SOVANA IN ART

Francesca Ventura

 

I am always nervous before a debut performance. I am nervous at the staging of a concert, or if we are screening a film, so imagine what I’m like when it’s my show being staged, with my own daughter making her debut! I finish getting ready and open the window, to have a look at the vast sky spangled with stars. It is a moonless night, barely illuminated by the distant, flickering lights of Sorano and Pitigliano. In the distance, I can see the dark shape of Monte Amiata. I am enveloped in the smell of Mediterranean scrub, drifting from the nearby woodlands which conceal the Etruscan necropolis. It is mixed with the scent of aromatic herbs, jasmine and wisteria, floating from the garden where the crew of young stewards are working cheerfully to prepare the banquet for after the show.
I move opposite the other window, to watch the late-comers amongst the spectators. They are hurrying across the little square in Sovana which is home to both my house and my theatre: the Palazzo Bourbon del Monte.
My father worked for more than fifteen years to restore the structure to its original state. I think he would be happy to see that this building, constructed in the 16th century by the architect Vignola, has now been returned to its original use. For it was in this actual hall, where my small daughter used to play on her bicycle, a room which evolved from an empty space to a home to a theatre, that music was performed five centuries ago. This music was played for Bishop Bourbon del Monte, on his way to Sovana to levy taxes.

This is why the building stands between two churches: the ancient church of San Mamiliano, now a museum displaying the famous treasure; and Santa Maria, a lovely Romanesque basilica housing a beautiful stone ciborium, a unique surviving example of pre-Romanesque art in Tuscany.
Now that my gaze has wandered over all my familiar surroundings, I feel more at peace in my mind. I close the windows and go downstairs. In my daughter’s room, which is used as the artist’s changing-room during the show, there is the usual pre-first performance atmosphere of panic. The actors, dressed in costumes from the 1900s, are all ready to go on. They are fearful, highly-concentrated and fizzing with static: just as they should be, in fact.
I “bless” them with the usual words to ward off bad luck, then open the curtain which separates us from the hall and climb onto the stage to announce the start of the show. The thunderous applause which greets me reminds me that next summer I will be opening the season here with the Fifth Canto from Dante’s “Inferno”. It will be a concert for dance, voices and orchestra... and I will be the one needing a good luck blessing!