Memories of the Conventino

In 2000 and 2004 I studied painting under a couple of artists working in a place known as “Il Conventino.”

The building was in fact a former convent built in the 19th century. Back then, it was inhabited by nuns who had chosen to go barefoot and to close themselves off from society in order to devote their days to work and spiritual practices.

The place was a secluded, quiet haven, even when I encountered it over a century later, after several buildings had sprung up all around it. And since the nuns had to be self-sufficient, they had built their convent around a large garden filled with herbs and fruit trees, and presumably vegetable patches when they were still tending it. By the time I got there, the garden was mostly overgrown but the fruit trees and herbs were still abundant.

The Conventino was the place where I first got the idea for a Big Dream of which this site is now part. It was such an inspiring environment. The building had seen many changes (it was even the Oltrarno headquarters for the Resistance during WWII) and after the war it had become home to a group of artists and artisans who needed an affordable place in which to work. 50 years later, I was lucky enough to join them for a while.

The building was in a pretty bad state of disrepair. The stone walls were mainly intact but the ochre-colored plaster in the courtyard was crumbling. I remember in particular one room in which the roof had essentially collapsed and there was debris hanging from the ceiling down toward the floor. But the spaces were wide open and felt old, silent. Somehow the nuns’ short stay had left something of their quiet devotion.

The parts of the Conventino I came to know were an entryway, a two-roomed studio, a hallway, a room upstairs used for studying the figure, and the garden, which was accessed through the studio downstairs. It was a wild tangle of green plants, flowers, and herbs that we would use for making tea over the gas stove. In the middle of the garden was the nuns’ old brick well.

The Conventino was closed sometime around 2005 and all the artists and artisans were forced to leave. Then the city began restoration works. It was reopened in its new incarnation only last year.

I went to the opening. There were lots of city officials and people in sunglasses carrying drinks. The garden had been completely replaced with something cleaner and easier to maintain; in the spot where the well once stood they had installed a DJ.

The studio area that I knew so well was reserved for special invitees only. They were serving champagne, and they stopped me as I tried to enter. I explained my connection to the place and they reluctantly let me had a look around. It was nothing like the original Conventino, and I left with a strange, deep sadness.

I hope that in some small way I can create a happy ending to all this.

My dream is to recreate that place, even if I have to do it with a different setting, different people and different dynamics.

I’d like to create a studio space where we can all work together on our projects, sometimes working quietly, sometimes getting inspired by each others’ work and ideas.

I’d like to create a garden where we can go to relax and take a break from our work. I’d set out a few old chairs among the green tangle of plants. It would be a place to get a bit of fresh air, smell the grass baking in the sun, admire the plum blossoms, think about things…

…or not.

Every now and then I’d like to gather people together in the garden to talk about our work, our blocks, and our intentions. It wouldn’t be a critique, but an exchange. We’d be serious at times, and other times get totally silly. We’d sit near the well and have our chat over a cup of tea made with our garden herbs.

And I’d like to have a quiet upstairs room, an inner room of the kind that is closed off to visitors. The sort of room that is made for intimate conversations.

I hope that this site can become the digital version of such a place. Who knows, maybe someday there may be an actual, physical place where we could hang out.

What do you think – would you like to join me? I’d love to have you.

PS Nope, no illustration to this post for the moment. But I did do a series of paintings documenting the Conventino in 2000, before I had any idea that the place as I knew it was about to disappear. Those paintings are thousands of kilometers away right now but they might make an appearance later

COMMENTS: My Big Dream looks big but is actually pretty small and vulnerable. Please treat it with kindness!

A gentle reminder: I might get silly around here, but everyone’s creativity is worthy of our deepest respect. I’m sure you’ll honor other people’s process as much as I honor yours.