C O N T E X T 1 0 8 : M A R C H 2 0 0 9 35 crossroads of Europe, where the route south from the Brenner Pass crosses the road across northern Italy to Venice. Verona, with its air of wealth and well-being, offers something of a contrast to the economically weaker regions of central Italy. The tourist economy is strong and Verona is the fourth most visited city in Italy. The Roman layout, within a loop of the River Adige helps to shape the modern city with the cardus and decumanus remaining key streets within the city centre. The Arena, the Roman amphitheatre, was built outside the walls and forms the focus of Piazza Bra. This square and Piazza delle’Erbe, close to the intersection of the two Roman axes, are the two key historic urban spaces. Verona is blessed with a still plentiful supply of wonderful building stones, most notably the pink Alpine marble used to build the Arena and laid extensively as paving. Extant public buildings date from the Roman period, through medieval rule by the autocratic Scaligeri family, Venetian subjugation and Austrian and Napoleonic rule. Verona’s history and its pivotal strategic position have also produced a complex, multi-period system of military architecture, which over recent years has been seen as a maintenance and repair problem. Veronese architect Michele Sanmicheli (1484–1559) built much of the Venetian defensive system and three of the surviving city gates. Consideration of future uses for public buildings between the 1960s and 1980s produced a number of ambitious schemes. A former Austrian barrack complex was converted to university use and the Scaligeri Palace became an exhibition gallery under a scheme by architect Tobia Scarpa (b1935). The Granguardia, a building of 16th century origins later used by the Austrians as a military drill hall, was converted by the comune in the late 1990s to a conference centre. Probably the best known and most influential civic building is the museum at Castelvecchio. Originating as a Scaligeri military building, the castle had been restored in a pastiche manner in the 1920s. Carlo Scarpa (1906–78) was commissioned between 1956 and 1964 to reverse the 1920s changes, and to produce a scheme with greater functional clarity and clearer expression of the historical development of the building. This scheme became a widely cited example of good practice. Scarpa’s design is marked by assured handling of spaces and spatial transitions, and confident use of complementary but contrasting new materials and architectural language. The Cariverona Foundation is the charitable arm of the local savings bank, funding building conservation schemes among a number of other socially and economically beneficial projects. Verona, with its strong business sector, is particularly well favoured in this respect, but charitable foundations attached to local banks and other enterprises are also active in other parts of Italy. The comune and the local bishop are represented on the governing bodies of the foundations. In Verona, Cariverona and other foundations had funded a series of repair contracts to the great Romanesque church of San Zeno. The €18 million conversion of the Scaligeri Palace in the 1990s had also been funded by this means. The current conservation and restructuring of the civic library is just as impressive. A Jesuit house by Sanmicheli converted to a library by Napoleon in 1792, it was bomb damaged in the second world war and later extended by linking it to a new building by Pier Luigi Nervi (1891–1979). The total cost of the project is €16 million, but it is being delivered to the comune at no capital cost to the authority. This may be indicative of generally closer links between the heritage sector and private business than exist in Britain. Banks, even the modest local savings bank in L’Aquila, own many important historic buildings and extensive art collections, and hold their own national heritage open day each year. On my visit to Palazzo Te in Mantua, the central courtyard was in use for a car sales event, which also took up two of the state-rooms. In Venice the display of giant advertising posters to screen restoration works has been attributed to cuts in cultural funding by the Berlusconi government. One hoarding in St Mark’s Square will yield €3.6 million. What do the Italians think of the conservation of their built heritage? A book about L’Aquila written in the 1980s jointly by a planner and an archaeologist complained at loss of local identity. ‘The urban disaster of our country is of such magnitude that the violation and destruction of the special characteristics of such a city is a bitter experience in our recent and very recent history.’ A different perspective came from the small town of Offida (population 5,000) in the hills above the Tronto valley near Ascoli Piceno. Apart from building conversions, only two major interventions had occurred there in the 20th century: the building of a three-storey block of flats in the 1950s and the demolition by the comune in 1999 of a house deemed to spoil the view of the Church of Santa Maria della Rocca, the focal point of the village. I asked the librarian in Offida whether it was difficult to maintain the wonderfully intact historic integrity of the town. She replied that, on the contrary, it was easy: nobody wanted to change it. Michael Taylor is historic areas adviser for English Heritage in the west midlands region. He wishes to acknowledge the help of Roberto Caputo (Ascoli Piceno), Giuseppe Michelangeli (Ancona) and Costanzo Tovo (Verona) in the research for this article, and the support of English Heritage for the study visit. Doge’s Palace,Venice: The Bridge of Sighs with hoardings
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