ROMAN NEW YEAR

Roman New Years are quite an experience, sometimes used to dispose of discarded lovers or spouse. This event is carried out at midnight. When else , to throw an offending party out of the window, upper stories are generally best. I had only been living in Rome for a few months, when my first New Year's Eve experience occured. Still suffering from languare shock, so I knew few people, I decided to take a strollto see what kind of action was taking place. Christmas of course had been a disappointment being very family focused. Boxing Day sstartedeemed to be the main event when presents were distributed to the city's poor children in Piazza Navona. An Italian Christmas proved to be far a  more religious affair than experienceed in most Anglo Saxon countries.

At first as I strolled along, it must have been around 11.45pm, I noticed the odd item falling from the sky. They were fairly light, cusions, clothing that sort of thing. As midnight approached heaver things started to fall, flower pots, small furniture, framed pictures of out of favour lovers were popular. The down pore became so heavy I found it necessary to walk in the middle of the road for fear of injury. All sorts of household items were now raining down onto the street, rubbish of all sorts, empty on my head as wbottles, old plates, it seemed that what ever could be thrown out the window was fair game. it was a torrent. Even wardrobes were hitting the pavement with force and shattering into many pieces. Many of these items were falling from several stories up, some six floors or more. The Roman motto, out with the old, in with the new was taking on a new meaning. If I had known better I would have put a saucepan as I did during wartime air raids

By morning the central city blocks looked more like a war zone, rubbish as far as the eye could see. You had to step overobjects everywhere just to reach the corner cafe for breakfast. It seemed that it would take days to clean up the mess, unfortunaeely in some of the poorer quarters it took weeks. The papers were full of how many wives had been thrown out, no mention was made of husbands, no doubt they were too heavy to move for the wives. How many broken bones there were I have no idea, nor do I know whether manslaughter charges were laid for deceased lovers, but there was no questioning the intent.
Happy New Year!

Italian Tax. When one and one does not add up to two.

Aspects of Italian Taxation.


One of the most annoying aspect of living in Rome as a foreigner in the 60’s,  was the constant requirement to purchase the famous 90 lire sheet of paper every time you had to make a request or apply for anything.  Only by doing so was the application or document legal. These lined sheets of foolscap paper could only be purchased at a  tobacco kiosk, along with stamps and a special breed of cigarette called Alfe. They were a product in their own right, you had to hold and smoke them horizontally for fear the tobacco would fall out. My friends used to joke that they were made with the factory floor sweepings, which no doubt contained a degree of truth . I  remember considerable coughing followed each  puff, so in hind sight it was just as well I didn‘t settle permanently in Italy, as I had intended. But to return to the famous official paper issued by the government, each sheet, if memory serves me correctly  had a pretty little blue crest at the top to indicate its official nature. I often thought this was the greatest revenue  raising devise ever thought up by a  national government. Everything had to be written on these sheets , requests for a student pass, to having the electricity turned on in your flat. Even unofficial documents had to be written on the famous sheets to make them legal.

Another major source of income for the Government [ they changed on a monthly bases] was the flexible nature of tax assessment. One plus one does not necessarily add up to two. Not that this worried me personally on my megaer resources, but several foreign friends had all sorts of tax troubles. Simple addition could result in any number the tax department decreed. Generally any stated total would be doubled to arrive at a person’s income. My partner worked for an American/Italian  film script writer. Every day she would travel out along the Via Apia to his country villa and write down everything he said. These performances were highly entertaining as he would burst into the room, changing parts as required with a full display of emotional interpretation, while changing gender as required. However our script writer earned the bulk of his income overseas and paid tax in that country . This was of no interest to the Italian tax authority, who claimed he would have to pay tax on the total amount no matter were it was earned. This could be arrived at  by increasing his Italian income several fold to a figure considered satisfactory to the authority. He did very little work for Cinicita, one of Mussolini’s worthwhile contributions to 20th cent culture. Our script writer refused to pay the large amount arrived at and received a year’s jail sentence for his trouble.He could of course have paid a suitable amount of under table consideration, but he was a person  integerity.

The Art Academy,  I was attending also ran courses in film direction,  opera, costume and stage design. Such people as Fellini taught there, so the course was very popular with students from all over the world. The Italian film industry at the time was at it's peak winning accolade internationally. Many of these foreign students obtained work as extras a few days a week in Italian westerns and gladiator films. The pay was very good as they would earn in a day what I was trying to live on for weeks. The Afro /Americans were always in demand for the gladiator films. A Scot’s friend of mine would discuss for hours on end how we could somehow break into this new highly lucrative business. We thought  westerns would be best, but my Scot’s Glaswegian accent proved to be a major drawback. Unfortunately these students had similar tax problems to my script writer friend, corruption seems second nature to Italian life . When you realise that some 39% of the country’s GDP is related to Mafia controlled business, it is not surprising Italy has it’s current financial  crises.

Perugia, and Spoleto Festival of Two Worlds.

"Village outside of Perugia"
Ink & Watercolour  sketch. Peter Kreet

The summer of 1962, I spent in Perugia in an attempt to learn Italian. Like most people living in a foreign country, you tend to talk to your fellow countrymen, that is not a great deal of help. Perugia presented a diverse face to the world, with students from every corner of the globe. The main attraction being the Italian language school were one could study Italian from one month to a year. There were three terms, beginer, intermediate and of course advanced were you would study Dante and other Italian classics. The classes were highly entaining as only Italian was spoken, so considerable mime and acting skills were required  by the instructors. Often with hilarious side effects, as we tried to match the phrases through mime.

Perugia was the seat of the ancient Etruscans before Rome conquered central Italy around 295BC. As such it is one of the oldest towns in the country, still having it's Etruscan town gate. Beside the language school, the town could boast a medical, musical and fine art accademy, so it is very much a student population with all the vibrancy that implies. There were plenty of good cheap eateries and a lively night life. I always follow the advice a wise uncle once gave me "always follow the parish priest for the best and cheapest place in town to eat.

It  was here that I first my future wife, Heather, an Australian girl although at first I thought she was English as she spoke perfect English. She was a very lively girl, very talkive,who seemed to be able to engage anyone in conversion at a moments notice. This was just as well As I'm rather shy with strangers and even when I know people well not  very talkative.

At the time some fellow student friends were coming up from Rome to attend the Festival of Two Worlds at Spoleto.A mutural friend of ours was exhibiting some highly political photoes at the Festival. Unfortunately the local Bishop took offence to some of the images as they were fairly anti-catholic. One image I recall showed some nuns lifting their habits to step over a puddle of water in the gutter, while a Dominican priest looked over his shoulder in order to gain a better view of their legs!  These sort of photoes did not go down well and the exhibition was banned. However a Swiss publishing house saw the work and published them in Zuric. My friend went on to make a big name for himself in the fashion industry working for Vouge, Elle and other high flyers maginizes.

To return to Perugia I was discussing my plans to go to Spoteto over lunch, when this very attractive blond girl came up and suggested she would love to go. In addition she assured me she was very good at hitch-hiking. My previous attempts at obtaining lifts, left a lot to be desired, often resulting in few lifts, or finishing up in an awkward situtation with various member of the clergy, who apparently found young men attractive.Heather however was as good as her word and we made the trip in no time at all. At times I was required to hide behind a bush untill a lift was obtained much to the disappointment of  Italian suitors.

Spoleto proved to be rewarding, we saw the premier of "The milk train doesn't stop here any more", many fine art exhibition and open air concerts in the town square. My Scots friend from Rome Gordon arrived with his partner, an American girl who had decided to make some money selling Texan Hot Dogs with a very hot Mexican chilli sauce. Italians, like many people are very conserviative in matters of food and did not take to the hot dogs. For several months back in Rome we had these sausages served up in every imaginable conbination. Luckly she was a very good cook.

This was the first of many such outing Heather and I made that summer out into the Umbrian coumtryside, visiting vineyards and villages on pinics. Sometime we would take our painting gear as much to my delight Heather was interest in art, more of that later.

Trasteverie ,Rome

Rooftops Rome
pen & ink 1961

Trasteverie was the very heart of working class Rome, with it's very strong communist leanings.
I loved living there in the early 60s' with it's cheap resturants, cafes and vibrant street life.
Each evening half the population would spill out onto the street, set up tables and chairs ready for the nightly meal. Among the shouting ,agitated mothers would call their wayward sons, "Michaelangelo, Raphaelo, come here at once". This nightly performance was highly amuseing to the foreign student population.

"Evening Relaxation Trasteverie"
Pencil sketch 1962

Every Sunday across Viale di Trasteverie Rome's popular flea market would come to life drawing thousands of Romans and tourests alike.This regular search for hided treasures became a weekly ritual, generally most "treasures" were still covered in dirt having only just been dug up a few hours before. The owners no doubt believing such an appearance greatly enhanced their value! Many of these items are "aged" in some vacant plot or flower box..It reminded me of the council truck with S.P.Q.R. brazenly displayed on the side unloading a variety of broken columns and the odd arm or leg onto the ground of some newly created park so tourests woud have photo opportunitoies.

I had taken over an American's studio who had found himself in Rome instead of Barcelonia, due to "problems" with Franco's henchmen. Rome was not to his liking either so he was going to eat French Fries in Paris instead. The studo window overlooked a convent courtyard, complete with chickens, date palms and vegitable patch. I took great delight in observing the daily routine of the nuns as they went about their work.Every morning I would be woken by the convent bell calling everyone to prayer

My apartment building was just down the road from a lovely little church called Santa Cecilia, according to historical records Cecilia had been condemed to death by the Roman authorities. At first the had tried to scald her in her own bath of boiling water,when this failed they were ordered to decapitate her. This also failed after three attempts [apparently the swards were not very sharp], she lived a further three days in her house, the site of the church today.

Another lovely church near by was Santa Maria, one of the oldest in Rome. It contains a number of fine old Byzantine mosaics, this greatly influenced my interest in religious art, an interest that I was to develop further in London, were I studied the art of stained glass at the London Central School of Art. At the time this seemed to be a possible career path, but unfortunately the cost of windows in today's world proved too much for most patrons.

Road to Rome

In 1960 I decided to study fine art in Rome, fortunately there were numerous ships docking in Sydney discharging thousands of migrants , in a way they were all boat people of one sort or another, the displaced from war torn Europe looking for a better life. Many happy still to be alive, people who no longer had a past, only hope in an unknown future. Yet here was I going the other way.

The influences that prompted me to select Italy were threefold, apart from my exposure to the classical world  of the Renascence ,the Italian Government was offering free tutorial scholarships to young people from around the world as part of their war retribution for  supporting the  the National Socialists in Nazi Germany.As my finances were meager this seemed highly attractive, living in the country was cheap compared to Paris or London.

A Russian friend of mine from Shanghai assured me Rome was one of the most beautiful cities in the world and the girls equally beautiful what more could a young man ask for. So I set sail with only a few pounds in my pocket for a new adventure that was to last several years. At times I became very hungry,my friends told me later they were afraid I would die of malnutrition. In many ways I had become a gypsy, unable to settle in one place for long, always looking for new visions of the world, for greener grass, but that is what makes life worth living.