Another Roman Holiday…

by adamhalevi, posted in 1963 Florence Flood, Adam Green, Art, Art Travel, Carmel College, Florence, Hermann Langmuir, Milan, Rome, travel, Unrequited Love

…and more unrequited love in the eternal city and beyond…

As I’ve mentioned before on these pages, the main reason I gave up the prospect of an academic career was because I was a lazy student and had a precocious talent for drawing and painting. In other words, I took the easy, relatively effortless option. However, if one person, other than yours truly was also highly influential in pushing me towards a career in art, it was my art teacher at Carmel College, Hermann Langmuir *.

Hermann (as we were bidden to call him) was a tall, bearded, charismatic Dutchman, whose knowledge of art and art history was only matched by his infectious enthusiasm for his subject. From the moment he joined the teaching staff, the Carmel art room metamorphosed from a gloomy, educational backwater, into the most happening and vibrant teaching space on the campus. This, combined with my loathing of formal classroom study and the fact I became one of his two star pupils (a huge nod to Jeremy Gerlis – a gifted draftsman and now FRSA), ensured that I would give up the chance of an Oxbridge future (virtually guaranteed to top Carmel academic performers back then) for the presumed bright lights and glamour of a London art college.

How all that turned out is well covered in previous posts, but what I have overlooked until now, was a trip Hermann organised for all his pupils, in the March of 1976, to Rome, Florence, Siena and Pisa. The following – un-treated – ancient photos (all taken on my old Canonet 28 Automatic), tell some of the story of that magical and hugely formative experience.

* If anyone reading this post has any knowledge of the whereabouts of Hermann these days, assuming he is still with us (I guess he would be well into his eighties by now), I would be keen to catch up with him. I should point out here, that if not for Hermann’s pleading with the headmaster, Rabbi Jeremy Rosen, I would not have been on the trip. I had entered Carmel in 1971, with my estranged father paying the considerable fees. However, when he fled to America in 1973 during the oil crisis and the subsequent crash of his advertising business, the school, very kindly allowed me to stay on at half-fees. As generous as this was, with my mother working as a poorly paid secretary, it still entailed my maternal grandparents using up much of their life-savings to keep me at the school. Thus, when the Italy trip was announced, my family had no cash spare to pay for it, and hence Hermann’s interceding with Rabbi Rosen on my behalf. Once again, the school came up trumps, and completely covered the costs of my travel and half-board accomodation, leaving me with only my lunches and daily refreshments to pay for. For this purpose, my very hard-up mum gave me the grand sum of £25 spending money, which I somehow managed to make last the entire ten-day trip, by restricting myself to slabs of margarita pizza, purchased from “hole in the wall” vendors. In any event, I never once felt deprived, and had one of the adventures of a lifetime. Thank you Hermann, wherever you are…

Milan Railway Station – Designed by Ulisse Stacchini in 1931: We flew to Milan (I suppose it was cheaper than flying direct to Rome?), and then got the train to Rome. I for one was pleased, as, much to Hermann’s horror, I was in awe of the station’s “fascist architecture”…
The oddly named Vatican “Square”, from the top of Saint Peter’s: One of several times I was fortunate to see a wonder of the world with virtually no crowds to mar the experience…
The rear view of the famous equestrian statue of emperor Marcus Aurelius – Piazza del Campidoglio: Again, despite the marvelous early Spring weather, almost no people…
Tritone Fountain – Bernini: Our very modest pensione was close to the red-light district of Rome, but also very near this fabulously and typically over-the-top masterpiece. Many a pizza slab was consumed at its feet – or should I say, its fish (yes, I know they’re idealised dolphins, but…)…
Jael on the Palatine: Jael was one of the few girls at Carmel in those days, and although I doubt she was aware, I was in love with her. She was Italian, from Fiesoli, above Florence, and the daughter of one of Italy’s foremost post-war domestic electrical manufacturers. We all visited her home on the Florence leg of the trip. It was a medieval castle, jam-packed with yet more wonderful works of art. I believe she is now a successful fine artist based in Germany …
Hermann being sketched: I think this was in Florence. Hermann had been one of the many foreign student volunteers to help in the cleanup of Florence following the disastrous 1966 flood. I used much of what he told me about his work in and around the Uffizi to inform an early chapter in my novel ARK…
The Uffizi Gallery: As was normal for me in such places, a few of the Michelangelo sculptures notwithstanding, I was far more impressed with the gallery itself than much of the art it held. Can’t complain about this particular crowd, as it was my school group…
Florence from Giotto’s Campanile, (the cathedral bell tower), with Brunelleschi’s magnificent dome in the foreground: Florence was the star of the trip for me. Not so much the art (which was stupendous), but the city itself. I’ve been back many times since, but it never felt quite as perfect as in that March of 1976 …
Sarah, in the Boboli Gardens: I was in love with Sarah, and like Jael, she too had not the faintest idea. I was still a month away from my 16th birthday, and could barely make eye contact with a pretty girl, let alone declare my affections. Nevertheless, those ten days, in the warm Italian March sunshine, remain a mostly joyous memory. And after all, unrequited love is often a powerful muse of sorts.

8 thoughts on “Another Roman Holiday…”

  1. I suppose every older generation says, “if you had only known what [fill in place] was like in those days.” But it is true. You were fortunate to have seen them then. I have similarly fond memories of Rome and Florence from 9 years earlier when I stayed in youth hostels and ate at local markets, not restaurants.

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    1. I had £5.00-worth of lira left on the last lunchtime. We’d been standing next to a restaurant near the Circus Maximus. It had a sunken terrace by the pavement, packed with smart businessmen eating tomato and mozzarella salads. I was so envious, I broke away from our group and went down and took a spare table. Before Hermann could react, I’d ordered a salad and a glass of red wine. Bearing in mind I hardly looked 15, let alone the 18 I was required to be by Italian law, it was amazing that the waiter brought me my order without question. More amazing still was that I had sufficient change from my lira to tip the kind waiter! Hermann, was not impressed, but it was worth the scolding.

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  2. Charming piece, Adam. As a great Florentine said, some 500 years ago:

    Quanto sia liet’ il giorno,
    Nel qual le cose antiche;
    Son or da voi dimostr’ e celebrate.
    Si vede perch’ intorno,
    Tutte le gent’ amiche;
    Si son’ in questa parte radunate.

    (Coincidentally, I am working on that very lyric/song at the moment).

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  3. Indeed, Niccolo Machiavelli wrote three comedies towards the end of his life. That lyric forms part of the prologue to the last of them.

    Phillippe Verdelot set the lyric to music for performances in 1526:

    https://youtu.be/SSsy6G4mjY4

    It is a very beautiful, early madrigal.

    There are transcriptions of several Verdelot madrigals, including this one, for single voice and lute, by Adrian Willaert, published just a few year’s after the Verdelot.

    Singing this song and further transcribing it for four string guitar is at the very top of my range, both in terms of grasping music theory and my (limited) performance ability. I am enjoying the challenge…or some might say, struggle.

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    1. I have really tried over many years to develop an appreciation for Renaissance music, but just without much luck. It’s an era of music which remains as mysterious to me as Machiavellian verse! I’d have to admit that something like RVW’s Greensleeves Fantasia is about as close as I ever get to enjoying a tune from the period. However, and because of that in part, I have huge admiration for you and your knowledge of/ability in the field. Apologies for my limitations, but do keep up the good work!

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      1. I believe the traditional Renaissance follow up post-confession is an indulgence, Adam. Please incant “In Darkness Let Me Dwell” three times.

        As you are family, I grant you leave to use the slightly later early music tune I used for that lyric at Hampton Court last year.

        https://www.google.com/gasearch?q=In%20Darkness%20Let%20Me%20Paint%20It%20Black&source=sh/x/gs/m2/5#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:7cf38679,vid:7gosGaAdXOE,st:0

        🤪

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