Fontanini, Italian art in the truest form

“We keep what is sacred.”

Alice came from Atlanta to our small B&B in the mountains north of Lucca in Northern Tuscany.  Her choices seemed odd.   Without explanation or apparent means of transportation she arrived with little baggage.  It was unfathomable being in a remote valley between Bagni di Lucca and Barga without a rental car, yet she was content, as her sole purpose behind the trip was to visit a factory where Christmas nativity figurines were made.  She struck me as more hippie than pilgrim, but here she was in search of the small statues.  How strange to meet a tourist in Tuscany with no interest in Florence, nor the big red wines, nor even the legendary food.  Was she running from something, or perhaps to something?  How would she survive for 10 days in Italy, having brought so little with her?

The kindly innkeeper, a crusty old Brit called Phillip, never Phil mind you, arranged a tour of the Fontanini factory for us.  We all piled into his micro van, my family and Alice, and went off to learn about Nativity figures.  For my part, I had little desire to spend a morning this way, but Alice’s odd enthusiasm coupled with Phillip’s excitement over this unique opportunity forced my hand.  I had heard of the artisans down south in Napoli (Naples) that made exquisitely detailed Nativity sets, but we were in Tuscany.  As we rumbled down the valley, Alice shared her interest in Fontanini, and her sorrows from working through a recent divorce.  Other people focused on crafts or sports or wine as their hobbies, but Alice spent her free time and money on Fontanini figurines.

At the factory, we met with a third generation Fontanini, a dashing Italian right off the pages of GQ.  Was his name Luca Fontanini?  He explained with great pride the process from concept, through hand sculpture of each figurine, and the casting process for production, to the painting by hand of the figurines.  He explained that other artisans have opted for automated painting by machines, yet the emotion of the figurines was always lost.  Such creation had to be done by hand.  When we met several women in the midst of putting the joyful faces on the previously emotionless figurines, we understood.  Their statutes ranged in height from three inches to over three feet.  It was always their painted faces, in their eyes, that took us back to that Holy night over 2,000 years ago.  Eyes of blue, green and brown, always unique.

Nearing the end of our tour, we stopped in the cast room, stacked high with castings for figurines from decades past.  It was here that our host nearly broke into tears.  He explained that most of the casts were from a bygone era and would never be used again.  We struggled to understand the significance.  He carried on, explaining that these casts were sacred, as the prior generations of the Fontanini family created these casts.  They live today in the old casts.  We keep what is sacred.  Family.  Tradition.  

  

He left us for a lunch appointment, whirling off in a red Ferrari, top down, sunglasses on.  As we entered the showroom, it struck us that he never mentioned that the Pope’s Nativity scene is… a Fontanini.  He never bragged.  He honored the past of his family and their history, but was not weighed down by it.   Whether we bought something or not did not matter.  What matters is that we understand the art and passion that goes into each of the figurines, and more importantly that we hold onto those sacred elements of our own past.  The challenge is to carry forward little more than that.  To travel with minimal baggage.

Bouncing back in the small van to our B&B, we learned more about Alice.  She desperately wanted to leave behind her pre-divorce life, but couldn’t.  There was too much.  As she reflected on the day, she talked of her new search to distill her past down to what is sacred, and keep that, just that.