterina deliberately dwelled upon the description of the mural paintings taken from Tang dynasty tombs. In particular, she stressed how these specimens are not only the earliest extant examples of Chinese painting, but also an essential, irreplaceable evidence of customs, life style and occupations of the people of the time. For instance, the curator laid emphasis upon the elegant girls depicted performing specific dances, such as the dance with the scarf, and playing typical musical instruments, like the musician with the paixiao flute. 63 Among the scenes exhibited,

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especially intriguing for the visitors was a rare representation of a group of horse riders playing polo, a game of Persian origin arrived in China through Tibet. This depiction was taken from the paintings of the tomb of the Prince Zhanghuai (d. 684) in the Qian district of Xi’an, Shaanxi province. The pivotal factual role of images employed as support or even substitute for the evidence of things in the presentation of specific activities and conditions could be observed at Cina: alla corte degli imperatori. In order to present to the public the life in military garrisons of the frontier regions during the period of the Three Kingdoms (220‫ޤ‬280), the curators displayed a group of painted bricks from third‫ޤ‬century tombs excavated in Gansu province. The depictions on the bricks provide, in fact, a unique record not only of subsistence activities—good examples being the scenes of ploughing the fields and butchering a big pig—but also of the natural environment, as in the case of the image of camels eating leaves from mulberry trees. Adriano Màdaro also emphasised the informative function of some visual representations in his exhibition Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli. An apparent case of this approach along the visiting route could be found in the gallery dedicated to the Jin dynasty (1115‫ޤ‬1234). In a glass cabinet, a porcelain vessel of this period was displayed alongside a mural painting from one of the Jin tombs at Zhao Li, in the Shijingshan district of Beijing, depicting a scene of preparations for a banquet. What made of this image a precious document in this context is the fact that in it, among various utensils carried by the servants and laid on a table, there was, easily identifiable, a porcelain jar of exactly the same type of the specimen on display. In the curator’s intention, the association created in this cabinet served the purpose to illustrate the actual use of a specific vessel in convivial circumstances as testified by a visual representation contemporary with the porcelain jar. In the light of these examples and considerations, I can now pinpoint, in the last part of this section, a similar mechanism at work in the role of another type of images. In particular, I here refer to Italian visual representations of China that nowadays are generally reputed—as it will be explained below—to have played and still perform a relevant task in the actual construction and acquisition of information of a Chinese entity. In order to illustrate this aspect, I return once again to the instance of the exhibition inspired by Marco Polo’s journeys at the Correr Museum. The images on display that I take into consideration this time are the ancient cartographic representations of that part of the world through which the illustrious Venetian merchant had travelled. Immediately in the

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first room of the exhibition, China was hence presented as a geographical entity in the context of the representation of the lands east of Europe. Among the maps selected, the curators described two specimens with a special emphasis for their relevance in the Venetian tradition of navigation, trade and contacts with the East. These were Rosaccio’s seventeenth‫ޤ‬century map of the world—already mentioned at the beginning of this chapter— and the map indicating Marco Polo’s eastward route drawn by the Venetian man of letters and sciences Francesco Griselini (1717‫ޤ‬1784) in 1762. The latter is particularly important in local cultural history as it served as a model for the commemorative painting to be displayed at the Doge’s Palace, where it can still be seen today. Besides their intrinsic historical and cultural value, these maps bear a factual significance in the motivations and circumstances of their realisation. They show the gradual consolidation of the scientific awareness of China, as a more precise knowledge of the location, boundaries and morphology of distant territories was affirmed and reinforced thanks to the endeavours of travellers and the competence of cartographers. In this respect, such maps provide a fundamental contribution to the construction of a definite reality with which a still somehow vague idea of China could be associated. It is therefore possible to speak, in this case, of “representations of space” in the sense intended by Henri Lefebvre (1994 [1991]: 38) as the “conceptualised space, the space of scientists, planners, urbanists, technocratic subdividers and social engineers, as of a certain type of artists with a scientific bent—all of whom identify what is lived and what is perceived with what is conceived”. Seen in these terms, visual representations produced by cartographers such as Rosaccio and Griselini exercise a strong impact on the acquisition of knowledge of a Chinese space and, consequently, of a Chinese identity. At the same time, if we depart from the examples displayed in the exhibition at the Correr Museum and take into consideration earlier maps, we can observe that a higher degree of uncertainty and inconsistent experience about the distant Other and, for that matter, its spaces resulted in the production of images that rely on “spatial practices”—to borrow again Lefebvre’s terminology (1994 [1991]: 33, 38, 40‫ޤ‬41)—namely based on perceived, lived‫ޤ‬in spaces. This means that in the attempt to give substance to and formalise a poor idea of the Other, even its spaces could only be represented using conventional systems that would draw on a combination of imagined and familiar elements. This point can be explained more precisely if it is illustrated through the instance of the map that Fra Mauro, Venetian monk and cartographer, compiled between 1457 and 1459. This representation of the whole world

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known at that time—now preserved at the Doge’s Palace in Venice— constitutes a milestone in the history of medieval cartography. In its general structure, the map still followed some ancient guidelines and, on the whole, more or less reliable—even if not completely precise— information of medieval travellers. As far as China is concerned, on the one hand, Fra Mauro predominantly adopted Marco Polo’s indications, providing toponyms and additional annotations on certain places. On the other hand, what is particularly striking at a closer look is the appearance of the buildings drawn throughout the space of the Chinese territory to denote cities and towns. As a matter of fact, the architecture depicted does not bear any distinctive Chinese traits, but bridges, towers and windows reflect a typical Venetian construction style. This way of representing unfamiliar spaces is not unique to this case but was a common practice at the time of geographical discoveries in the Renaissance period. Commenting on the representation of the city of Tenochtitlan, nowadays Mexico City, realised in 1528 by the Venetian miniaturist and cartographer Benedetto Bordone (1460‫ޤ‬1531), David Y. Kim (2006: 80‫ޤ‬91) explains that “Renaissance voyagers, cartographers, humanists, and diplomats often used Venice as a parameter, a well‫ޤ‬known reference point, to construct images of newly‫ޤ‬reached places in the New World, as “a shimmering mirror fluctuating between likeness and otherness”. Although sometimes paradoxical, these images, as Fra Mauro’s visual representation of China, can be recognised as informative and factual. This observation finds validation in a tendency described by Lach (1965: 66), according to which maps of the known world were based more and more on empirical data from the fourteenth century onwards. Such an approach on the part of cartographers grew particularly strong already from an early stage in Italy, where an increasing quantity of geographical information was made available thanks to the accounts of travelling merchants and missionaries. In this favourable environment— Lach (1965: 66) points out—“the Laurentian portulan of 1351 is the earliest map still extant to include data derived from Marco Polo’s description of his sea voyage from China back to Europe”.64 The comparison between earlier examples and the maps exhibited at the Correr Museum helps us to better understand the descriptive, factual function of cartographic representations of China. As highlighted in particular by the display of the exhibition, ancient maps appear to reflect the need to physically construct and define the Chinese territories, as the latter were becoming more easily reachable. In a similar way, the presence—rare yet significant—of certain elements associated with China in medieval and Renaissance painting mirrors the more or less conscious

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process to somehow materialise and determine a Chinese identity. During my fieldwork, I have not found on display any of these early Italian representations with visual references to China. However, I include them here as they allow clarifying even further how images produced under certain circumstances could in the past and still can today—though for different purposes—fulfil an informative function, being more tangible and immediate evidence insufficient. Once again, Italian instances of this type of images are the earliest identified so far. Like in the case of early maps, Italy’s advance in this respect can be accounted for by the prominence of Italian direct contacts with Asia in the medieval period. The Far‫ޤ‬Eastern‫ޤ‬looking figures in the works of important Italian painters active in the late Middle Ages, such as Ambrogio Lorenzetti (1290‫ޤ‬1348) and Pisanello (1395‫ޤ‬1455), demonstrate the attempt to define the difference of an Other which, at that time, most had only heard about and a few had the opportunity to see in person. The figures were probably inspired by the East Asian people—dignitaries or even slaves—that arrived in Italy through the ports of Venice and Genoa. This is the plausible hypothesis brought forward by some historians in the first half of the twentieth century (Goetz 1938a: 55‫ޤ‬56; Olschki 1944: 105) and formulated in a more defined way by Maria Grazia Chiappori (1981: 282) in her essay on the reflections of East‫ޤ‬West contacts in Italian medieval figurative art. In the same time‫ޤ‬span, representations of a Chinese entity were also produced by means of depictions of new, peculiar commodities—in particular porcelain vessels—that reached Italy, having been acquired by Venetian and Genoese merchants from mediating Middle‫ޤ‬Eastern traders in the ports on the Black Sea. An idea—even though not yet defined—of China thus gradually developed as a rich elite could materially engage with still scarce Chinese artefacts and a wider public could visually appreciate such objects. Nowadays the factual connotation of such visual representations is highly valued by scholars who analyse the inclusion of Chinese porcelain vessels in the paintings of Italian Renaissance artists in relation to the study of the trade between China, the Middle East and Europe (Spriggs 1964‫ޤ‬1966: 73‫ޤ‬87; Carswell 1993: 180‫ޤ‬186). Observing these peculiar figurative compositions, it is worth pointing out that the fact that these rare, exotic elements were considered as particularly precious can be deduced from the position and function allocated to them. In a painting of Madonna and Child dating from 1460‫ޤ‬1470 and attributed to Francesco Benaglio (1432‫ޤ‬1492 ca.) we can see in the foreground a Chinese porcelain bowl full of pears, which are “a symbol of the Virgin and Christ” as well as of “the love for mankind of the

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Incarnate Christ” (Lightbown 2004: 428). Andrea Mantegna (1431‫ޤ‬1506) chose a Chinese porcelain cup as container of the gold that the first Wise Man offered to the Holy Child in an Adoration of the Magi executed at the end of the fifteenth century. Three large Chinese porcelain bowls were granted an eminent position in the Feast of Gods, painted by Giovanni Bellini (d. 1516) in 1514, as they were skilfully placed in the central part of the composition. With regards to this last painting, the comments of some scholars give the opportunity to make assumptions on how the artists may have come into contact with the porcelain pieces—still very rare in Italy at that time—appearing in their paintings. As a matter of fact, A. I. Spriggs (1964‫ޤ‬1966: 66‫ޤ‬74) speculates that Bellini might have seen Chinese porcelain vessels while working at the Doge’s Palace, since such items were sometimes sent to Venice’s authorities as diplomatic gifts from the sultans in the Middle East. John Carswell (1993: 182‫ޤ‬184) even goes as far as to suggest that Bellini himself might have acquired bowls like those depicted through his elder brother Gentile Bellini (1429 ca.‫ޤ‬1507), who in 1480 probably brought a few porcelain items back to Venice from Constantinople, after serving there for one year as painter for the Sultan Mehmed II (1432‫ޤ‬1481). A different emphasis is instead detectable in later visual representations. Developing from earlier instances, such as those presented above, the depiction of Chinese porcelain artefacts especially in still‫ޤ‬life paintings became fashionable in the seventeenth century. As the quantity of commodities being imported from China gradually increased over time, pictorial images of Chinese porcelain objects by local artists were commissioned as a sought‫ޤ‬after complement to the collections of cineserie belonging to rich Italian families. Typical examples of this phenomenon are the still‫ޤ‬life paintings realised by the Florentine painter Giovanna Garzoni (1600‫ޤ‬1670) between 1651 and 1662. As Francesco Morena (2005: 159) explains in his catalogue of Chinese and Japanese artefacts in the collections of the Medici family and now kept at the museum of Palazzo Pitti in Florence, some of Garzoni’s paintings had been commissioned by Ferdinando II de’ Medici (1610‫ޤ‬1670). The art historian thus presents these works just to make the point that the bowls and vases in these paintings might have even be inspired by the specimens in the Medici’s ever‫ޤ‬expanding assortment of Chinese porcelain.65 By comparing the context and circumstances of the production of the earlier paintings to those of the production of the later ones, it is possible to find the key to the understanding of the cognitive and informative relevance of visual representations in relation to the presence of objects. As we have seen with regards to the appearance of Chinese porcelain in

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Italian late medieval and early Renaissance paintings, the image of an object goes as far as to replace altogether the object itself, thus embodying the object’s factual characteristics. However, as soon as the presence of objects becomes more widespread and numerically abundant, objects reclaim their authority as informative representations of a cultural Other. Images, in their turn—as described in the instance of Garzoni’s paintings—change their function into that of decorative accompaniments.

Conclusion Examining the various conditions of display in my case studies, clear patterns and distinctions have emerged as far as two‫ޤ‬dimensional representations of China in Italian permanent and temporary exhibitions are concerned. On a more general level, it has become particularly evident that the relevance and function of images are not fixed and absolute. They rather depend on the presence of other tangible representations, mainly in the form of objects, and on the availability of other sources of information. In other words, the way in which visual representations are perceived and the role they fulfil changes in accordance with the circumstances and settings in which they are produced and experienced. When considering the purpose and effect of images, the question to ask does not refer to how meaning “gets into” the image itself, nor it is a matter of distinguishing the nature of “the messages it may contain”, as Roland Barthes (1977: 32) suggests in his semiological analysis. It is, instead, more appropriate to look at how the reality and knowledge embodied by the image make sense in the light of the synaesthetic process occurring not only at the time of production, but also at the time of observation. The stance that I take on this issue is in line with the approach towards images that Roy Wagner (1986b: 22‫ޤ‬27; 127‫ޤ‬132) adopts in the formulation of his theory of phenomenical hermeneutics. Later echoed in works by Marilyn Strathern (1990: 36) as well as by Arnd Schneider and Christopher Wright (2006: 14), Wagner synthesises his theoretical perspective on the function and impact of the image as follows, in his study of the social and ritual life of New Ireland’s Barok people: “It [the image] must be experienced in order to be understood, and the experience of its effect is at once its meaning and its power” (Wagner 1986a: 216). This principle entails that the grasping of the meaning of an image not only relies on sensorial subjectivity, but is also conditioned by the context in which the experience takes place. Hence, if we look more specifically at the instances presented in this chapter, bearing in mind the considerations above, the mechanisms at the

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basis of perception and experience influencing the roles and effects of images of China in Italian displays become more easily identifiable. In particular, I have been able to observe that when exhibiting images produced by contemporary artists, the evocative aspect prevails. This happens because both the producers and the viewers experience these visual representations in relation to a common set of contingent data and socio‫ޤ‬cultural assumptions corroborated—though to a varying extent—by other forms of material representation and informative documentation. A very clear example is provided by Luzzati’s figurative patchwork at the Correr Museum. The Chinese suggestions of the illustrations were elicited not only by the pre‫ޤ‬existing popularity of Marco Polo’s account, but also by the variety of displayed objects and even of other images, creating background references to the long‫ޤ‬established tradition of contacts between Venice and China. Less evident is the case of the visual representations by Chinese artists displayed at Cina XXI secolo, where the connection of the evocative images with tangible materials and information sources granting a certain acquaintance of the Italian viewers with present‫ޤ‬day China was not explicitly formalised in the exhibition. In fact, imported Chinese goods, sophisticated information and communication technologies and the reality of Chinese immigrant communities are determinant factors already at work every day, outside the exhibition context, on the knowledge and imagination of people in contemporary globalised societies. According to the same theoretical model applied to recognise the function of images in a specific context, I could also notice another consistent process. In environments where objects as such are numerically and thematically predominant—as in the collection of Chinese porcelain at the Duca di Martina Museum—or other cultural topics prevail—as at the museum of Venetian eighteenth‫ޤ‬century decorative arts of Ca’ Rezzonico —images of China remain just decorations. On the contrary, in situations where the insight provided by images cannot be replaced by that obtained through objects—as in the case of maps—or compensates for insufficient material and textual evidence—as it happens with ancient Chinese mural paintings—visual representations acquire an essential informative role. Highlighting these tendencies, we are led to conclude, as Pinney (2003: 3) puts it, that “the formal qualities of images themselves may be in large part irrelevant ... If an image that appears to do a particular kind of work in one episteme is able to perform radically different work in another, it appears inappropriate to propose links between formal qualities and effect”. This argument has been made particularly obvious by the instance of the Chinese export watercolours. Variously used—Caterina (2005:

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77‫ޤ‬104) explains—as ornaments for the rooms of rich Italian mansions at the time of their acquisition in the eighteenth century, these paintings become a didactic tool in today’s contexts, such as that of the exhibition at the Royal Palace of Naples. This instance allows me to emphasise even more strongly that spatial as well as temporal and socio‫ޤ‬cultural variables, together with the circumstantial relationship with other types of representation—most of all objects—have a decisive impact on the viewer’s experience of an image and the effect of the latter. Returning once again to the reciprocal dependency between image and object, it is still worth considering the situation in which the object in question is the medium of the image. In this respect as well, it is possible to point out that the two elements of this relation can mutually affect each other’s visibility and that the balance between the object’s visibility and the image’s visibility is subject to shifts and variations. Thus, on the one hand, at the exhibition of the Royal Palace in Naples the descriptive images of the export watercolours may have overshadowed the fact that they exist as illustrated album leaves mass‫ޤ‬produced in China for the western market. On the other hand, it is also not always true that “the visibility of images” relies on “their transmission by a given medium in which they appear” (Belting 2005: 55). As a matter of fact, as we have seen in a number of circumstances, the authority of the medium itself in its own right—were this a rare Venetian lacquered cabinet or a precious Chinese porcelain vase—may completely obscure the cineserie images depicted on its surface. As I pay attention to the mechanisms by which images and their media are made visible or not visible and I try to identify the factors that trigger them, I cannot but reflect on a certain pattern that has been constantly re‫ޤ‬emerging in the previous chapters, too. In particular, I have ascertained how the interaction between cineserie and the specific local Italian settings in which they are exhibited determines most of all the way in which cineserie, themselves, are conceived and perceived. As shown by my case studies, the same trend applies to the images examined in this chapter. By considering this relationship as pivotal, it is then also possible to understand how the shifts in the visibility of the image and of its medium occur. In this regard, Wagner’s theory turns out to be a useful model again when I suggest that such perceptual shifts happen because the experience of an image is relative to both an individual and a collective sensorial conditioning (Wagner 1986a: 24‫ޤ‬25; 132). Without underestimating the relevance of the personal component in perception, it is on the collective element that I focus for the purpose of my analysis, as I argue at the same time that contextual and cultural relativity play a fundamental .

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part in the presentation and reception of images in relation to their media. This explains why, for instance, the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century elite concerned with the interior decoration of their palaces considered Chinese export watercolours on the whole in their nature of painted sheets that could be used as ornaments, while twenty‫ޤ‬first‫ޤ‬century scholars and museum‫ޤ‬goers predominantly look at the same kind of watercolours as visual representations that can be illuminating on aspects of Chinese traditional production activities. A similar criterion highlighting the influence of culture on the perception of images can be recognised if we investigate the reason why at the museum of Ca’ Rezzonico, where the emphasis is on local Venetian cultural and artistic history, chinoiserie images, with their characteristic themes, are overlooked by curators and visitors alike, while the piece of furniture on which such images appear is taken into great consideration. The manifold functions and effects of images of a Chinese entity as they have stood out in this chapter point at a dialogical connotation of these visual representations. It cannot be denied, as David Richards (1994: 289‫ޤ‬290) concludes in his analysis of cultural representations, that the production and—I would add—the contemplation of images of the Other entail a certain degree of “self‫ޤ‬reflection”. This is immediately manifest whether we consider images produced by Italians—such as the late medieval and Renaissance paintings, Fra Mauro’s map and even Luzzati’s illustrations—or we look at images produced by Chinese and integrated in Italian settings, especially in the context of museum displays so deeply rooted in the local historico‫ޤ‬cultural reality. Being already in an unstable relationship with their media and other forms of material representation, visual representations result from this study as particularly susceptible to the continuous tension and re‫ޤ‬balancing between different cultural identities, as the familiar mediates in the visual construction of the unfamiliar and the encounter with images of the Other is filtered through the experience of the individual and collective Self.

CHAPTER SIX ITALIAN LITERARY REPRESENTATIONS OF CHINA: DISPLAYING CHINA IN THE NARRATION— NARRATING CHINA IN THE DISPLAY

Introduction So far, the discussion has been primarily based on the analysis of the displays of objects and images through which ideas of China acquire a more tangible form and become more easily graspable. Yet, my investigation would remain incomplete if, at this point, I did not dedicate some space to literary representations of China. The latter are usually not immediately evident in exhibitive contexts, unless they appear as rare and ancient manuscripts or printed publications among other specimens. However, during my fieldwork, it has emerged that various literary texts of different times have played and still play an essential role in the way in which China is presented in Italian museums and temporary exhibitions. In this chapter, thus, I explain why it is possible to state that literary descriptions and narrations provide contexts, references and hints that not only contribute—more or less explicitly—to give shape to ideas of China in a display, but also put these ideas in a dimension beyond the circumstances of the display, in a much wider frame. The variability that I face in my research, as I consider representations provided by literary texts, images, objects and combinations of these media, mirrors a commonly recognised distinction that has long concerned those scholars dealing with aspects of the process of representation from various perspectives. In particular, focusing on the analysis of image and text and drawing on considerations such as Foucault’s observations on the “infinite relation” of language to painting (Foucault 1970: 9) and de Certeau’s theory of the “heterology of representation” (de Certeau 1986), Mitchell (1986; 1994) makes his point about the complexity of representative relationships. He observes that the boundaries between

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different types of representations are often blurred and states that the heterogeneity of representation is not limited to formal and structural characteristics but includes as well matters of perception and experience of Self and Other (Mitchell 1994: 4‫ޤ‬5). Moreover, he stresses that the comparative approach to representations is restricted by the underlying assumption of a “unifying, homogenous concept”, the neglect of other relations besides “comparison/contrast” and the historicist conception of the terms predominantly ordered in a past‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬present sequence (Mitchell 1994: 87). Especially relevant for my investigation is Mitchell’s alternative approach that looks at representations taking into account “the whole ensemble of relations” (Mitchell 1994: 89‫ޤ‬90) between them. As I identify similarities and analogies between literary representations and other types of representation, I also acknowledge variations and dissimilarities in their nature and manifestations. This awareness cannot but be reflected in the different ways in which I present and treat representations of various kinds, with the peculiarities in the organisation of materials and argumentations particularly noticeable in this chapter centred on ideas of China emerging from Italian literary texts. In the sections that follow I will take into consideration three medieval texts—Historia Mongalorum by Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine (1182‫ޤ‬1252), Il Milione by Marco Polo and Relatio by Odorico da Pordenone (1265‫ޤ‬1331)—that have been and still are particularly influential in the evolution of notions of China in Italy. The analysis of these texts will focus most of all on their relationship not only with modern texts that, in different ways, have been inspired by them, but also, and most significantly, with some of the exhibitions included in my fieldwork. It will be highlighted, in fact, how the legacy of information, assumptions, and representations transmitted by the ancient texts has affected the selection and arrangement of certain exhibits and some of the ideas of China that are inferred in these displays. Through these examples it will become gradually apparent that representations of China in texts and in museum displays, while implying a different set of perceptual and cognitive mechanisms, tools, and effects, can interact in such a way that, in certain cases, the narrative of the text and the narrative of the exhibition tend to link up inextricably.

Marco Polo’s China in Venice: a display today The analysis of the issues described above is based in particular on the case study that most clearly highlighted the relevance of literary representations in museum views of China: the exhibition Emanuele

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Luzzati: Il Milione di Marco Polo held at the Correr Museum. Already treated in the previous chapter for its emphasis on the display of images of China through Luzzati’s illustrations, this exhibition is here a crucial example for its focus on a literary text with significant references to China. The manner in which Il Milione guided through and held together the various sections of the exhibition sheds light on the particular mechanisms of perception and representation of cultural identities through narration. More precisely, it needs to be observed that three equally relevant and interacting narrative levels emerge from the exhibition. Of these, the one that is immediately identifiable for the museum‫ޤ‬goer is the narrative level of this specific event at the Correr Museum, in relation to the presentation of Il Milione. In its turn, Marco Polo’s work itself embodies the narrative level of the literary text. In addition, what gives the input and makes this presentation possible is the narrative function of the illustrations by Luzzati and all the objects and images displayed, which create a peculiar connection between the text and the museum’s settings. As for the arrangement of the specimens, it is necessary to point out that the objects of the permanent display were not completely removed from the rooms. Instead, they were just re‫ޤ‬located in order to create the necessary space to accommodate the objects of the exhibition. The various topics of the history of Venetian civilisation therefore became the natural background for the illustrations of Il Milione and the accompanying exhibits. The sequence and the combination of illustrations and objects made it clear that the aim was openly to convey to the visitors an association of ideas revolving around Venice and the Orient, and made inextricable by the thread physically and symbolically woven into Marco Polo’s journeys from Italy to China and back again. The fundamental role of the narrator and protagonist of Il Milione was immediately underlined in the first gallery: a wooden statue, traditionally thought to portray Marco Polo, introduces the display. The awareness of the origins of this statue is crucial to the understanding of the message transmitted through the statue itself and echoed all along the route of the exhibition. It was made in China as a copy of an image traditionally said to represent Marco Polo, which was kept in the Hualin si (Temple of the Flowery Grove) in Canton. The original gilded‫ޤ‬clay statue is part of a group of five hundred statues representing luohan—the Chinese word for the Sanskrit arhat—i.e. the enlightened disciples of Buddha. The hall in which they are placed was built in 1846 and it is likely that the statues were executed around that same time. The legend claiming the identity of Marco Polo for one of the statues is based on its vaguely foreign appearance. Yet, as reported by the sinologist Henri Cordier (1849‫ޤ‬1925),

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the anthropologist Berthold Laufer (1874‫ޤ‬1934) dismisses this speculation and identifies the statue with an Indian arhat wearing an unusual hat, perhaps arbitrarily added by the artist (Cordier 1920: 8‫ޤ‬11). The wooden copy of the pseudo‫ޤ‬Marco Polo of Canton had been commissioned by the mayor of Venice in 1881 on the occasion of a geographical exhibition. The realisation of the statue in the late nineteenth century could be said to have at least to purposes. The statue was meant to be an expression of the overall re‫ޤ‬evaluation of the Venetian’s scientific merits. At the same time, in the recently unified Kingdom of Italy, it was also the manifestation of the need to build a sense of bonding national pride around the image of the exceptional Italian traveller. After the introductory gallery, the visitor of the exhibition at the Correr Museum was continuously reminded of the manifold importance of Marco Polo’s text. The display of sixteenth‫ ޤ‬and seventeenth‫ޤ‬century printed editions of accounts and geographical treatises mainly by Italian and, in particular, Venetian travellers and cartographers indicated the wealth of literary production that developed in the footsteps of Marco Polo’s pioneering narration. Among these specimens, the two 1583 and 1606 reprints of the second volume of Delle navigationi et viaggi (Navigations and Travels, 1550‫ޤ‬1559) contain one of the most popular among the many existing versions of Il Milione. This is part of the three‫ޤ‬volume compilation of travel narratives realised by the geographer and secretary of the Venetian Senate Giovanni Battista Ramusio (1485‫ޤ‬1557). The rich collection of editions of Il Milione published in different languages in the time‫ޤ‬span between 1508 and 1937 was presented as an unequivocal sign of the long‫ޤ‬lasting and widespread popularity of Marco Polo’s text. The success of the latter was linked to the widely recognised reputation of Venice as an ancient centre of well‫ޤ‬established and flourishing trades with the Orient. Emphasis was given to the contacts with many important centres in the East, on the route towards China, at the time when the city was a maritime republic (mid‫ޤ‬twelfth century‫ޤ‬1797). Thus, alongside the various copies and versions of Il Milione, the display included objects such as: nautical instruments used by the Venetians seafarers; a fifteenth‫ޤ‬century Chinese porcelain bowl with blue floral decorations; eighteenth‫ޤ‬century Persian porcelain containers also with blue floral decoration, bearing signs of Chinese influence; seventeenth‫ޤ‬century leather quiver and flask of Turkish manufacture; fifteenth‫ޤ‬century Syrian brass incense burners and candleholders. On the one hand, the presentation of Marco Polo’s narration of his travels provided the opportunity to represent the historicity of the relationship between Venice and the East. On the other hand, what I intend

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to stress at this point is especially the function of the presentation of some passages from Marco Polo’s narration of his stay in the Chinese territory of the Mongols’ empire. This, accompanied by Luzzati’s illustrations and variously related objects like Chinese porcelain vessels—as already observed in the previous chapter—allowed highlighting the vision of China that emerged in the West from the acquaintance with the accounts by Marco Polo in particular and by other medieval travellers. Such a vision, despite being linked to ancient sources, has proved to be so powerful that its legacy still lingers in people’s imagination, as the exhibition at the Correr Museum shows. This example clearly brings to the fore the cognitive function of literary texts through the mimetic process of narration. By unfolding experiences and events and re‫ޤ‬organising them into a system by means of discourse, the narrator of the text, like the narrator of the exhibition, gives form and substance to deducted or constructed ideas. The resulting representations are not just unaffected replication of a given object of discussion. The latter, in fact, during the narrative process is transposed and redefined, so that the product of this mimetic exercise is something that, though bearing references to an already existing reality, is, at the same time, different from it. This point is clarified if we take into account Paul Ricoeur’s definitions of the Aristotelian concepts of mimesis and mythos in the context of narration as “imitation or representation of action” and “organization of the events” or “emplotment” (Ricoeur 1984 [1983]: 34, 31) respectively. In particular, according to a hermeneutical approach that considers the “practical experience” encompassing “works, authors, and readers”, Ricoeur (1984 [1983]: 53) highlights that all the operations of narration are linked together by the “textual configuration”, which mediates between the narrator’s “prefiguration” and the recipients’ “refiguration” of something. It is in this sense that, in the specific case of contacts between Italy and the Far East, the impact of medieval literary texts in the long and difficult process of identification and distinction of a Chinese entity can be recognised.

Shaping textual China The early awareness of China as a mysterious, far‫ޤ‬away realm is characterised by the scarcity of tangible cultural manifestations and direct experience of this remote geographical and cultural identity. The few luxury goods that, at first, made their way from China into Italy—most prominently silk—were determinant witnesses of the existence of their

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distant producers. Nonetheless, their quantity and variety was not enough to suggest more details about Chinese land and culture. For this reason, Italian literary descriptions—especially in the long period from Roman times to Renaissance—mirrored a preoccupation with the representation of the distant Oriental Other rather than with the perception of its concrete manifestations. The paucity of phenomenal participation and experience created the basic need to, first of all, physically construct China. For this purpose, imagination was used as equivalent to knowledge, in order to complement the meagre and not always reliable notions available. At the same time, the stranger and unknown was made understandable by association with and in conformity to the local and familiar. From a heterogeneous mixture of historical references, travel accounts, tales and myths, new suggestive realities emerged. These aroused bewilderment, curiosity, interest or even scepticism and fear in the audience, who had not the possibility to verify otherwise the information provided. In this sense, it could be argued that for the Italians of the Middle Ages China was “a textual universe by and large”, as Edward Said would put it (Said 1995 [1978]: 52). Yet, my use of this expression should be distinguished from Said’s use in respect to three specific points. Firstly, I do not refer it so categorically to more recent periods well into the nineteenth century. In fact, by that time, the textual knowledge of the Oriental Other was to different extents complemented by various alternative forms of knowledge acquired through more abundant material experiences and more frequent direct contacts. Secondly, while Said extends such a statement to a generalised Orient, I tend to apply it most of all to those parts of the Orient, like China, that had remained particularly obscure areas because of their geographical remoteness and the practical difficulties of interaction with European countries. I would therefore treat separately those parts of the Near and Middle East that had intense commercial relationships and established links especially with the Western Mediterranean region. It seems, lastly, that Said’s connotation of “the impact of the Orient ... through books and manuscripts” is excessively negative, since he juxtaposes it to what appears, from his words, a more favourable impact “as in the impress of Greece on the Renaissance, through mimetic artefacts like sculpture and pottery” (Said 1995 [1978]: 52). Contrarily to what Said suggests in this passage of his Orientalism, mimetic characteristics can be attributed not only to objects produced by artists and craftsmen, but also to texts. As already stressed above, the mimetic function of texts is even strengthened and made more relevant in particular when literary products constitute the main and most immediate representation of something. This explains why works such as Il Milione

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have attracted the attention of audiences across centuries and are still today at the centre of scholarly studies and debates for the image that they provide of realities of the Other. After limited and probably indirect trade during the first and second century AD, any contact of the Roman world—including the Italian peninsula—with the people inhabiting the eastern regions beyond the Red Sea gradually came to a halt already from the third century as travelling eastward was made more and more difficult. The Persians strengthened their role as intermediaries along the northern route, while the expansion of the Axumites first and of the Arabs from the seventh century blocked the southern route. For a long time, well into the Middle Ages, “Europe almost completely lost sight of the East” (Lach 1965: 22). It was only under changed international socio‫ޤ‬political circumstances in the thirteenth century that Europe had a new opportunity to establish direct connections with the East. This was the time when Chinese territories and European territories seemed to become closer to each other as the Mongols had conquered a big part of the lands of Central Asia and Eastern Europe before becoming rulers of China itself in 1279. The Mongol empire, in fact, had stretched as far west as to reach the Adriatic Sea by 1241. It has to be stressed that at this time Italy played a pivotal role in the development of this new relationship and in the propagation of new ideas and images of China. Besides a few literary references to a tentative identification and location of China and the Chinese in Roman times, such as brief mentions in the geographical works by Pomponius Mela66 (fl. 43 AD ca.), Strabo67 (63/64 BC‫ޤ‬24 AD ca.) and Ptolemy 68 (active second century AD), the earliest account in Europe to cast light on the peoples living in the far eastern regions was the Historia Mongalorum (History of the Mongols). This text was written by the Franciscan Friar Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine in 1247, on his return from his diplomatic mission to the Mongol Great Khan Kuyuk (reign 1246‫ޤ‬1248). As a matter of fact, Pope Innocent IV (1195‫ޤ‬1254) looked worryingly at the Mongols’ incursions in Dalmatia, in the area around Wien and, most dangerously, just outside Udine, a town in the north‫ޤ‬eastern part of Italy. It was feared that the belligerent invaders would have poured into the Italian peninsula, eventually occupying the Papal State. Hence, in the attempt to avoid this risk, in 1245 the Pope sent Friar Giovanni to the Mongols as ambassador. The Papal envoy had the task to negotiate peace with the Mongols and to try to divert their military efforts against Islamic territories.69 In the end, Friar Giovanni’s embassy resulted to be superfluous and unsuccessful. The infiltration into Italy would have never happened regardless: the Mongol army retreated in 1242

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because of the internal political crisis following the death of the Great Khan Ögödei (1185‫ޤ‬1241) and no further incursions on the far western borders were planned afterwards. Furthermore, Kuyuk Khan showed indifference—more than hostility—towards the Pope’s requests: he considered the Papal State on the same level as all other “barbarian” countries that were just expected to pay tributes and remain in a subservient position to the Mongol empire.70 Despite being a diplomatic failure, Giovanni’s expedition had at least one acknowledgeable positive outcome, namely the production of his report, an illuminating source of information on the Far East for the Europeans of his time. It is in this respect that the Historia Mongalorum bears great relevance to the discussion in this chapter. Lach (1965: 32) well summarises the novelty and merits of such a literary work: This book marks something of a transition in medieval literature on Asia, for it is primarily an itinerary and factual description of what he [Giovanni] and his companion [Friar Benedetto of Poland] saw, heard, and surmised.

What makes Giovanni such a special narrator is the fact that he was the first educated European with knowledge of other countries and cultures—at least within Europe—to reach on an official mission the heart of the Mongols’ homeland, having been received by the Great Khan in a settlement just south of the capital Karakorum. From his privileged point of view he was able to eventually provide details well beyond the previous scanty, uncertain notes on the exotic products and the location of lands at the eastern frontiers of the known world. It is immediately clear that the author deliberately gives the structure of a treatise to the first eight chapters of the Historia Mongalorum. In the initial part, in a sequence of four chapters, he describes geographical features, population, religion, customs, and habits. The data provided had been acquired through meticulous direct observation and had been purposely collected by Giovanni during his journey. It is likely that all the information was just stored somehow in his mind. For this reason, he drafted a first version of his account soon after his return to Lyon, in order to transcribe as many details as possible while they were still fresh in his memory. Only later he rearranged the materials in a more organic and literarily adequate form. In the final sentences of the work, the author himself writes (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 333): “after taking some rest, we have corrected and polished it [the account], improving it from the previous [version], left incomplete” [my translation].

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Although it is with no doubt too hazardous to consider Giovanni as an “ethnographer” ante litteram, it is plausible that the compilation of a treatise on the Mongols was part of the instructions given by the Pope. As a matter of fact, by knowing more about the mysterious, fierce people who were threatening the Italian territory, it would have been easier to predict their moves and confront them in battle in case of an attack. This is clearly expressed by the author (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 228): Once truthfully acknowledged their [the Mongols’] will and intention, we could reveal this to the Christians, so that in case of a sudden attack, they would not find themselves unprepared ... [my translation].

This underlying strategy explains why the first four chapters are followed by another four discussing, in this order, the Mongols’ political organisation, war methods, government policy in conquered lands and even possible ways to wage a war against them. It is only in chapter nine—the last one, amounting to almost a third of the whole text and added at a later stage—that Giovanni eventually narrates his journey. He, thus, leaves the format of the treatise for one closer to travel writing. By analysing the way in which the author makes himself visible or invisible throughout the Historia Mongalorum, it is possible to understand how he relates himself to the Other he is describing. Apart from the initial statement in the prologue, in which Giovanni briefly presents his mission, the circumstances and the aims, he almost completely disappears in the descriptive part. This choice shows a sense of detachment from the people he had found himself amongst. One gets, therefore, the impression that despite the genuine effort to acquire and report accurate information— “facta” (facts), as the author says (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 229)—about the Mongols, Giovanni cannot really comprehend a culture that he perceives as utterly alien from his own. Yet, he realises that knowledge is the only means to overcome the fear of the invaders from the East. The apprehension for the unfamiliar foreign menace is a recurrent motif. Giovanni specifies from the beginning that the Mongols he talks about are known as Tartars in Europe (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 227): “Here begins the history of the Mongols whom we call Tartars” [my translation]. This latter name, which he constantly uses throughout the text, derives from the Tatar, another population of Mongolian ethnicity. Europeans adopted it to indicate by extension all Mongolian peoples. Induced by the similarity of the sounds, they transformed it into Tartars, by association with Tartarus, the infernal regions of classical mythology. At a time when the Mongols were ravaging across Central Asia and Eastern Europe, this name seemed to

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well suit their reputation as cruel demons (Daffinà 1989: 422‫ޤ‬423). In this regard, already in the prologue we read (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 227): “It was in fact feared that because of them [Mongols] God’s Church would have been soon under the threat of a serious danger” [my translation]. This is why, in his function of authoritative informer, the friar makes his presence manifest especially in the chapters about military issues. As the only one to know more about the Mongols, he feels directly involved and responsible for the protection of his homeland. One of Giovanni’s main preoccupations is precisely that of being believed by his readers. He reiterates this concern with formulaic expressions in the prologue (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 227): Thus, if, in order to inform the readers, we write things that are not known where you are, you must not call us liars for this, since we report to you what we saw ourselves or what we heard as true from others whom we consider trustworthy ... [my translation].

As well as in the last chapter (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 330): “so that nobody may doubt about our journey to the Tartars, we write the names of those we met” [my translation]. As a consequence, in chapter nine the attention shifts towards Giovanni’s personal narrative. By attaching the mark of direct experience to his account, the author intends to confer credibility to all the factual data on the Mongols that he has provided in the previous sections. As he introduces the chapter, Giovanni (1989: 302) specifies that: Finally ... we will talk about the route we went along, of the position of the territories we passed through, of the arrangement of the emperor and his princes’ court ... [my translation].

If we consider this emphasis on space, place and location in the context of the whole account, it emerges that this means much more than the mere specification of geographical coordinates and spatial orientation. Tracing itineraries, circumscribing places and delineating boundaries are rather ways of configuring the unknown and fixing it into something more tangible and more manageable for our senses. In this particular case, Giovanni is trying, first of all, to represent the Mongols with reference to the space they live in, they occupy, they conquer. This space thus not only encapsulates but also embodies, or even stands for, their cultural identity. It is not by chance that the author chooses to start his report on the Mongols dedicating the first chapter to “De terra Tartarorum et situ et qualitate ipsius et dispositione aeris in eadem” (The territory of the

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Tartars: its position, characteristics and climate). Furthermore, in chapter seven he also includes a section in which he mentions all the territories that have been subjugated and those that oppose resistance (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 284‫ޤ‬291). What makes these spatial configurations culturally meaningful is the fact that they are presented as “placed experiences” (Feld and Basso 1996: 11). Hence, while space is used to give shape to a certain culture, it is, in its turn, given substance by the dynamic “experiential and expressive ways”—to quote Steven Feld and Keith Basso again—“places are known, imagined, yearned for, held, remembered, voiced, lived, contested, and struggled over” (Feld and Basso 1996: 11). Yet, all the various parts and emplacement operations in the account are held together and acquire depth primarily thanks to Giovanni’s constant presence—whether implicit or explicit—as observer and participant. In fact, he is able to experience different realities and describes them as he physically senses and moves in new spaces. It is especially in the last chapter that “the crucial interaction between body, space, and motion”—as Edward Casey (1996: 23) puts it—appears in its full significance on the perceptual and cognitive level. All what has been reported before had been apprehended while Giovanni was: moving from place to place, as he travelled from Lyon to the Mongols’ land and back, stage by stage through Eastern Europe and Central Asia; staying in the Mongols’ homeland; moving within this territory from one settlement to the other. In the light of the comments above, the fundamental and manifold relevance of the Historia Mongalorum in the changing mechanisms of approach to and perception of the Far East and its peoples—not only in medieval Italy, but also in medieval Europe—has by now become clear. However, it is still needed to address the issue of the importance of Giovanni’s literary work specifically with regard to the perception and representation of China and the Chinese. As we know from the narration, the friar only arrived up to the settlement just outside the Mongols’ capital and never reached China proper. However, the text contains a number of references from which it is evident that during his stay with the Mongols Giovanni had the opportunity to come into contact with Chinese people. Even if the information provided about them is not detailed, this mention is the first clear and direct one to this population in a European account. Moreover, it exercised a crucial influence on the rise of the interest and consideration towards China that started developing shortly afterwards with particular persistence especially in Italy.

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Giovanni identifies the northern Chinese as “Kitai”. This name derives—through the ancient Turkish “Qïtay”—from the Mongol “Kitat”, a Manchurian population that, after conquering the North‫ޤ‬eastern part of China, founded the dynasty called by the Chinese name Liao (907‫ޤ‬1125). Expanding to Turkestan and Siberia, the Liao Empire was the most extensive in East Asia during the tenth and eleventh centuries. For this reason, the ethnonym Kitai prevailed on all the other ones and continued to be used for the people of Northern China even after the fall of the Liao dynasty.71 The first reference to the Kitai comes early in Giovanni’s text, at the beginning of the first chapter. Again, the initial parameter to define them is a spatial one. Yet, he can specify their location just in relation to the reality he had been able to experience, namely that of the Mongols’ territory. For this reason, he can only ascertain that the land of the Kitai is beyond the Eastern borders of that of the Mongols (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 229). Although Giovanni is not aware of the exact extension of the territory of the Kitai, in chapter five he can inform us that most of it has been occupied by the Mongols (1989: 256‫ޤ‬257). It is from this narration of the military campaign that a portrait of the Kitai people gradually emerges, constructed by comparison with the cultural realities he knows better, that is the Mongols’ one and his own one. The reader thus gets the idea of a brave population that has not easily surrendered but has strenuously fought back, though eventually defeated by the ruthless and cruel invaders. Between the lines, the audience is also left with the impression of a wealthy country, for the capital city of the Kitai is described as very rich. Giovanni (1989: 257‫ޤ‬258) must have held the Kitai in great consideration if, right after the account of the conquest by the Mongols, he dedicates an entire paragraph to present all the knowledge he has acquired about them: The Kitai, about whom we have discussed, are pagans who have their own [religious] literature, namely a new and an old Testament and they also have the lives of the Fathers and hermits as well as houses with the function of churches where they pray at set hours. They say that they revere some saints. They worship only one God, they honour the lord Jesus Christ and they believe in eternal life, but they are not baptised. They respect and honour our Scripture, they are friendly towards Christians and they often give alms. They seem quite mild and civilised people; they have no beard and in the features of the face resemble the Mongols, though the face is not as wide. They have their own language. In the world there are no better artisans in all the activities usually carried out by men. Their land is rich in wheat, wine, gold, silver and silk

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as well as in all those products essential to the subsistence of human beings [my translation].

Another element from Giovanni’s references to China that needs to be addressed is the lack of the conception of this geographical entity as a united country. As a matter of fact, in chapter seven, the list of all the peoples subjected by the Mongols includes the Kitai, while the list of the countries that are still resisting the invasion contains the name Mangia (Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine 1989: 289‫ޤ‬290). The latter refers to the southern part of China that at the time of Giovanni’s visit was still under the control of the Chinese Song dynasty. The term “Mangia” is the transliteration and adaptation of the Chinese word “manzi”, a derogatory appellation used by northern Chinese and adopted by the Mongols to indicate southern Chinese as “rough people”. 72 From this distinction it appears that Giovanni’s idea of the territories actually covered by China fully reflects the Mongols’ perspective. Thus, the land of the Chinese is once again assumed to consist of two separate countries, that of the Kitai and that of the Mangi, though nothing is ascertained about their boundaries and their mutual relationship. In this regard, it is worth pointing out that the problems and difficulties linked to the physical delimitation and cultural configuration of China are dependent on interlinked issues of perceptions of the Other and the Other’s space. Following the need of the human mind to find an order and classify the surrounding world, this process is part of the attempt to create a comprehensive cosmology. Such an operation—Stephen Feuchtwang (2004: 20) stresses—is not only a manner of “finding common concepts, notions of causation, metaphors, distinctive ways of being human, of organising space and of calibrating time in these representations”, but also—and not less importantly—a mode of “observing the physical universe”. The latter term is here used in the sense of the notion of “territorial place” discussed by Feuchtwang (2004: 3‫ޤ‬30) as a more or less circumscribed or open expanse imbued of specificity and particular identity, yet in a wider picture of interactions and associations. Thanks to Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine, the identity of the Chinese and their territories starts acquiring substance on its own. However, it cannot be denied that this information is full of confusions and misinterpretations. As Bertuccioli and Masini (1996: 49) point out, Giovanni does not recognise and distinguish between Nestorianism, Confucianism and Taoism and assimilates all the signs of these doctrines to the manifestations and practices he is familiar with, namely those of Catholic Christianity. This process is triggered by the lack of any in‫ޤ‬depth knowledge of the Kitai’s culture and is conditioned by the mental

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schemata of a medieval Italian friar. What should be rather acknowledged is the pioneering effort to construct a picture—as accurate and complete as possible—of a previously unknown Other. On the basis of this picture the Italians of the Middle Ages and afterwards will, more or less consciously, elaborate their image of China. Hopeful for the favourable attitude and religious affinities assumed, the Popes of subsequent times will be sending numerous missionaries in the attempt to convert the Chinese to Christianity. Likewise, attracted by the prospect of lucrative profits, many merchants will venture on long, dangerous journeys in search for the mentioned plentiful resources of China.

Narrating China: travel in space, in time, through media Despite the essential role of Giovanni’s experience and account in the conception of the Far East not only in Italy but also in the rest of Europe, the Historia Mongalorum as a literary work has always been overshadowed by Marco Polo’s Il Milione. The popularity of the latter can be justified by a number of rather evident factors, which are discussed below. Dictated by Marco Polo to the writer Rustichello as they were both in a Genoese prison between 1298 and 1299, 73 the account started circulating at the beginning of the fourteenth century in Italy as well as around Europe. Transmitted from copier to copier, it was reproduced in different versions and translated into different languages from the original form of literary French intermixed with numerous Italianisms and Venetianisms.74 Whether considered as a trustworthy, illuminating account, as a product of fantasy, or as a mixture of reality and invention, Marco Polo’s Il Milione has inspired an idea of the Far East that has dominated the imagination of the Europeans for centuries and is still alive at various levels in a collective popular culture. The immediate great impact of this literary work is in great part due to the fact that it was the first text to report on Cathay and Mangi—as Marco Polo calls the territories of China—as a main topic and as a result of direct experience. In this respect, it has been long recognised that one of the merits of Il Milione is its fundamental contribution to a big step forward in the geographical knowledge of medieval Europe (Lach 1965: 36; Solmi 1974: IX‫ޤ‬X). Furthermore, the way in which the account was structured appealed to both those attracted by the adventure of travel and those interested in compilations with didactic purposes, two trends in literature that developed towards the late Middle Ages and in the Renaissance period. Another key element that explains the quick and wide diffusion of this work can be found in the original title Divisament dou monde (Description

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of the World). As a matter of fact, Marco Polo himself specifies in the “Prologue” that the book is directed to the “people of all degrees who desire to get knowledge of ... the diversities of the sundry regions of the World”, since they will “find therein ... the divers histories of the Great Hermenia, and of Persia, and the Land of the Tartars, and of India, and of many another country” (Yule 1903: 1). 75 The accent is, hence, on difference, on the distinction between the Self and the Others. Marco Polo’s use and meaning of difference and comparison between his own people and other peoples have been the focus of scholarly debates, even creating academic controversies. Yet, one must be cautious when dealing with this essential element in the author’s perception and description of the populations he came in contact with. In this regard, it is necessary to contextualise—as I do below—Marco Polo’s conception of difference and the paradigm on which this is based. The emphasis of scholars is, in some cases, too fixed on politicised and generalised issues of power and superiority. According to Syed Manzul Islam (1996), for instance, Marco Polo emerges as an “Orientalist” in the sense that Said gives to this word. He claims that people’s habits and customs are narrated in such a way that aims at constructing the image of a powerless and diminished Other in the light of a biased western dichotomy between good Christians and bad non‫ޤ‬Christians. In his own words, Islam (1996: 165‫ޤ‬166) says: The making of relative difference, ... not only dramatises the otherness of others but subjects this otherness to an evaluative judgement. Marco Polo gives his readers a panorama of transgressive topoi with their rude chaos and abomination which deterritorialises other habitudes...

However, it should be noticed that, for an average man of medieval Europe, with no high education, and no discipline for scientific rigour, imbued of the unquestionable values of a rigidly Christian society, Marco Polo mostly presents other peoples and their way of life in a fairly neutral manner. Although negative comments can be found in the text, appreciative remarks are not absent either. As John Larner (1999: 98) counters Islam’s argument: As to diet, it is true that Marco reports unkindly on what was eaten in Quinsai (CLII, 20): ‘They eat any flesh, that of dogs and any other brute beasts and animals that no Christian would eat for anything in the world’. Yet who reading that chapter can doubt but that Marco has the most profound admiration for the city and in many respects for its people?

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If an Orientalist discourse for Il Milione is out of question, the hypothesis that Marco Polo is juxtaposing all the oriental populations he describes to a unitary collective entity of Europeans of which he feels part (Solmi 1974: 10; Gosman 1994: 75‫ޤ‬76) seems also not accurate. Having left for his long journey to the East when he was only seventeen years old, and having returned to Italy twenty‫ޤ‬six years later, it is likely that Marco Polo found himself in a situation by which he felt a foreigner while abroad and he could never completely re‫ޤ‬integrate once back in his hometown. Thus, considering his personal circumstances and the Italian situation of political fragmentation at the time, it appears much more plausible that in the account he tries to re‫ޤ‬assert his identity as a Venetian rather than situating himself in a wider collective scenario for him difficult to recognise. In the “Prologue” he refers to himself as a “messer Marco Polo, a wise and noble citizen of Venice” (Yule 1903: 1).76 In the course of the narration, he mentions Venice and the Venetians a number of times and at the very end, he defines himself again as “messer Marco, son of messer Niccolò Polo, noble and great citizen of the city of Venice” [my translation] (Ponchiroli 1974: 225). This last observation brings us back to consider the fact—already emerged at the beginning of this chapter—that Il Milione is, first of all, the literary product of a Venetian. Therefore, as the bond between the author and his city has been strengthened and perpetuated through the centuries up to our times, Marco Polo’s personal experience with the East in general and China in particular has become emblematic of the special connection of Venice as a whole with those same places and their peoples. This phenomenon of commutative relationships that reinforce the local identity by stressing a particular link with a specific Other is very clearly illustrated by exhibitions like the one at the Correr Museum—discussed above—on Marco Polo, Venice and the Orient. What still needs to be addressed is the mechanism by which Marco Polo and his extraordinary connection with China has been transformed by extension into an important component of national cultural heritage. As it has been anticipated earlier in the chapter, this process took place soon after the Italian political unification. In fact, a collective cultural identity was gradually built, feeding on strong local cultural symbols and linking them to each other. This explains the peculiar Italian reactions as far as the consideration of Marco Polo’s experience is concerned. In this regard, while from time to time some scholars—especially outside Italy—propose their doubts about the truthfulness of Il Milione, Italian critics tend, instead, to dismiss these claims of suspicion.

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The study that has raised most turmoil in this sense among the experts of the field is Did Marco Polo Go to China? by Frances Wood (1995). In this publication, the author, inspired by the writings of the German Mongolist Herbert Franke (1966), suggests that the inconsistencies and omissions about China in Marco Polo’s account may indicate that he had never actually visited the places he describes. In the concluding remarks of her discussion, she strongly holds this sceptical position: “... I incline to the view that Marco Polo himself probably never travelled much further than the family’s trading posts on the Black Sea and in Constantinople ... (Wood 1995: 150).77 Yet, Bertuccioli and Masini (1996: 52‫ޤ‬53, 59‫ޤ‬60) are quick to counter‫ޤ‬argue, stating that some scholars’ speculations about Il Milione being mostly the fruit of invention or second‫ޤ‬hand information have grown in recent years as a fashion or a publicity stunt. Furthermore, no doubts about the veracity of the account transpire through the Italian exhibitions dedicated to, inspired by or related to the theme of Marco Polo’s travels and his stay in China. For instance, the public educational purpose underlying in the 2005‫ޤ‬2006 exhibition in Venice is revealed by the choice of presenting the experience of the Venetian traveller through the images produced by Luzzati, an artist specialised in didactic illustrated publications for the young. Likewise, the scientific certainty with which Marco Polo’s story is treated is evident also in the exhibition Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli in Treviso, where the last gallery was specifically arranged on the theme of “Marco Polo”. The display included objects suggestive of the Venetian’s experience in Yuan‫ޤ‬period China and of the commercial contacts between China and the West at that time. Besides some gilded bronze figurines representing western travellers, there were the rare specimens of a paiza—a silver tablet issued by the Great Khan to his guests as a special passport—and a printed paper banknote that could be used for trade exchange in all the territories under the Yuan control. The relevance of both these items in the context of the gallery is also due to the fact that the first known mention of them in western sources is to be found in Il Milione. Copies of various editions of the latter—with a Chinese translation, as well—and a map of Marco Polo’s travel itineraries are displayed in the final cases towards the exit. At the very end of the route, the last object to be admired is the original document of the Venetian’s will. The text on the parchment contains only one faint reference to the stay in China: at Marco Polo’s death, his Tartar slave Pietro was granted freedom and given remuneration for his work. Yet, this is probably the only certain trace of the Venetian survived to these days and the most tangible extant link between the illustrious traveller and Yuan China.

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With regard to this exhibition, it is also worth pointing out that the choice of the “Marco Polo” theme for the last gallery and the position of the objects are evocative of a specific message for the visitors. This result was not deliberately sought after by the organisers but appears rather as the product—difficult to avoid—of an almost unconscious cultural conditioning. In fact, the curator Adriano Màdaro, explained to me that while the main protagonists of the exhibition were the foreign dynasties of China, the last visual impressions proposed a topic that the public would have expected to find at some point along the route. Thus, the widespread ideas linked to Marco Polo as a local/national symbol and an emblem of Italy’s special, deeply rooted relationship with China are recalled also on the occasion of this display. Such views are, nowadays, stronger more than ever, since the encounter with Chinese cultural reality is becoming an increasingly pressing issue in Italy. The growing number of Chinese immigrants in Italian cities and towns is, in fact, creating the need of the local communities for better intercultural communication and understanding. Among the initiatives promoted by the Italian government in order to achieve these purposes, there is the educational strategy of improving socio‫ޤ‬cultural integration and dialogue of the younger generations. This is why, the occasion of the celebrations for the 750th anniversary of Marco Polo’s birth—the same that inspired the exhibition at the Correr Museum—served as motivation to promote the project “Avviciniamo la Cina con Marco Polo” (Let’s make China closer with Marco Polo) in the school‫ޤ‬year 2004‫ޤ‬2005. According to the official protocol issued by the Ministry of Education, all the Italian schools were invited to submit specific works produced by pupils on the theme of China’s contacts with Italy and the rest of Europe in our times. The document, underlining the “highly cultural value of the initiative”, reads: The occasion, offered to the schools by the celebration of the 750th anniversary of Marco Polo’s birth—privileged witness, as yesterday as today, of intercultural relationships between West and East, aiming at peaceful and productive cooperation—encourages the re‫ޤ‬reading of il Milione, also available in various editions reduced and adapted for children. Moreover, it favours the realisation of cross‫ޤ‬projects that, starting from a more general reflection on travel as discovery, may involve first of all disciplines such as Geography and History, as well as themes related to the promotion of development and social co‫ޤ‬existence [my translation].78

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Having discussed the role of Il Milione in relation to the formation of local and national identity in the Italian context, it is now necessary to return to the content of the literary text and consider the image of China emerging from it, besides the distinction of Cathay and Mangi. In fact, it is well known that Marco Polo’s account owes its fame to the reputation of being the earliest more specific and abundant source of information about the territories of China. Yet, it should be pointed out that the part concerning China occupies only the middle section of the narration, running from chapter 64 to chapter 136 of the total 183 chapters in the version of “l’Ottimo”. 79 The preceding part contains the account of the Venetian’s journey and stay at the service of the Great Khan, information about Central Asia and details on the Mongols’ history, policies, traditions and way of life. The final part is dedicated to the islands of the “Sea of Chin”, India and those parts of the Middle East under the Mongols’ control. Two main factors can explain the prominence of the description of China over the rest of the account: one is linked to Marco Polo’s perception through his personal experience; the other depends on the readers’ perception conditioned by the growing commercial and missionary interests at the time of the early circulation of Il Milione. As for the first factor, what is essential to stress is the fact that during his long stay in China, Marco Polo was in close contact in particular with the Mongol rulers. For this reason, his view of the Chinese territories and people was strongly influenced by the perspective of the Mongols, as it had happened before in the case of Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine. However, differently from his predecessor, his appreciative attitude towards the Mongols derives from his cooperative relationship with them in his capacity of administrative officer for the Yuan government. At the same time, his admiration for China developed under the effect of changed political circumstances. Having finally gained control of the whole of China, the Mongols underwent themselves a process of sinicisation in order to affirm their authority over the Chinese.80 So strong has remained in people’s imagination the connection between Mongols and China transmitted through medieval texts up to our times, that it still inspires exhibitions such as the already mentioned Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli. Describing the main purpose of the exhibition, Màdaro pointed out that through the display of an extensive array of unique and precious objects showing different cultural features, he intended to highlight a succession of four centuries of foreign dynasties on the Chinese scenario and hence the heterogeneity and dynamism in Chinese cultural history. He emphasised that he aimed at showing the historical and cultural role and

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impact of the Mongols of the Yuan dynasty as well as that of other non‫ޤ‬ethnic Chinese peoples—especially of Tungusic and Tibetan ethnicity—that ruled before the Mongols, like the Khitan of the Liao Dynasty (907‫ޤ‬1125), the Jürchen of the Jin Dynasty (1115‫ޤ‬1234), the Tanguts of the Xi Xia Dynasty (1038‫ޤ‬1227). In particular, he wanted to illustrate how “foreigners became sinicised once turned into dynasties” as well as how “they brought their cultural contribution to the big family of China”. Suddenly opened by the westward expansion of the Mongol Empire, right up to the borders of the Italian peninsula—though only for a short period—the contact with China aroused initially fear and subsequently enthusiasm for what appeared as the wonders of Cathay and Mangi. It must have certainly been a difficult task for the author and the readers of Il Milione to express and comprehend respectively by means of a textual description realities that had not been contemplated before. Thus, as it is evident, the most effective and direct way to transmit and gather a sense of China was through specific empirical data. These would in turn suggest broader and more conceptualised representations, in a chain of analogical and comparative processes. These mechanisms are clearly at work in the descriptions of the cities of Cathay and Mangi—with their layout, architecture and inhabitants—as Marco Polo accompanies his audience along fictitious itineraries leading from one place to another. In particular, more abundant details are provided about Cambaluc, the seat of the Great Khan, and Chinsai, defined as “the most noble and best city in the world” [my translation] (Ponchiroli 1974: 149). Only for these two cities indications are provided about the measurement of their perimeter. This is in both cases exaggerated in order to stress their supremacy in relation to other cities in China as well as in Europe. Just from the physical elements described for each of the two cities, it is possible to construct a precise picture of their respective role in the elaborated structure of Yuan China. On the one hand, in the description of Cambaluc, in Cathay, the emphasis is on the splendour and opulence of the imperial residence, of which it is said: the walls of the halls and the rooms are entirely covered in gold and silver; ... the main hall is so long and wide that six thousand people can easily eat in it; and there are so many rooms that it is a wonder to believe ... The external surface is so well varnished that shines like gold or crystal, so that the palace can be seen glittering from a long distance [my translation] (Ponchiroli 1974: 81).

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Of the city itself, it is highlighted that it contains many impressive buildings and that it is fortified with a thick earthwork. Besides the extraordinary fortification, twelve thousand horsemen protect the court. The image suggested by the words in Il Milione is that of a powerful and wealthy capital city, majestic centre of an effective and sophisticated government. On the other hand, the presentation of Chinsai aims at providing a completely different picture. Of this city it is said that: it has twelve thousand stone bridges ... And nobody has to marvel at this, since it is all in water and surrounded by water, and this is why there are so many bridges, so to go across the whole land ... In the city there are many beautiful houses and towers of thick stone where people take their things in case of a fire in the city, which often happens, because there are many wooden houses ... And all the roads of the city are paved with stones and bricks ... so that it is possible to run along them by horse and also on foot ... And I also tell you that this city has even three thousand public baths where men and women enjoy themselves; and they go there very often, since they have it as a habit to keep their bodies clean: and these are the most beautiful and biggest baths in the world, for a hundred people can comfortably use them at the same time ... [my translation] (Ponchiroli 1974: 150‫ޤ‬151).

As for its inhabitants, they are said to be mostly skilled artisans and rich merchants, who provide abundant commodities across the country. In fact, “the Great Khan makes sure that [the city] is well guarded, since it is the main city of all the province of the Mangi, and he gains from it so much profit that it would be barely believable” [my translation] (Ponchiroli 1974: 151). The city’s vibrant commercial activity also benefits from the proximity to the town of Ganfu, a coastal town not identified with certainty. The overall impression of Chinsai is thus that of an efficiently organised and sophisticated city, with political power, economic prosperity and dynamic trade and connections with the rest of the country and overseas. Apart from these two cases, the description of all the many Chinese cities mentioned by Marco Polo is much sketchier, referring to some essential data on population, economy, products and customs. Yet, both the hyperbolic expressions and the formulaic structure used to represent all the cities have played a substantial role in affirming the characteristic, vivid images of China, such as those of the imperial palace at Cambaluc and the water canals in Chinsai depicted by Luzzati. At the same time, it should be noticed that what Marco Polo could share with his audience was only the text as a representation of his synaesthetic experience, but not the

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actual experience itself. For this reason, as time has gone by, it has become easier, under certain circumstances, to deliberately detach the literary description from the phenomenical elements described. By doing so, the text retains its powerful influence, but the image evoked loses its specificity. In this respect, the textual structure initiated by Marco Polo offers itself to undergo a process in some ways comparable to the Saussurean distinction of language and speech (Saussure 1959: 7‫ޤ‬17). On the one hand, the text acquires the autonomy of a language of its own, the original inferences of which are collectively understood. On the other hand, it then becomes instrumental for the individual agent speaker to construct and transmit different images. The clearest example of such a process is “Le città invisibili” (Invisible Cities) by Italo Calvino (1923‫ޤ‬1985). This literary work, first published in 1972, is presented by the author himself as follows: Le città invisibili unravels itself as a series of travel accounts that Marco Polo tells to Kublai Khan emperor of the Tartars ... It was not my intention to follow the itineraries of the lucky Venetian merchant who in the thirteenth century had arrived in China ... Now the Orient is a theme that has to be left to the experts, and I am not such. However, through the centuries there have been poets and writers who have found inspiration in Il Milione as a fantastic and exotic scenography ... Only The Arabian Nights can claim a similar fate: books that become as imaginary continents in which other literary works will find their space; continents of the ‘somewhere else’, today that, it can be said, the ‘somewhere else’ does not exist any more and the whole world tends to become uniform [my translation] (Calvino, 1993 [1972]: VII‫ޤ‬VIII).81

From descriptions of Chinese cities to reflections on the utopia of non‫ޤ‬existing cities and the crisis of existing modern cities the leap is certainly big. As Calvino suggests, in our times it is not any more the task of Il Milione, or of any literary work inspired by it to provide images and ideas of China. Other more substantial and tangible means are now available for this purpose. Rather, Marco Polo’s China is left with the function of constituting a frame, made of memory and intermingling identities—past, present and projected into the future—to support new contents. It is in this perspective that the China of Il Milione appears in Calvino’s work, as the conversations between Marco Polo and the Great Khan become the connecting thread between one invisible city and the other. No longer sufficient in its original role, Il Milione is nevertheless still necessary. In the opening pages of his own work, Calvino states: “Only in Marco Polo’s accounts was Kublai Khan able to discern, through

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the walls and towers destined to crumble, the tracery of a pattern so subtle it could escape the termites’ gnawing”.82 Such a mechanism emerges as particularly significant in other modern literary products by Italian authors that have as inspirational background major medieval Italian texts on the theme of the Far East. As a matter of fact, the Italian writer Dino Buzzati (1906‫ޤ‬1972) re‫ޤ‬proposes the underlying motif of the already mentioned Historia Mongalorum in his Il deserto dei Tartari (The Tartar Steppe). Written in 1940, at a time when Italy was going to enter the scene of World War II, the distant memory of the Mongols’ threat on the borders of the Italian peninsula seems rather evocative. In this regard, the choice of this specific reference may have been dictated by a certain degree of personal involvement on the part of Buzzati himself. In fact, he was born near Belluno, just North West of Udine, the town that had directly experienced the danger of an imminent attack by the Mongols. Furthermore, being Venetian from his mother’s side, Buzzati must have felt himself as a legitimate cultural heir of that special link with China that Venice had been claiming since the time of the Mongol Empire. The atmosphere in Il deserto dei Tartari—considered to be the author’s narrative masterpiece—seems to have been transposed straight from the Historia Mongalorum: the anxiety, fear, and curiosity triggered by the Tartars coming from unexplored steppes are very much alive throughout the narration. Even the correspondence between the name of the protagonist, Giovanni Drogo, and that of the brave friar, Giovanni dal Pian del Carpine, is more than a pure coincidence. The tension is always palpable in the wait of something that is suspended between reality and imagination: So here there was an unfinished story—what had up to yesterday evening been absurd, a ridiculous superstition might be true then. Drogo seemed to feel them, the mysterious Tartars, lurking among the bushes, in the crevices of the rocks, motionless and silent with clenched teeth. They were waiting for the dark to attack. And meantime others were arriving, a threatening swarm coming slowly out of the northern mists. They had no bands nor songs, no gleaming swords, no fine banners. Their arms were dull so as not to glint in the sun and their horses were trained not to neigh.83

Similar to this must have been the disposition of thirteenth‫ޤ‬century people living around Buzzati’s native territory: an ideal source of inspiration for an author who is renowned for his favourite technique of drawing from the real for his stories, which are dream‫ޤ‬like, yet never completely alienated from reality. Therefore, as in Calvino’s case, the

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vivid memory of the ancient connection between Italians and the empire of the Mongols becomes a timeless and spaceless context to suggest the writer’s critical impressions on various aspects of military life. This thematic background appears all the more significant if it is taken into account the fact that in early 1940s’ Italy, Buzzati could not express himself explicitly because of the Fascist censorship. Having widely discussed Marco Polo’s Il Milione, there is one more literary text that needs to be addressed in the context of this research before drawing my conclusions. Another eminent medieval instance that has lent itself to the process illustrated above—though with a certain degree of variation—is that of the Relatio (Account)—also known as De rebus incognitis (The Unknown)—by the Franciscan friar Odorico da Pordenone. This literary text, written just about thirty years later than Il Milione, is the account of the missionary’s journey to China during the 1320s and is reputed to be “second only in popularity to Marco Polo’s” (Lach 1965: 41). Besides its relevance as an essential reference work on China especially throughout the late Middle Ages and Renaissance, the Relatio is particularly relevant to this discussion for its peculiar character, which has determined the modality and the purpose of its modern re‫ޤ‬elaboration. Dictated to Friar Guglielmo di Solagna in Padua, soon after the return from the East, this oral narration—differently from the other medieval texts analysed—contains Odorico’s memories of his stay in Mati—for Mangi—and Catayo—i.e. Cathay—including some information about the Great Khan and his empire. 84 Data on other places visited outside Chinese territories and on the travel to and from China are minimal. Moreover, even if the text’s structure roughly follows the convention of describing various cities and important locations encountered en route—as in Il Milione—the style of the account is much more personal: the first‫ޤ‬person narrator makes his presence in the facts narrated always evident, so that what he tells spontaneously appears as the result of direct experience. This is the case, for example, of the description of the particular technique of fishing with cormorants, which Odorico witnessed on a river in an unspecified city. ... I arrived in a city, through which this river ran, and I crossed a very big bridge; to the end of it there was a hostel, where I stayed. The landlord, who wanted to be nice to me, said: if you want to see fishing, come with me; and so he took me over the bridge. And from there, I saw cormorants tied at bars in the boats; their owner fastened a thread to the throat of each of them so that they could not swallow the fish ... and after doing so, released these cormorants, which threw themselves into the

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water and caught many fishes, putting them into the baskets ... I ate some of this fish [my translation].85

Odorico’s first‫ޤ‬hand impressions on China are also characterised by frequent references to realities of his homeland with which he is more familiar. He uses this descriptive device especially when mentioning geographical features (Odorico da Pordenone 1982: 42‫ޤ‬50). The size of cities is thus often compared to that of Italian cities known to him: “... in this province of Mati there are two hundred great cities, which are so big that neither Trevisi nor Vicenza could be numbered among them” [my translation]. A few lines below, he tells of a city not clearly identified: “The first city that I found in this province is called Censscanlan, and it is as big as three Vinegie [Venices]...” [my translation]. Further in the text he describes Zaiton “... as big as two Bologne” [my translation]. He then compares to Venice the city of Cansave—equivalent to Marco Polo’s Chinsai—“located in the waters of the Lagoon” [my translation]. Likewise, he tells of the river Caramoran, namely the Yellow River: “running through Catayo”, it is said to cause “serious damages when it floods, as the Po does to Ferrara” [my translation]. The specific nature of comments and comparisons makes it more difficult than with texts such as Historia Mongalorum and Il Milione to detach the content of the narration—mainly the description of China— from Odorico’s personal experience and from the connection with medieval Italy. This peculiarity, in my opinion, accounts for the kind of message and literary re‫ޤ‬elaboration that this medieval narration—more strongly than others—has inspired in our times. The work that needs to be considered in this respect is the novel Il filo di seta (The Silk Thread) written in 1999 by the Italian author Carlo Sgorlon (born 1930). Being the latter from Cassacco, a town in the province of Udine, we find thus once again—as in the previously examined case of Buzzati—a writer who feels close to the theme he treats and the figure he describes. More precisely, he recognises an affinity with Odorico, who was born near Pordenone, a city in the proximity of Udine: fellow citizens of the region of Friuli Venezia Giulia, they both belong to those territories once under the threat of Mongol invasion. While re‫ޤ‬tracing, in a novelised format, the friar’s life and adventurous travel to China, 86 Sgorlon puts an accent on Odorico’s personal perception of and relationship with the Mongols and the Chinese as affected by the times and places in which he lived. Initially, the author thus narrates of the child Odorico fantasising on the still echoing accounts and tales about the Mongols’ military campaigns just beyond the borders a few decades earlier. This is exemplified in the episode of the conversation

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with an old soldier, who, asked by Odorico, tells him that strange creatures like “the hippogryphs, in case they existed, were ... in the northern lands, of which very little was known. Those lands had become part of the Mongols’ empire”. The soldier then adds: “... And I’ve known someone who has seen the Mongols and has fought against them...” [my translation] (Sgorlon 1999: 43). From the man’s words, Odorico gathers that: The Mongols had an immense thirst for conquest ... In war they were terrible especially on horse ... So now there was the peace that they had themselves imposed. But surely they had not given up their imperial dream, and one day they would have returned to Germany, to the French, Spanish and Italian States, and would have completed the interrupted conquest ... [my translation] (Sgorlon 1999: 44‫ޤ‬45).

However, years later, Odorico—already a friar—changes his impressions in the light of the new information reported by missionaries: The big spell of conquest was over, and Kublai Khan ... was old and close to death. So, perhaps, a new era was rising at the horizon for the Mongols’ empire. It was the time of the wait for the Gospel. The crowds of Cathay and Mongolia were awaiting ... [my translation] (Sgorlon 1999: 104).

Another substantial turn in Odorico’s views can happen only when he personally experiences the reality of Cathay and Mangi. Sgorlon summarises the direct impact of the latter on the friar’s perception, as he describes the arrival in the first Chinese city: “So he could closely observe the city and get a definite idea of it. The city was very big, clean, tidy ... Everything recalled the presence of order and careful surveillance” [my translation] (Sgorlon 1999: 216). Consequently, while travelling across China, Odorico has the opportunity to acknowledge the cultural sophistication of the Chinese and efficient rule of the Mongols. Overall, through the narration, Sgorlon highlights how Odorico’s observations are imbued of a unique value with regard to their exceptional contribution to the knowledge of China. A sense of admiration and pride transpires throughout Il filo di seta, since the author perceives the friar as a cultural hero of Friuli Venezia Giulia. In fact, Odorico da Pordenone is a perfect protagonist for the novel of a writer who has devoted most of his literary works to the construction of an epic cycle centred on the history and traditions of his own homeland. This approach towards the Relatio leads us to consider the ambivalent function of this medieval literary text. Originally, it owed its fame to its relevance in the construction of an image of China. However, in time, as

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the latter started taking shape in the Italians’ minds through other means and channels, the role of this account has been slowly shifting. As a consequence, Odorico and his experience have nowadays become also meaningful in the context of the affirmation of both local and national cultural identity. It is in virtue of this status of cultural property that the figure of this friar from Pordenone and his narration have been presented again in the last few decades with renewed emphasis. Already in 1982, a publication of an Italian and Latin version of the text has been sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce, Industry, Crafts ,and Agriculture of Pordenone. In this regard, the introductory statement by Paolo Musolla (1982: 6), then president of this institution, is particularly enlightening: We owe part of what we know about fourteenth‫ޤ‬century China to the Relatio by Odorico da Pordenone. It followed only thirty years after the appearance of Marco Polo’s Il Milione, the information of which it mostly confirmed. Although different as for purposes, literary results, narrated experiences and authors’ routes towards Asia, the two works contribute to offer an extraordinarily vivid picture of Chinese realm and to bear evidence of the exceptional presence of people from Italy, and most of all from the Venetian area, in Yuan Dynasty China [my translation].

These remarks take us back full circle to what was introduced by the case study at the beginning of this chapter. The message emerging from the exhibition at the Correr Museum is not just a peculiar manifestation limited to the theme and circumstances of a specific display, but it is rather an expression of a much more widespread and comprehensive tendency traceable across types and modes of representation. The emphasis on more immediately recognisable representations of the Other, often—as it is increasingly clear in texts of our times—turns out to overlap with, accompany and even contribute to the assemblage and re‫ޤ‬combination of representative elements that ultimately refer to the Self as it emerges in its relationship with the Other.

Conclusion As clarified at the beginning of this chapter, the characteristics of the materials here analysed have required treating the data and issues presented in a way partially different to that adopted for the previous chapters. It has, in fact, emerged that even if the physical presence of literary representations of China in exhibitive contexts is rather limited,

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their immediate influence on Italian views of China and consequently on displays with Chinese themes cannot be underestimated. As Michael Jackson (1996: 39) points out, “narrative redescription is a crucial and constitutive part of the ongoing activity of the lifeworld, which is why narrative plays such a central role in phenomenological description”. The example of Il Milione by Marco Polo has been pivotal in order to unravel the complex system of connections between the perceptions and descriptions of the Other passed on by texts and those expressed by other means and materials. The Venetian’s strong and multifaceted legacy continues to make itself felt through various manifestations, as, for instance, Calvino’s suggestive narrative Le città invisibili, Luzzati’s illustrations and the exhibition at the Correr Museum show. Following this intricate itinerary, it has been possible to trace parallel literary patterns and other interlinked processes in the development of ideas of the Chinese Other and of the Self in relation to this specific Other in the Italian experience. In other words, I have exposed the mechanisms that take place in the gradual shift of balance from the preoccupation with recognition, constructions, and visions of the Other to the evocation of cross‫ޤ‬referential issues of cultural identity. This has been achieved by bringing to the readers’ attention the relationship between the account of a journey of discovery in Historia Mongalorum and the narration of an inner and life journey in Il deserto dei Tartari as well as between the report of a more personal experience in China presented through Odorico’s Relatio and the revisited recounting by Sgorlon in Il filo di seta. It is necessary to stress in this regard that in this chapter the emphasis has been on the delineation of journeys, each of a different nature. As I have been following the routes from the uncovering of the Other to the definition of the Self and from descriptive to evocative exercise, it has been particularly helpful to refer to literary cases all of which focus on journeys, either in space, towards distant lands, or in time, through life. Thus, the progressions that I analyse acquire both a factual and a metaphorical connotation. Quoting Jackson (1996: 39) again, the reciprocity of journey and narrative should be noticed, inasmuch journey is the content to be narrated and, at the same time, narration re‫ޤ‬proposes “the structure of journeying” that can be applied to the whole variety of experiences. It is finally worth stating that the inclusion of literary representations in my research has not been just and optional choice but has occurred out of necessity. The close link or even interdependence between “a theory of narration” and “a theory of practices”, between discourse and non‫ޤ‬discursive elements, as illustrated by de Certeau (1988 [1984]: 78, 100‫ޤ‬101), accounts for the essential function of literary texts, such as the

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ones considered here, in the process of acknowledgment, representation and relation when different cultures meet each other. By placing the analysis of this form of textual representations at the end of the book and relating them to other more immediately graspable types of representation treated in the previous chapters, I highlight one of their most distinctive aspects. The instances presented in this chapter have, in fact, allowed me to explain how texts narrating perceptions and experiences of China in the past, though not as manifestly tangible as displays of objects and images, become nevertheless visible through their effects on a variety of materialisations of ideas of China. At the same time, it can be eventually observed that, looked at retrospectively, objects, images and the ways of displaying, in their turn, make a more complete and definite sense in virtue of the views and perspectives that the texts themselves propose. Bearing a number of conceptual and structural affinities but far from being equivalent to each other, the representations produced through different means are mutually complementary and together provide what is represented with a comprehensive frame.

CONCLUSION

Throughout this book, the presentation and examination of a variety of significant case studies has allowed me to analyse the multiple frames— material contexts and cultural environments—within which ideas of China are represented in Italian public displays of a wide range of cineserie. At this point, it is thus necessary to make some final remarks on the overall results of my research. More precisely, it is now possible to reassess the main topical issues raised in the introduction and to provide a comprehensive picture of the findings that have come into view in each chapter. From a wider perspective, looking at the different types of interaction with and experience of cineserie in permanent and temporary exhibitions, it has become clear that patterns can be identified and outlined when considering the connections between the engagement with material manifestations of a cultural Other, the perception and representation of ideas of the Other and the impact of a more or less accentuated Self‫ޤ‬awareness on the whole process. Narrowing the focus on the cases studied for this research, the instances analysed have highlighted a general situation conditioned by the specificity of Sino‫ޤ‬Italian historico‫ޤ‬cultural relations and of the Italian settings and circumstances in which Chinese‫ޤ‬themed displays take place. What has made these assertions firmer has been the availability of sets of comparable data concerning various aspects of the materialisation of cultural identities, yet all pointing to similar interpretative outcomes. Analysing, to begin with, the displays themselves as a form of material expression of ideas of China, I have been able to notice the distinctive traits of permanent exhibitions, more bound by principles of continuity, tradition and physical and cultural belonging, as opposed to those of temporary exhibitions, made more flexible by trends of change, innovation and relative contextual detachment. However, despite the variations in approach and criteria, I could recognise that the main mechanism behind the resulting representations chiefly depended on a matter of shifting balances of visibility and invisibility, both phenomenical and conceptual. Essential museological studies that emphasise the social dimension of representations in the spaces of museums, such as those by Vergo (1989)

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and Bennett (1995), and works that stress the importance of visuality in the cognitive processes triggered by museum displays (Baxandall 1991; Stafford 1997) have guided me in the examination of the links between the history and nature of the exhibitive contexts. They have also helped me in the assessment of the role and significance of the exhibits themselves. In the case of permanent displays, I have thus observed that the historical, cultural and political circumstances at the basis of the formation and evolution of museums in Italy have a substantial impact on the way in which Chinese artefacts and Italian chinoiserie are presented and perceived. It is for this reason that the connotation of Italian museums, fixed in an ancient tradition of eminence and in their protective function over local and national artistic heritage, often results as an obstacle to the public disclosure of the collections in a flexible, adaptable manner, in tune with socio‫ޤ‬cultural changes. Even stronger and more specific are the effects of the relationship between each museum and its territory, namely the cultural context and immediate physical surroundings. This connection, so relevant in the Italian case, is most of all responsible for the extent to which the Chinese artistic and cultural elements in a certain collection either stand out or are marginalised. Among the examples that I have considered, cineserie remain almost hidden under particular environmental circumstances. In certain cases, these specimens undergo such a treatment when they are part of institutions that are already struggling to claim any attention in a milieu saturated with other features and places of interest more closely and firmly linked to the local cultural reality. An example of this situation is provided by the shy arrangement of Chinese artefacts in the Museum of Oriental Art in Rome, which lies overwhelmed by the countless eminent landmarks— historical, cultural and artistic—of the city. In other cases, the presence of objects that tell at least part of the story of Italy’s artistic and cultural encounters with China goes mostly unnoticed when these specimens belong to collections and institutions with a very solid identity deeply rooted in the local cultural context. I remind the reader, for example, of the Chinese vases and the chinoiserie artefacts at Ca’ Rezzonico, completely absorbed into the celebration of the Venetian eighteenth‫ޤ‬century decorative arts in the collections of this iconic palace on the Grand Canal. Rather differently, I have also had the opportunity to identify situations in which cineserie are highlighted in the display as a component of distinction contributing to the re‫ޤ‬evaluation of places that do not usually enjoy great popularity. As a matter of fact, the efforts to give more prominence to the Galleria Spinola in the circuit of Genoa’s cultural tourism are based on the assertion of the ancient link between the palace

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and the city as well as on the emphasis on the preciousness of the Chinese porcelain collection and the incorporation of this exotic element in the fabric of the domestic and public history of the building. When I turned to examine temporary exhibitions as short‫ޤ‬lived, one‫ޤ‬off experiences, in the light of more general technical descriptions (Bouquet 2001) and more specific comments on the strategies and aims of Italian temporary displays (Pinna 2000), I observed some peculiarities in the manner of representing China through cineserie. In this regard, Italian temporary exhibitions with Chinese themes have shown a more rapid evolution in their techniques and purposes, following more closely the development of faster and more intense cultural exchange between Italy and China. In particular, the cases analysed have demonstrated that the ancient tradition of a special relationship between the two countries and between their cultures remains the essential underlying statement in most exhibitions, from the pioneering Mostra d’arte cinese in Venice in 1954 to the innovative Cina, Cina, Cina in Florence in 2008, just to mention two significantly different instances. However, what changes is the intention driving the display, which seems to be shifting more and more from a didactic one towards a merely evocative one. As data and information about China can nowadays be acquired through a variety of rapid and efficient means and channels, temporary exhibitions have increasingly been assigned the task to somehow suggest impressions of China that can be drawn from the way in which the artefacts are presented. The aura of mystery and quasi‫ޤ‬sacredness of ancient China at the dawn of the empire, for instance, was theatrically hinted by the subtle disguise of transparent veils in Cina. Nascita di un impero. The purpose of creating an evocative effect is sometimes fulfilled even with the complicity of contemporary Chinese artists, who, through their works and the display of the latter, metaphorically express and incite reflections on the state of affairs in today’s China. The exhibition of Huang Rui’s installation in Rome well represents these circumstances, as the suggestive arrangement of the hutong bricks entices the visitors to consider issues of history, memory and tradition in contemporary Chinese reality. Whatever the peculiar character of each temporary display, it is worth stressing as a general point that besides aiming at presenting specific ideas of China, the organisers of most of the events I have come across have paid particular attention to highlight a unique Italian element contributing or relatable to the display. This has been achieved in a number of different ways. The motif emphasised more often is that of the long‫ޤ‬established and special connections between Italy and China. These links refer, at times, to the historical tradition, both in strictly commercial terms—such as in the

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case of Marco Polo and other Italian merchants in Yuan‫ޤ‬period China— and in broader cultural terms, including, for example, the intellectual and artistic exchange at the court of Qianlong Emperor. In other instances, the Italian involvement with China is seen in the present, as Italy appears as a partner in research projects and archaeological expeditions or as host of Chinese migrant communities. The Italian connotation of the exhibitions is also made evident through the logistic choice of the settings in iconic historical buildings or the aesthetic choice of arrangements planned by famous Italian choreographers and designers. Typical of my case studies is the consistent pattern by which the Italian‫ޤ‬ness of the exhibitions does not rely on general, all‫ޤ‬embracing Italian features. It rather derives from specific local features—Marco Polo’s semi‫ޤ‬legendary tradition in Venice, the city’s ancient history in Rome, Renaissance palaces and contemporary fashion design in Florence, just to mention a few—that all together contribute to the construction of an Italian identity. Thus, not surprisingly, a number of approaches to various aspects of a Chinese entity can be contemplated against such a multifaceted background. The analysis of the display—permanent or temporary—as a form of representation in its own right has provided the key to understand the overall circumstantial factors that, in time, have determined certain contemporary Italian perceptions of China as a detached or an interacting reality, as a firm, well‫ޤ‬defined identity or as an ephemeral, blurred essence. In addition to this perspective, by zooming in onto the exhibits, I have been able to focus on the representation of the Other from a different point of view, namely one that considers things as origins, mediators, and products of cultural encounters. In other words, this examination of the variety of specimens on display has made it possible to reconstruct the essential epistemological framework within which Italians have been coming into contact with and have been relating to China as a cultural identity. As I approached these materials, I firstly turned my attention towards three‫ޤ‬dimensional objects, for they usually emerge as the most evident and the most abundant type of exhibits. In order to verify in this context the workings of the system of interconnections between materiality, agency and knowledge, I have hence adopted a theoretical model that combines Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty’s concepts of acquisition of awareness through synaesthetic experience of things (Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty 1996 [1962]) and a notion of attainment of knowledge through intrinsic intelligible components of things inspired by Lévi‫ޤ‬Strauss’s symbolic view of materiality (Lévi‫ޤ‬Strauss 1966 [1962]: 23‫ޤ‬24). It is in these terms that in the course of my investigation I have identified two aspects that are particularly

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influential in the understanding of the connection between materiality and cognition. More precisely, technology is a pivotal element in the measure by which it concerns the recognition and the definition of peculiar cultural traits linked to the production of specific materials and objects. Likewise, spatiality, intended as spatial arrangement of things and people’s perception of things in a certain physical environment, provides essential clues to the engagement of a culture with objects produced by or somehow relating to a different culture. As far as my case studies are concerned, the relevance of the aspect of technology began to unfold when the unique role of porcelain became evident. Most of the displays considered suggested, in fact, that porcelain objects are by far the ones most immediately associated with ideas of China and that the association with Chinese culture is mainly triggered by the physical qualities and technical features of porcelain itself. The emphasis on typology and style in the ordering of the numerous specimens at the Duca di Martina Museum and the detailed explanation about manufacturing processes that accompanied the presentation of the porcelain vessels at the Museum of Oriental Art in Venice illustrate this point very clearly. The almost obsessive attention paid to the technology of Chinese porcelain production detectable in the Italian displays nowadays reflects the curiosity and fascination expressed by the Italians for this exotic material since their early encounters with it. As I have shown through the example of the Medicean attempt to reconstruct the composition and the techniques employed by the Chinese to produce porcelain entails more than a simple mechanical emulation. Historical sources, such as the notes on the sixteenth‫ ޤ‬century maps of the Far East by Danti, point to the fact that the materiality of porcelain became inextricably associated with the awareness of China as its place of origin and of Chinese people as its first producers. As a consequence of this embedded connection, not only the collecting of Chinese porcelain objects, but also the grasping of the technological implications behind these products can be read as practical responses to the underlying need to get closer to and gain a more specific knowledge of a Chinese cultural entity. A further manifestation of cultural awareness through technological experimentation emerged as I turned to consider Italian chinoiserie porcelain and lacquerware, in other words, those artefacts made in Italy and inspired by materials and techniques traditionally imbued of an idea of China. Especially illuminating in this respect have been the instances of the Salottino of chinoiserie porcelain at the Museum of Capodimonte and the lacquered “Chinese room” at the Royal Palace in Turin. Both displays, historically belonging to settings strongly representative of local history

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and local cultural identity, still resound with their local particularities, which make them so widely well known. The curators themselves explained that these eighteenth‫ޤ‬century works of art undoubtedly draw on the manufacturing and decorative features of their Chinese counterparts. However, even the labels that briefly introduce the two rooms to the public highlight the fact that their ornamentations were realised as masterpieces of local crafts, namely Neapolitan porcelain and Piedmontese lacquerware respectively. It can be, hence, seen how the knowledge of Chinese materials and techniques re‫ޤ‬elaborated and re‫ޤ‬interpreted in Italian chinoiserie still appears as instrumental assertion of the local cultural traits of the Italian producers. During my investigation, when looking at the spatial arrangements of Chinese artefacts and chinoiserie in particular in the context of some permanent displays, I have recognised the same mechanisms of awareness of the materiality of the Other and appropriation of some of its elements for the purposes of Self‫ޤ‬expression as described above. I have demonstrated that in cases such as those of the porcelain displayed in ancient aristocratic palaces converted into museums, the way in which the objects are placed is suggestive of the physical and symbolical position as well as the practical function that cineserie might have originally held in these spaces, re‫ޤ‬proposing, at the same time, old attitudes and conceptions towards these artefacts and their Chinese and local Italian connections. While comparing the presentation and the function of various kinds of objects in a wide range of display contexts, I was led to point out that a different approach to the materiality of cineserie could be observed in the temporary exhibitions of the works of contemporary Chinese artists. The example of Huang Rui’s brick installation at the Museo delle Mura in Rome has been particularly helpful in showing how, in today’s artistic creations, materials and techniques employed are not emphasised by artists, curators or spectators as distinctive cultural elements. As it has been possible to notice through Huang Rui’s composition, the attention of the viewers is not directed towards the nature and technical properties of the material used—in this case the bricks—but rather on the culturally‫ޤ‬specific values and meanings evoked by the material, namely the connection with the Chinese tradition of the hutong, Beijing’s popular culture and the socio‫ޤ‬cultural changes in contemporary China. After examining the complex representative features of three‫ޤ‬dimensional artefacts in the context of permanent and temporary exhibitions with a Chinese theme, in chapter five I moved on to scrutinise the characteristics of two‫ޤ‬dimensional visual representations of China. The criteria for such an analysis were based on the theoretical assumption that

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images are a fundamental component in the realm in which we live (Freedberg 1989) and that their pivotal role in perception and cognition is owed precisely to their representative qualities (Stafford 1997). The patterns that I outlined when considering images on the whole in the variety of all my case studies have emerged as similar to those already identified for objects in the same circumstances. In other words, when associated to displays that emphasise ideas and manifestations of China from a more historicist perspective, images acquire a clear descriptive and didactic connotation. With the example of the 2001 exhibition at the Royal Palace in Naples I explained how the illustrations of the eighteenth‫ޤ‬century export watercolours were used with the specific aim of offering to the public the opportunity to learn something about the traditional manufacture of typical products such as porcelain and silk that still today are immediately suggestive of China. At the same time, when images are part of exhibitions focusing on contemporary artistic production and on innovative ways of presenting China to museum‫ޤ‬goers, they become sources of evocative references. I have demonstrated this with instances such as those of the Venetian exhibition on Luzzati’s fanciful illustrations of Marco Polo’s China and of the visual representations at Cina XXI secolo, where the photographs, videos and paintings of contemporary Chinese artists more or less metaphorically conveyed impressions of China in our times. As I analysed the interaction between images and the exhibits that accompanied them in each display, I recognised a peculiarity in the effect and function of two‫ޤ‬dimensional representations of China. As a matter of fact, the visibility and relevance of the images vary according to the presence and impact mainly of three‫ޤ‬dimensional objects. In this regard, I showed that images of Chinese themes and motifs are mostly neglected as little more than colourful embellishments when they cover the surface of porcelain vessels, the shapes, styles and techniques of which are the unrivalled protagonists of certain displays, like that of the Duca di Martina Museum. On the contrary, through the mural paintings depicting the use of specific utensils or the practice of particular activities on display at Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille and Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli, I also pointed out that images are at the centre of the attention. This is especially the case when the evidence provided by them compensates for the absence of other tangible evidence or is more exhaustive than that of material and textual sources in a given exhibition. While considering the variability of the relationship between images, the media on which they appear, the surrounding three‫ޤ‬dimensional objects and the settings in which they are exhibited, I could not help

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noticing, at the same time, the shifting degree of self‫ޤ‬reflection in visual representations of the Other. Not only images of China often struggle to be visible, especially in displays of ancient Italian collections that follow more conservative principles prioritising the impact of the materiality and three‫ޤ‬dimensionality of other exhibits: it is also the representation of ideas of China itself that vacillates between acknowledgment of the Other and assertion of the Self. This phenomenon is recognisable in the treatment— often reflecting Italian cultural peculiarities—granted by Italian artists to visual representations of Chinese elements and realities. This is the case, for example, of the late medieval Italian paintings where objects of Chinese manufacture are included in compositions rich of local cultural traits, or even of Luzzati’s illustrations, in which images of China are integrated in a work that, after all, celebrates the figure and achievements of the Venetian traveller Marco Polo. If for visual representations of China it is sometimes difficult to emerge in the context of museum displays, especially when other types of exhibits attract more immediately the visitors’ attention, in my fieldwork I observed that a similar situation is even more manifest and occurs even more frequently in the case of Italian literary representations of China. In the chapter dedicated to the latter, I demonstrated how, despite their rare appearance and the little consideration received in display contexts, they are nevertheless influential on the way in which China is presented and perceived in and beyond the circumstances of Italian permanent and temporary exhibitions. I therefore highlighted their relevance in the same sense in which Jackson (1996) emphasises the crucial role of narrative in the synaesthetic experience of the realities around us. Particularly enlightening for this aspect of my investigation has been the instance of the exhibition Emanuele Luzzati: Il Milione di Marco Polo at the Correr Museum. Among all the cases that I have examined, this has been the one that most directly based its leading theme on specific literary representations of China and explicitly used these literary texts as exhibits in the display. More precisely, I pointed out that the literary representations provided in Marco Polo’s text fulfilled in the past and still fulfil today a guiding role in people’s imagery of Chinese territories, inhabitants and culture. The comparative materials proposed throughout the last chapter of this book indicate, first of all, that the representations of China included in the narration of the famous medieval Venetian traveller have been a rich inspirational source for many authors across all times, up to our days. Whether referring to Odorico’s Relatio or to Calvino’s Le città invisibili or to the other texts discussed, the point that has been made here is not about the faithfulness and inaccuracy of the descriptions

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provided, nor about the differences between the straightforward character and the metaphorical implications of such descriptions, as it has been long but inconclusively debated by numerous scholars in various disciplines. What matters in the context of this research is rather the fact that the ideas of China constructed and displayed through narration in literary texts contribute to the development of intricate relational systems involving perceptions of a cultural Other through self‫ޤ‬awareness as well as perceptions of the Self through the construction of cultural difference. Another crucial issue raised with regard to textual representations of China is the re‫ޤ‬evaluation of their essence and function as part of the entire body of representations from the comprehensive perspective theorised by Mitchell (1994). By stressing in particular how texts were accompanied by a wide variety of images and objects in the display at the Correr Museum, I put the accent on the complementary and comparative relations between literary representations and other types of material and visual representations. It is this rich and varied corpus of representations of China, transmitted through different media and channels but balancing and completing each other, that has allowed me to trace and understand the specific network through which Italian ideas of China are linked. Before bringing this book to the close, it is worth adding some final notes on the latest trends and future perspectives regarding representations of ideas of China in Italian exhibitions as they can be singled out from a few relevant happenings and situations that I have observed towards the end of my research. The examples examined so far have already made it clear that the phenomenon of an increasing number of temporary exhibitions with Chinese themes follows a more general pattern according to which temporary exhibitions are widely becoming curators’ favourite way of displaying, no matter whether the purpose is to offer a spectacular show revealing innovative techniques and new assessments of certain materials or to present in a more conservative manner well‫ޤ‬known exhibits and well‫ޤ‬established ideas (Barker 1999: 103‫ޤ‬173). Yet, what the exhibition Il Celeste Impero. Dall’esercito di terracotta alla via della seta (The Celestial Empire. From the Terracotta Army to the Silk Road)—held at the Museo di Antichità (Museum of Antiquities) in Turin from July 11 to September 16, 2008—can still highlight in the specific context of this research is the continuing search for exhibitive practices that can offer different visions of different ideas of China, more up‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬date with current situations and discourses of intercultural communication. It is, however, also evident that these innovative experiments run in parallel with an attempt to reassert some more traditional notions and representations of Chinese culture and Sino‫ޤ‬Italian relations so much embedded in people’s

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assumptions and expectations. Resulting from the joint effort of Maurizio Scarpari and Sabrina Rastelli, who had previously curated other exhibitions considered in this book, the recent display in Turin brought together iconic masterpieces of ancient China, from a group of the famous Qin‫ޤ‬dynasty terracotta warriors to impressive early Buddhist sculptures and precious Tang‫ޤ‬dynasty artefacts testimony of contacts and exchange along the Central Asian routes of the Silk Road. Introducing the exhibition at the opening ceremony, Liliana Pittarello, the regional director for the Cultural and Environmental Resources of Piedmont, stressed that, in the broader context of the re‫ޤ‬launch of Turin as an important centre for cultural activities, the main purposes of the event were “the promotion of knowledge of the history and arts of a far‫ޤ‬away country” as well as “to encourage a reflection on the parallel historical developments in China and in the West”—in Italy in particular—from the third century BC to the ninth century AD. Moreover, in agreement with the Italian representatives, Luo Bojian, director of Art Exhibitions China—the official Chinese institution cooperating in this project—reiterated that the exhibition was an occasion to emphasise a certain correspondence between the Chinese and Roman empires and, consequently, the connection between China and Italy, stronger than ever in our times. Therefore, on the one hand, a rich programme of film screenings, talks and other entertainment activities had been scheduled in conjunction with the exhibition in order to present to a public as wide as possible topics of Chinese history, culture, and tradition as well as the issues of the socio‫ޤ‬economic changes in contemporary China. On the other hand, the display was choreographed in a highly evocative manner within the frame of the remains of Turin’s Roman theatre. In other words, the whole organisation and arrangement of Il Celeste Impero not only confirms a certain difficulty, in the Italian exhibitive settings, to adopt strategies of representing the Chinese Other independently from the peculiar features and circumstances of the highly historicised local cultural backdrop. It also exemplifies a curatorial tendency, already noticed in other cases, to increasingly use in the set‫ޤ‬up of temporary exhibitions the specificities of local Italian identities as a background against which the materialisations of ideas of China stand out even clearer and more spectacular. The more or less conscious principle at the basis of this approach lies thus in the fact that the cultural distinction manifested by means of aesthetic differentiation does not have a divisive, antagonising effect, but a comparative, dialectical function that reinforces the visibility of culturally‫ޤ‬specific traits of identity. The instance of the display at the Museo di Antichità has proved to be all the more crucial for the assessment of the evolving processes in the

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display of representations of China in Italy inasmuch as in the last two rooms along the visiting route it offered an exclusive occasion to preview a group of objects from the Chinese collection of the new Museo d’Arte Orientale (Museum of Oriental Art) that was due to open in Turin on 5th December 2008. The establishment of a new museum in a country with such a deeply rooted tradition of collecting and displaying is already in itself a rare opportunity to assess signs of continuity and modernisation in criteria, aims, and techniques. In addition, with regards to the topic of this research, this is a unique chance to verify how and to what extent the treatment of Chinese collections changes in the context of Italian permanent exhibitions. As far as its general mission is concerned, the museum follows the trend of those institutions that nowadays, as Kylie Message (2006: 17, 51) observes, “regardless of local context and purpose, propose a particular notion of newness as their central organizing concept” and are “directed more toward gaining a cultural currency and cachet that is based on museums’ engagement with popular culture and interdisciplinary academic discourses”. Intervening at the opening ceremony, Sergio Chiamparino, the mayor of Turin, emphasised the function of the new museum “to contribute to the development of awareness of and research on the dynamic peoples of the East” as well as its role in the “public appreciation of the cultures of origin of the new citizens of Turin arrived from those areas”. Included in the network of civic museums known as Fondazione Torino Musei, the Museum of Oriental Art was born in order to safeguard a wide range of Asian artworks, comprising pieces from private collections, artefacts previously kept in other museums in Turin and new acquisitions. All the specimens gathered have constituted the five sections on South Asia, Himalayan Region, Japan, Middle East and China. Turning the attention to this latter section, it is here worth pointing out that all the Chinese art holdings, the majority of which date from 3000 BC to 900 AD, had originally been collected by the locally and nationally influential Agnelli family, founders and owners of the renowned Fiat automobile manufacturer. However, a few years ago, the local cultural authorities joined forces to purchase the collection in order to rescue it from being dispersed, following the company’s financial difficulties at that time. Given these circumstances, the tough challenge that this group of artefacts now faces, as clarified by my main informant87 for this case study, is that of being gradually transformed from a collection satisfying the needs and preferences of a private collector to one that fulfils the aims and tasks of a public institution engaged in the divulgation of knowledge to an audience as wide and varied as possible. It is therefore going to be a priority for the museum to make the Chinese collection more

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comprehensive and representative of the history of Chinese civilisation rather than just the manifestation of the personal choices of individual Italian collectors. As a matter of fact, I was explained that, as it stands, the Chinese section displays all the over 400 specimens of the original group, which is constituted by artefacts dating from the Neolithic (ca. 7000 BC‫ޤ‬1500 BC) to the Tang dynasty. However, with the availability of more funding in the next few years, the museum intends to keep on display about 200 most representative specimens of the initial corpus, to put the remaining 200 objects into storage and to enrich the galleries with newly purchased artefacts produced in other periods of Chinese history. This project, together with the realisation of an online catalogue that provides images and information about all the objects held by the museum and the promotional efforts to attract young visitors, is in line with the museum’s general intentions. These can be summarised according to my informants in three main points: to present the collections in a way that is up‫ޤ‬to‫ޤ‬date with local and global socio‫ޤ‬cultural developments; to open all the resources to the appreciation of the general public as well as to scholarly research; and to gradually become an active part in the international museum network also by means of temporary exhibitions. While this agenda highlights an approach that allows the collections to emerge as protagonists and authoritative representatives of their cultures of provenance, it is still made clear that this process takes place within a frame typical of the local Turinese cultural reality. Even at the opening ceremony it was emphasised that crucial for the constitution of the Museum of Oriental Art had been the availability of the premises at Palazzo Mazzonis, an eighteenth‫ޤ‬century palace in the heart of the old Turin acquired by the city’s authorities from the ancient and prestigious Turinese Mazzonis family and purposely adapted to house the oriental collections. Hence, elements of Turin’s cultural history appear through the restored interior decorations, as they catch the visitor’s attention alongside the objects on display. This is the case, for instance, in a room where artefacts belonging to China’s Neolithic and Bronze Age almost struggle to stand out on the background of elegant Neoclassical frescoes. In the light of these observations, it is therefore possible to recognise once again the characteristic ambivalence detected in the display of Chinese collections in other Italian museums. That the new museum in Turin is trying to find a compromise between the deliberate attention to representations of the Other and the unavoidable intermingling of the latter with local cultural traits is even visible from the external appearance of the palace. The façade with the front entrance maintains all the austere original features of the historical building, while the modernised side of

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the back entrance has been modified with the installation of a big panel with the acronym of the museum’s name in large letters and a round display window where images of different objects from the collections appear in a loop. In a context that, after all, is attempting to propose itself as a break from pre‫ޤ‬existing Italian museums with oriental artefacts, the Chinese collection on display still bears not only an indefinite function, but also an uncertain identity and it is too early at the moment to tell how closely to or differently from the museum’s objectives it will evolve. Keeping in mind the initial topical questions, this investigation has succeeded in clarifying how different ways of proposing and perceiving cineserie in Italian exhibitive settings trigger the materialisation of ideas of China that can be either more evident and directly focused on the represented cultural Other or more subdued and strongly based on a complex set of relations between the representing Self and the Other. More in detail, it has been demonstrated that culturally specific elements characterise such representations of a Chinese cultural entity as being peculiar outcomes within distinctive Italian cultural realities. While these findings provide a conclusive explanation of the principles and workings that determine Italian representations of ideas of China, the resulting scenario revealed through the data from my fieldwork cannot, in any case, be definitive. The aim of this research has been to cast light on a particular situation that had not previously received sufficient scholarly attention. Yet, from a broader, comparative perspective, a more in depth study could be carried out in order to analyse divergences and correspondences between the case scrutinised here and representations of ideas of China in the exhibitive settings of other European countries. Furthermore, concentrating more closely on certain aspects of the Italian case, it would be worth considering how and to what extent perceptions of China through works of art and the representations ensuing from these in the context of private collecting differ from those in the context of public display. Finally, more attention could be given to the fact that the circumstances and conditions of display are affected by the unremitting tension between continuity and transformation. As the last two examples described above show, changes in representative modes, linked to ever‫ޤ‬shifting balances in the relations between cultural identities, undergo incessant variability and developments: it is these changes that could already be the subject of further research.

NOTES 1

This is the translation provided by Liddell and Scott (2002: 513) in their authoritative GreekӊEnglish Lexicon. 2 Among the many studies dedicated to mimesis, it is worth mentioning Erich Auerbach’s seminal work Mimesis (1946); more recent publications that propose the results of a detailed investigation on the history and nature of mimesis include Mimesis and Alterity by Michael Taussig (1993) and Theories of Mimesis by Arne Melberg (1995). 3 Written in the early fourth century BC, the Republic is a collection of fictional dialogues in which Plato discusses philosophical issues, ethical principles and political theories. Especially in the tenth book, the philosopher condemns mimesis as a product of the art of poets which is too far removed from the real world. 4 The Poetics, written by Aristotle in the second half of the fourth century BC, is the first extant philosophical treatise focusing on dramatic and, more in general, literary theory. In the sixth chapter, when Aristotle describes dramatic art as imitation of action, it is particularly clear that he praises mimesis as an active, creative process that brings awareness of reality. 5 For the original Greek text and English translation see Samuel Henry Butcher (1951: 14‫ޤ‬15). 6 The terms “idea” and “form” are used to translate what Plato calls eidos. A definition of this crucial concept in Plato’s thought can be found in book X of his The Republic, where through the example of the cabinet‫ޤ‬maker he explains that the eidos of a couch is the real couch, whereas the product of the craftsman’s work is an appearance of the couch, “something that resembles real being but is not that” (X. 597a). For the original Greek text and English translation see Plato’s The Republic, translated by Paul Shorey (Plato 1935: 426‫ޤ‬427). 7 For Plato’s original Greek text and the English translation see the version translated by Shorey (Plato 1935: 118‫ޤ‬133). 8 While John W. Yolton (1996: 106) only briefly hints at the inspirational value of Plato’s simile of the cave for subsequent studies on perception, Melberg (1995: 23) exposes the connection between a philosopher’s knowledge and sight more explicitly. 9 Throughout Auerbach’s Mimesis (1953: 191, 554) imitation emerges as an “epistemological technique” used by the artist for the interpretation of reality and it is in this sense that I refer to it in my study. 10 For the original Greek text and English translation see Butcher (1951: 14‫ޤ‬15). 11 Nietzsche finished this work in 1888, but he had already anticipated the concept of intoxication in art in 1872 in The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music. For the mention in this work see the English translation by Shaun Whiteside (Nietzsche 1993: 14).

180 12

Notes

Gebauer and Wulf make this statement specifically with reference to social mimesis, but the concept can be extended to mimesis in general. 13 See Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1935) in the text edited by Hannah Arendt (Benjamin 1999: 233). 14 An example can be found in the simile of the cave: the shadows on the wall are to the puppets what the latter are to real people and animals. This is also pointed out by Michael Randall (1996: 41). 15 In Poetics Aristotle defines analogy as follows: “Analogy or proportion is when the second term is to the first as the fourth to the third. We may then use the fourth for the second, or the second for the fourth” (XXI. 6). For the original Greek text and English translation see Butcher (1951: 78‫ޤ‬79). 16 This concept may be extended to the products of technical reproduction, contrarily to what inferred by Benjamin in his “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”: see the text edited by Arendt (Benjamin 1999: 214‫ޤ‬217). 17 Consider, for example, the statements: “Now in all other respects this World has already, with the birth of Time, been wrought in the similitude of that [i.e. the Model, the perfect, eternal pattern of the World of Ideas] whereunto it was being likened ...” (39 e); “... ever‫ޤ‬existing Place [i.e. space, substrate], which admits not of destruction, and provides room for all things that have birth ...” (52 b). For the original Greek text and English translation see Plato, Timaeus—Critias— Cleitophon—Menexenus Epistles, translated by R. G. Bury (Plato 1999: 83, 123). 18 An academic controversy has risen about the use of memory in anthropology. In particular, David Berliner (2005; 2007) criticises what he deems an excessive emphasis on this concept and on its relation with materiality. Yet, despite his reserves, he cannot but recognise memory as an “indispensable concept” (Berliner 2005) for anthropologists and accept the “object‫ޤ‬memory paradigm” (Berliner 2007). 19 Clifford (1988: 221) states: “Appropriate: ‘to make one’s own’, from the Latin proprius, ‘proper’, ‘property’”. 20 The collection of poems Les Orientales (1829) by Victor Hugo (1802‫ޤ‬1885) is a renowned early expression of the nineteenth‫ޤ‬century literary and artistic fascination with eastern exoticism in France, which was heightened by the country’s conquest campaign in Algeria in 1830. 21 The Egyptian Anwar Abdel Malek, philosopher at the University of Sorbonne in Paris, was the first to write critically on Orientalism in the article “Orientalism in crisis” published in the winter issue of Diogenes 44 (1963: 104‫ޤ‬112). 22 In Discipline and Punish, Foucault (1977: 27) states: “there is no power relation without the correlative constitution of a field of knowledge, nor any knowledge that does not presuppose and constitute at the same time power relations”. An overview of the French philosopher’s treatment of the problematic issues linked to the concept of power/knowledge is provided by Colin Gordon (1980) in a collection of selected interviews and writings by Foucault. 23 Tatlow develops this topic in his book Shakespeare, Brecht and the Intercultural Sign, published by Duke University Press in 2001.

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums 24

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An extensive discussion of the “new museology” is provided in The New Museology (Vergo 1989), where the essay “Museums, artefacts, and meanings” by Charles Saumarez Smith (1989: 6‫ޤ‬21) is also contained. 25 Founded during the third century BC, it functioned as a major centre of research and a library until the eighth century AD. 26 The changes and expansions undergone by the collections of the Medici’s cabinets of curiosities played a fundamental role in the acknowledgement of Chinese porcelain in Italy. The circumstances and implications of this involvement will be thoroughly discussed in chapter four. 27 Massimo Montella (2003: 213‫ޤ‬14) supports this argument by referring to a number of other authoritative sources; among the others sharing this view, Laura Barbiani’s voice stands out in her essay “Musei, collezioni di oggetti e soggetti di funzioni” (Barbiani 1993: 138‫ޤ‬139). 28 The description in Italian can be found in the Legislative Decree October 29, 1999, n. 490, published in Gazzetta Ufficiale n. 302, 27 December 1999— Supplemento Ordinario n. 229. 29 This definition is included in the current ICOM Statutes, article 3, section 1 as reviewed and modified during the ICOM Annual General Meeting 2007. See: http://icom.museum/statutes.html#2 (accessed March 15, 2008). 30 This hierarchy of art forms, established during the nineteenth century, is based on the assumed distinction between arts strongly supported by a speculative process (major) and those in which manual intervention and craftsmanship prevail (minor). 31 All the interviews and conversations with my informants were held in Italian. Hence, when quoting my informants, I here translate their words into English. 32 The full text of the decree can be found as “Decreto del Presidente della Repubblica, 3 ottobre 1957, n. 1410: Istituzione del Museo Nazionale di arte orientale in Roma” in Gazzetta Ufficiale della Repubblica Italiana, n. 61, 11‫ޤ‬3‫ޤ‬1958, p. 1008. 33 “Prefecture” translates Prefettura, the representative office of the Government in a province. The Italian text can be found on http://preale.napolibeniculturali.it/storia‫ޤ‬del‫ޤ‬museo (accessed February 19, 2009). 34 This collection—one of the first and most important art collections in Renaissance Italy—was built up by Alessandro Farnese (1468‫ޤ‬1549), better known as Pope Paolo III. 35 Famille verte ware is porcelain characterised by decorations painted with various shades of green enamels in combination with other overglaze colours. Famille noire ware is a variation of the previous with a black ground. 36 A bureau trumeau is an eighteenth‫ޤ‬century French desk with a particular type of mirror of the same period resting on its top. 37 In a small section, curators of museums around the United Kingdom give their opinion on advantages and disadvantages of blockbuster exhibitions; see Museums Journal, 2008 (108: 5), p. 21. 38 See Federici’s stub Piccole mostre crescono. L’offerta romana per la primavera 2008 (Small exhibitions grow. What’s on offer in Rome in spring 2008). See:

182

Notes

http://mostreemusei.sns.it/index.php?page=_layout_mostra&id=459&lang=it (accessed April 10, 2008). 39 See http://it.china‫ޤ‬embassy.org/ita/whjl/t141265.htm (accessed December 11, 2007). 40 Genghis Khan (1160 ca.‫ޤ‬1227), founder of the Mongol Empire (1206–1368), had conquered North China in 1215 but control over South China was established only in 1279. The Mongol emperors proclaimed the Yuan Dynasty and ruled over China from 1271 to 1368. 41 Marco Polo’s account has been known in Italy as “Il Milione” since its early divulgation. However, the origins and meaning of this title remain uncertain. Most commonly, it is either thought that “Milione” was a nickname of the Polo family (Manganelli 1980: xiii) or it is assumed that this word, meaning “a million”, is a hint at the “million tales” told by Marco Polo (Lach 1965: 35). 42 The article is available online at: http://www.repubblica.it/2006/09/sezioni/arte/recensioni/cina‫ޤ‬roma/cina‫ޤ‬roma/cina ‫ޤ‬roma.html# (accessed February 12, 2007). 43 The text by Huang Rui can be found in Italian on the museum’s website: http://www.museodellemuraroma.it/servizi/ufficio_stampa/pechino_2008_il_temp o_gli_animali_la_storia_un_opera_di_huang_rui; see the pdf document 4.Huang_Rui[1].pdf (accessed May 6, 2008). 44 These verses are taken from the poem Questioning the Moon while Drinking. For Chinese text and English translation see the publication by Sun Yu (1982: 232‫ޤ‬233). 45 For the Greek text and English translation see the publication edited and translated by C. R. Haines (2003 [1916]: 150‫ޤ‬151). 46 Famille rose ware is porcelain characterised by decorations painted with overglaze enamels mainly in various shades of pink. 47 Meiping, literally meaning “plum blossom”, indicates the shape of a tall vase with swollen shoulders and narrow neck usually used to display a single flowering branch from a plum tree. 48 Qingbai (“blue‫ޤ‬white”) ware refers to white porcelain coated with a transparent, pale blue glaze. 49 The medieval Italian word “porcella” indicating shiny cowry literally means “little pig”: the curved shape of a cowry’s upper surface resembles the curve of a pig’s back. 50 The word “techne” is used with this meaning in particular by Plato and Aristotle; see Liddell and Scott (2002: 814). 51 This definition is given by Foucault in an interview with Paul Rabinow (1984: 255). 52 Discussing the attainment of scientific knowledge, Merleau‫ޤ‬Ponty (1996 [1962]: 11) recognises the impossibility of establishing an objective science of subjectivity. 53 Here I purposely distinguish between “comprehension”—from “cum‫ޤ‬prehendere”— meaning an inclusion and assimilation of something, “into” something else, and “apprehension”—from “ab‫ޤ‬prehendere”—indicating the “capture” of something that remains a physically and conceptually separated entity.

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums 54

183

The text by Legati in its original edition (1677, vol. III, ch. XXIII, 273‫ޤ‬7) is quoted by Francesco Morena (2005: 89). 55 Maiolica is tin‫ޤ‬glazed pottery produced in Italy during the Renaissance under the influence of Moorish pottery. 56 This quotation and the following are taken from the text on Danti’s Mappa del Giappone (Map of Japan) and Mappa della Cina (Map of China) respectively, executed around 1575 and now displayed at Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. The original Italian version is provided by Morena (2005: 29). 57 In his study on the making and significance of lines in people’s thought and life, Ingold (2007) tends to reconnect culture and materiality. In the “Introduction” he admits: “I soon discovered, however, that it was not enough to focus only on the lines themselves, or on the hands that produced them. I had also to consider the relation between lines and the surfaces on which they are drawn” (Ingold 2007: 2). He then concludes: “What I hope to establish, in this book, is that to study both people and things is to study the lines they are made of” (Ingold 2007: 5). 58 The place names “Cambaluc” and “Chinsai” are the ones reported by Marco Polo and other medieval travellers. 59 Originally envisioned in 1919, the construction of the Three Gorges dam began only in 1994. Most of the planned components of the project were completed in October 2008 and the power station is now almost fully operational. Six additional generators in the underground power plant are being installed and will be completed around 2011. 60 A full description of the Chinese wallpapers at Racconigi is provided by Caterina (2005: 502‫ޤ‬505). 61 Established in the seventeenth century in the northern French town of Beauvais, this tapestry manufacture was praised for the outstanding quality of the weaving in France and was renowned in other countries. 62 Various aspects relating to the practical and ideological roles of the Gengzhitu and other similar publications in the history of Chinese popular culture are discussed in detail by Francesca Bray (2007: 521‫ޤ‬567). 63 The paixiao is a Chinese wind instrument constituted by a row of bamboo pipes. 64 The Laurentian portulan is a medieval world map included in the so‫ޤ‬called Medicean Atlas. It is kept in the Laurentian Library in Florence but besides the fact that it comes from the Ligurian area, nothing is known about its authorship and circumstances of realisation. 65 The tradition of the Medici’s passion for Chinese porcelain has been already described in the previous chapter. 66 Pomponius Mela, the first known Roman geographer, defines the Chinese as “genus plenum iustitiae”, “honest people” or literally “people full of justice” in his De Chorographia or De Situ Orbis III, 7, 60. For Latin text and English translation see the edition translated by P. Berry (Mela 1997: 126‫ޤ‬127). 67 Greek historian, geographer and philosopher, he studied in Rome at the time when his hometown Amaseia in Pontus (modern Amasya in Turkey) had already been conquered by the Romans. His work Geographica is an encyclopaedia of geographical knowledge. A passage about the age of the Chinese is in

184

Notes

Geographica, XV, 1, 37. For Greek text and English translation see volume VII of the edition translated by H. L. Jones (Strabo 1966 [1930]: 64‫ޤ‬65). 68 Ptolemy was an Egyptian astronomer at the time when Egypt was part of the Roman Empire. He provides various topographical details of the territory of China in his Geographia (Ptolemy 1966 [1843‫ޤ‬1845]: passim). The English translation of the passages about China can be found in Ptolemy’s Geography by J. Lennart Berggren and Alexander Jones (2000: passim). 69 In this respect, it has to be remembered that in the thirteenth century, while some European Christian princes allied with the Papal State were fighting the Muslim Turks over the control on the Holy Land, at the same time, the Mongol armies were trying to occupy the Middle and Near East. 70 The original ancient Persian text of Kuyuk Khan’s letter of reply to the Pope and its English translation are included in the exhibition catalogue Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli (Màdaro 2007: 359‫ޤ‬361). 71 An exhaustive explanation about the name “Kitai” is given by Paolo Daffinà (1989: 407‫ޤ‬408) in his notes to the Historia Mongalorum. 72 This etymological explanation is provided by Giuliano Bertuccioli and Federico Masini (1996: 36‫ޤ‬37) and Paul Pelliot (1959: I, 264, 274); the word “mán” is nowadays used as an adjective meaning “boorish”, “rough” (Wu 1997: 1095). 73 They had been captured on September 7, 1298 during a naval battle between the Venetians and the Genoese. They were then released after the peace ratified on July 1, 1299. 74 For a critical summary of Rustichello’s involvement in the writing of Il Milione and of the history of the various versions and translations of this text see a recent study by Stephen G. Haw (2006: 41‫ޤ‬45). 75 Rustichello’s text has gone lost. Thus, in this book I refer to the renowned Italian translation written by the Tuscan Niccolò Ormanni, usually called “l’Ottimo”. About the translator, we know that he died in 1309; therefore, his text was written only shortly after the original. For the same passage from the “Prologue” in this Tuscan version see the publication edited by Daniele Ponchiroli (1974: 3). 76 Ponchiroli (1974: 3) provides the Italian text. 77 A detailed response to Wood’s theory has come recently from Haw (2006). In general, he states that “many of the criticisms of Marco Polo have been highly ill‫ޤ‬informed and are commonly totally anachronistic” (Haw 2006: 1). 78 The full Italian text of Prot. N. 217 issued by the Italian Ministry of Education on January 13, 2005 can be found on the website http://www.pubblica.istruzione.it/news/2005/prot217_05.shtml#allegati (accessed December 17, 2007). 79 For clarity, it has to be born in mind that the number of chapters varies from one version of Il Milione to another. In this book, I always refer to the numbering adopted in “l’Ottimo”. 80 The Mongols’ process of legitimisation of the rule over China included the move of the capital from Mongolia to China in 1272 and the adoption of Chinese dynastic names. Temür Khan (reign 1294‫ޤ‬1307) was the first Mongol emperor to take a Chinese dynastic name, being also known as Emperor Chengzong.

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums 81

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This text is part of a presentation given by Calvino himself at Columbia University in New York on March 29, 1983. 82 This English translation is by W. Weaver (Calvino 1997: 5‫ޤ‬6). For the original Italian text see the Italian edition of Le città invisibili (Calvino 1993 [1972]: 5). 83 This English translation is by S. Hood (Buzzati 1985: 83). For the original Italian text see the Italian edition of Il deserto dei Tartari (Buzzati 1956 [1945]: 121). 84 Odorico stayed at the imperial court in Cambaluc for three years and the Great Khan he met was Yesün Temür Khan, also known as Emperor Taiding (reign 1323‫ޤ‬1328). 85 For the Italian text see the publication by the Chamber of Commerce, Industry, Crafts and Agriculture of Pordenone (Odorico da Pordenone 1982: 44‫ޤ‬45). This version is that of the “Codice della Marciana, clas. VI, n. 102”, a medieval manuscript in possession of the Marciana Library in Venice. It was first published, along with a Latin version, by Teofilo Domenichelli in the book Sopra la vita e i viaggi del beato Odorico da Pordenone dell’ordine de’ Minori, Prato, Ranieri Guasti, 1881. 86 In the title‫ޤ‬page, Sgorlon (1999: title‫ޤ‬page) himself specifies that the information about Odorico provided in the book draws on the friar’s Relatio and the historical indications and hypotheses brought forward by the expert Giulio Cesare Testa. 87 The informant I refer to here is the only one encountered during my fieldwork who has requested to remain anonymous.

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INDEX 7000 anni di Cina. Arte e archeologia dal Neolitico alla Dinastia Han, 73 aesthetics, 34, 114 agency, 2, 20, 30, 65, 93, 97, 98, 100, 169 Agnelli family, 176 Altes Museum, 40 appropriation, 24, 27, 28, 29, 30, 35, 36, 79, 101, 171 Aristotle, 19, 20, 23, 25, 179, 180, 182 Ashmolean Museum, 39 assimilation, 29, 30, 36, 79, 102, 182 Beijing, 76, 79, 85, 86, 87, 120, 128, 171 Bellini, Giovanni, 132 Benaglio, Francesco, 131 Bourbon, 42, 47, 54, 55, 59, 60, 74, 75, 104, 106 Brancaccio Palace, 49 British Museum, 1, 2, 28, 40 Buzzati, Dino, 159, 160, 161, 185 Ca’ Pesaro, 48 Ca’ Rezzonico, 53, 54, 58, 59, 64, 65, 103, 113, 114, 125, 134, 136, 167 Calvino, Italo, 158, 159, 164, 173, 185 Cambaluc, 120, 156, 157, 183, 185 Canton, 1, 75, 85, 126, 139 Capitoline Museum, 39 Capolavori della Città Proibita. Qian Long e la sua corte, 76, 89 Carlo Boni, 42 Castello di Racconigi, 52 Castiglione, Giuseppe, 76, 77

Catayo, 160, 161 Cathay, 150, 155, 156, 160, 162 chinoiserie, 2, 6, 8, 10, 14, 15, 16, 23, 28, 33, 45, 51, 53, 55, 59, 61, 62, 65, 70, 91, 102, 104, 105, 107, 108, 110, 112, 113, 125, 136, 167, 170, 171 Chinsai, 120, 156, 157, 161, 183 Cina: alla corte degli imperatori, 83, 85, 90, 91, 94, 96, 112, 128 Cina a Venezia, 73 Cina XXI secolo, 86, 88, 90, 121, 134, 172 Cina, Cina, Cina. Arte contemporanea cinese oltre il mercato globale, 85 Cina. Nascita di un impero, 82, 83, 90, 168 cineserie, 3, 8, 14, 26, 37, 38, 45, 46, 53-55, 58, 59, 61, 64, 66-71, 93, 94, 106, 107, 108, 111-114, 116, 125, 132, 135, 166, 167, 168, 171, 178 Civic Museum of Modena, 42 cognition, 21, 22, 27, 30, 36, 106, 107, 170, 172 contextualisation, 25, 29, 30, 64, 103, 107, 108, 110 Correr Museum, 77, 78, 117, 118, 119, 121, 128, 129, 130, 134, 139, 140, 141, 152, 154, 163, 164, 173 creativity, 26, 69, 84, 101, 114 da Pordenone, Odorico, 138, 160164, 173, 185 dal Pian del Carpine, Giovanni, 138, 143-149, 155, 159 dialectical, 1, 24, 32, 69, 99, 175 Direzione Centrale degli Scavi e dei Musei d’Italia, 42 Doge’s Palace, 73, 129, 130, 132

216 Emanuele Luzzati—“Il Milione” di Marco Polo, 77 environment, 1, 7, 9, 14, 28, 37, 38, 43, 45-48, 50, 55, 59, 63, 64, 67, 83, 86, 91, 107, 111, 115, 125, 128, 130, 170 Florence, 2, 15, 39, 83, 84, 86, 94, 98, 99, 100, 101, 104, 126, 132, 168, 169, 183 galleria, 40 Galleria Internazionale di Arte Moderna, 48 Galleria Nazionale di Palazzo Spinola, 50 Garzoni, Giovanna, 132, 133 Genghis Khan, 78, 85, 120, 182 Gengis Khan e il tesoro dei Mongoli, 78, 89, 91, 94, 112, 128, 153, 155, 172, 184 Gengzhitu, 126, 127, 183 Genoa, 2, 8, 50, 51, 61, 64, 109, 131, 167 Herzog August Bibliothek, 5 Huang Rui, 86-89, 92, 94, 115, 168, 171, 182 I tesori del Palazzo Imperiale di Shenyang, 76 ideas of China, 1, 3, 10, 13, 14, 15, 17, 27, 30, 33, 35, 60, 63, 66, 74, 82, 93, 95, 116, 117, 127, 137, 138, 158, 165, 166, 168, 170, 173, 174, 178 identity, 3, 7, 8, 10, 14, 18, 21, 24, 29, 34, 35, 38, 41-45, 47, 51, 53, 54, 55, 58, 63, 65, 66, 86, 87, 88, 91, 92, 93, 102, 104, 108, 111, 113, 114, 115, 125, 129, 131, 139, 141, 146, 149, 152, 155, 163, 164, 167, 169, 171, 175, 178 Il Milione, 77, 96, 117, 118, 138, 139, 140, 142, 150, 152-158, 160, 161, 163, 164, 173, 182, 184

Index images, 1, 10, 15, 16, 22, 30, 33, 60, 75, 81, 88, 93, 105, 107, 109, 110, 116-119, 121-139, 143, 153, 157, 158, 165, 172, 174, 177, 178 imagination, 7, 26, 81, 84, 96, 134, 141, 142, 150, 155, 159 intercultural, 2, 13, 19, 22, 73, 74, 79, 81, 105, 106, 154, 174 ISIAO (The Italian Institute for African and Oriental Studies), 56 Italian National Committee of ICOM, 43 Italy‫ޤ‬China Foundation, 79 Kitai, 148, 149, 184 knowledge of the Other, 13 Kublai Khan, 7, 158, 162 Kuyuk, Khan, 143, 144, 184 La Strozzina, 85 Legge di Tutela Bottai, 43 literary, 16, 20, 33, 34, 35, 87, 137144, 147, 150, 152, 155, 158-164, 173, 179, 180 Luzzati, Emanuele, 77, 139, 173 Mangi, 149, 150, 155, 156, 157, 160, 162 Mangia, 149 Mantegna, Andrea, 132 Martini, Martino, 113 material culture, 2, 6, 8, 13, 57, 65, 102 materialisation, 1, 13, 18, 20, 33, 127, 166, 178 materiality, 5, 6, 14, 17, 93, 95, 98, 99, 102, 111, 112, 114, 115, 169, 170, 171, 173, 180, 183 Medici, 38, 39, 98, 99, 100, 101, 132, 181, 183 Mela, Pomponius, 143, 183 mimesis, 13, 19, 20, 21, 24, 25, 26, 30, 35, 36, 117, 141, 179, 180 missionaries, 15, 106, 155, 160

China in the Frame: Materialising Ideas of China in Italian Museums Mongols, 78, 119, 120, 141, 143, 144-149, 155, 159, 160, 161, 162, 184 Mostra d’arte cinese, 72, 168 Museo Archeologico Nazionale, 79 Museo del Settecento Veneziano, 53 Museo delle Mura, 86, 89, 91, 115, 171 Museo di Antichità, 174, 175 Museo di Arte Orientale, 47 Museum of Oriental Art, 45, 47, 48, 49, 55, 56, 63, 94, 95, 167, 170, 176, 177 Museo di Capodimonte, 54 Museum of Capodimonte, 54, 55, 59, 60, 104, 170 Museo Nazionale della Ceramica, 46 Duca di Martina, 47, 49, 54, 57, 64, 67, 94, 95, 97, 124, 134, 170, 172 Floridiana, 47 Museo Nazionale di Arte Orientale, 49 Giuseppe Tucci, 49 Naples, 2, 46, 49, 54, 57, 59, 60, 64, 74, 76, 79, 82, 89, 91, 94, 104108, 126, 127, 135, 172 National Museum of Prehistory and Ethnography, 42 objects, 1, 3, 10, 15, 16, 21, 22, 25, 28, 29, 30, 37, 63, 65-69, 71, 76, 78, 80, 81, 83, 90, 91, 93, 95, 97, 98, 99, 104, 107, 108, 109, 111122, 124, 125, 126, 132-135, 137, 139, 140, 141, 142, 154, 155, 165, 167, 169-172, 174 Orientalism, 14, 30, 31, 33-36, 142, 180 Other, 1-7, 13-19, 24, 26, 29, 30, 31-36, 44, 56, 63, 65, 66, 71, 74, 76, 81, 95, 101, 103, 106, 109, 110, 111, 114, 119, 127, 129, 131, 133, 136, 138, 142, 145, 149-152,

217

158, 163, 164, 166, 169, 171, 173, 174, 175, 177, 178 Palazzo delle Esposizioni, 88 Palazzo Marcello, 48 Palazzo Mazzonis, 177 Palazzo Pitti, 132 Palazzo Reale, 51, 54 Royal Palace, 51, 54, 59, 60, 62, 64, 65, 74, 75, 76, 91, 94, 96, 105, 107, 113, 114, 125, 126, 127, 135, 170, 172 Palazzo Strozzi, 83, 84, 85, 91 Pechino 2008, 86, 90 phenomenological, 3, 8, 9, 21, 29, 45, 98, 117, 164 Pigorini, Luigi, 42 Pitré Museum, 75 Plato, 19, 20, 21, 25, 117, 179, 180, 182 Polo, Marco, 7, 16, 60, 72, 73, 77, 78, 89, 96, 113, 118, 119, 120, 121, 128, 129, 130, 134, 138-141, 150-164, 169, 172, 173, 182, 183, 184 proto‫ޤ‬museum, 39 Ptolemy, 143, 184 Quadretti cinesi nelle collezioni borboniche, 74 Ramusio, Giovanni Battista, 140 Ripa, Matteo, 106 Rome, 2, 42, 45, 49, 50, 56, 64, 72, 77, 82, 83, 86-89, 94, 95, 103, 115, 167, 168, 169, 171, 181, 183 Savoia, 51, 52, 76, 123, 124, 125 Scuderie del Quirinale, 82 self, 1, 4, 6, 7, 11, 18, 21, 24, 30, 34, 36, 41, 42, 75, 103, 136, 173, 174 settings, 10, 12, 14, 33, 40, 45, 57, 60, 62, 66, 70, 74, 75, 82, 83, 91, 93, 102, 107, 109, 110, 122, 123, 125, 133, 135, 136, 139, 166, 169-172, 175, 178

218 Sgorlon, Carlo, 161, 162, 164, 185 Shanghai, 85, 121 Spinola, 50, 51, 61, 65, 96, 108, 109, 110, 114, 167 Strabo, 143, 184 studiolo, 38, 39, 40 Stupingi, 76 Tang. Arte e cultura in Cina prima dell’anno mille, 79, 90, 96, 127, 172 Tartars, 120, 145, 146, 147, 151, 158, 159 technology, 5, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 115, 124, 170 territory, 7, 14, 15, 45, 53, 58, 64, 130, 141, 145, 146, 147, 148, 159, 167, 184

Index Tianjin, 6 trade, 4, 8, 29, 64, 77, 84, 89, 99, 106, 113, 120, 121, 129, 131, 143, 153, 157 Treviso, 78, 89, 94, 153 Turin, 2, 51, 52, 62, 64, 65, 76, 94, 96, 113, 114, 125, 170, 174, 176, 177 Uffizi, 39, 40 Venice, 2, 16, 47, 48, 53, 55, 58, 63, 64, 72, 73, 77, 78, 84, 89, 94, 95, 96, 103, 105, 113, 118, 120, 130140, 152, 153, 159, 161, 168, 169, 170, 185 Victoria and Albert Museum, 5