The Stadio and the Sons of the She-Wolf:
Context
and Controversy Surrounding Rome's Stadio dei Marmi
Taylor Hartley
SIP Supervisor: Dr. Christine Hahn, Professor
of Art History
A paper submitted in partial fulfillment of the
requirements for the degree of Bachelor of Arts at Kalamazoo College.
2014
Abstract
This paper will study in-depth the
history behind and aesthetics of the Foro Italico stadium complex in Rome
(built in the 1930s), with a particular focus on the Stadio dei Marmi, or
Stadium of Marbles. Originally called the Foro Mussolini, the Foro Italico is a
huge relic of Italian Fascism, the remains of Benito Mussolini's "sports city"
that was intended to promote athleticism and flaunt the power of Fascism. With
the exception of the Olympic Stadium, which has been rebuilt several times, the
complex remains largely intact today. This paper discusses the Stadio dei Marmi
as a representation of the struggles for unity in Italy and the new Fascist
ideals of masculinity and meditates on the survival of the Fascist monument.
Additionally, the postscript briefly discusses the statues of the Stadio dei
Marmi as centerpieces of the gay kitsch and Camp movements of the 1980s.
Introduction:
Welcome to the Foro Italico
The
World Cup stadium in Rome, the site of all major soccer matches, is a shining
modern dome that lies in the midst of now-ancient relics of Fascism. To enter
the stadium, one must walk under a massive obelisk of creamy Carrara marble
proclaiming MVSSOLINI DVX (fig. 1). On either side of the obelisk are ruddy red
buildings with fiercely rectangular windows and huge white statues in recessed
niches (fig. 2). After walking under the towering monument to Benito Mussolini
(1922-1943), the soccer fan or tourist enters the gate and walks over a seemingly
endless walkway of black and white mosaics. To the careful observer, these
mosaics are a sprawling scene of propaganda, praising the Fascist defeat of
Ethiopia in 1936 and the strength and honor of the Italian people. Their sharp,
geometric style instills a sense of foreboding that is exacerbated by the
shadow of Mussolini's monument. Even the casual passerby cannot help but see
the words DVCE DVCE DVCE (a Latinization of Mussolini's title, il Duce) and the
slogan MOLTI NEMICI, MOLTO ONORE (many enemies, much honor) emblazoned on the
ground (fig. 3, 4). From the dry, weathered Fountain of the Sphere in the
center (fig. 5), one can go forward into the 1990 World Cup stadium, a massive
modern soccer stadium with a white crown of crisscrossed pipes. Turning left
sends the visitor into the old and modern tennis courts amidst a smattering of
towering statues. To the right lies a vast oval of powerful white statues
surrounding a track and field stadium. This is the Stadio dei Marmi, or Stadium
of Marbles. On a quiet day in winter, the complex feels grey and eerie; the
Fascist relics stand seemingly abandoned around the new soccer stadium. The
massive complex of buildings and stadiums is haunted by the memory of Fascism
and simultaneously unsettles and charms the visitor with its moldering totalitarian
ruins.
This
complex was called the Foro Mussolini, or Mussolini Forum, when the architect
Enrico del Debbio began work on it in 1928.[1] Today, the complex of
Fascist buildings and monuments is called the Foro Italico, or Italian Forum,
and houses the Olympic headquarters for Italy (fig. 2), as well as the World
Cup Stadium (previously the Olympic stadium), and the site of all major tennis
matches in Rome. At the Foro Italico, the ruins of a long dead government are
buzzing with life. Some of the areas of the Foro Italico have been updated,
most notably the Olympic Stadium and the tennis courts, but one area remains
remarkably untouched. This is the Stadio dei Marmi (fig. 6), opened in 1932 and
used for Fascist party rallies and youth group activities.[2]
The Stadio dei Marmi is a strange and wondrous
place. It is a track and field stadium set into the ground, surrounded by sixty
towering male statues. Today, in 2014, the pure ivory of the Cararra marble is
marred by the effects of time and the elements. They are covered with black
spots and moss like so many of the ancient Roman monuments that cover the city.
The stadium looks like a modern ruin. Even though the stadium looks abandoned,
it is not unused. Even on a rainy day in December, runners, tourists, families,
and dog walkers can be found at the Stadio dei Marmi. Some are in awe of the
mighty statues that tower above the track, and others ignore them completely,
focused on their run. The atmosphere at the Stadio dei Marmi is one of both
beauty and contradiction. The beauty comes from the architect Enrico del
Debbio's masterful design. The contradiction comes from the Roman citizens,
blithely running or walking their dogs amidst a massive propaganda program from
Fascist Italy, a hated dark spot in the country's short history as a unified
nation.
The real star of the Stadio dei Marmi is the
ring of statues that gives the stadium its name. Each statue is enormous. Too
give an idea of scale, a person who is five feet five inches tall, comes face
to face with each statue's massive feet. Without a telephoto lens it is
impossible to photograph the statues face on. All but a few photographs taken in
the process of research for this paper are at an extreme angle, almost looking
up the nose of each statue. There is no shortage of opportunities to feel small
in the city of Rome, surrounded by the remains of the most powerful empire of
the ancient world, but standing under one of the huge men in the Stadio dei
Marmi could be one of the most frightening. While face to foot with one of the
statues, one can easily read the inscription on each base. With the exception
of five, each statue has the name of a city inscribed on the base. Each statue
is an example of idealized muscular athleticism. Most of the men depicted in
these statues are shown in the midst of athletic activities like tennis,
skiing, discus, boxing, or sailing. At first glance they all seem to be
similar. They are all made of the same material, and there are so many that it
is easy to assume they are all the same man repeated sixty times in different
positions. It only takes a few focused looks at the statues themselves to
realize that they are not similar at all. Each face and body is unique. Some of
the men are overly muscled and hyper masculine, others are smooth, lithe, and
androgynous. The effect is so intriguing that it draws the visitor in and
coaxes them to look at each statue in turn. The statue of Bergamo (fig. 7) is
dynamic, with his head thrown back and his body arched. The statue of Siracusa
(fig. 8) nearby is static, with his arms resting by his side and his gaze
directed out into space. The Stadio dei Marmi is truly a statue lover's dream.
Most sources on the Foro Italico gloss over the
Stadio dei Marmi, outlining only its dates of design and its uses as a center
of the movement to increase youth athleticism. There is always a mention of the
statues in these sources, but it is limited to their number and the fact that
they represent certain important cities throughout Italy. It is impossible to
comprehend the place from the brief mention most sources give it. It is so
surprising to get there and realize that the sources gave you no understanding
of what the place is actually like. I have endeavored to shed a bit more light
on this strange and amazing place that has survived the fall of the government
that produced it. This paper will examine the Stadio dei Marmi from many
angles: as a representation of the struggle for unity in Italy, as a symbol of
the Fascist athletic movement and the new concept of the perfect male form, as
a product of Mussolini's vast public works program in Rome, and as a piece of
public art that has managed to survive the tumult of the second half of the 20th
century.
Introduction to the Foro Mussolini and Stadio
dei Marmi
The Foro Mussolini and the Esposizione
Universale Romano (EUR) neighborhood were two of Mussolini's biggest public
works in the city of Rome.[3] The Foro Mussolini was the
first big public complex built under Mussolini. Building began in 1928 and was not
fully finished until 1939 with the completion of the Duke of Aosta Bridge
across the Tiber. It was mean to be a "sports city" and a modern version of the
ancient Roman Forum.[4] The tennis courts, Olympic
Stadium, Stadio dei Marmi, and Olympic Headquarters were all built as a part of
the Foro Mussolini, along with a whole host of other things. An indoor swimming
pool, Mussolini's private gymnasium, a youth hostel, a fencing academy, and a
home for frail and sick youth were also a part of the complex of buildings
built between 1928 and 1939.[5]
Foro Mussolini as Propaganda
The
whole Foro Mussolini complex was a massive propaganda project, filled with
pro-Fascist images that praised Mussolini and the Fascist regime's acts of war.
Mussolini intended Fascism not to be a political party, but a way of life. His
regime propagated Fascism through every facet possible, through magazines,
design, youth culture, cinema, and through violent coercion.[6] The Foro Mussolini is an
extension of this Fascist culture that in the eyes of writer Massimo
Bontempelli was not a political ideology but "…a whole orientation of life, public
and private: a total and perfected order that is at once practical as well as
theoretical, intellectual, and moral, application and spirit."[7] Mussolini sought to fascistizzare (to "fascisticize") every
aspect of Italian life,[8] and the Foro Mussolini is
no exception. The complex is huge, and it dominates the landscape. It takes an
apolitical part of life, sport and fitness, and turns it into a politically
charged space. Everywhere one looks in the remains of the Foro Mussolini there
is a message of Fascist superiority. A portion of the mosaics of the Piazzale
dell'Impero at the entrance is devoted to the praise of the invasion of
Ethiopia in 1936 (fig. 9). The mosaics are cramped with fasces (fig. 10), the symbol of the Fascist party (see Classical
Symbolism in the Foro Mussolini). The mosaics add politics and war into the
Foro Mussolini and relate a seemingly apolitical part of life to violent
conquest.
Fascist propaganda was extremely concerned with
the cult of the leader, and the Foro Mussolini was no exception. Every part of
the complex has the stamp of the Duce on it, from the massive obelisk at the
entrance to the mosaics with their repetitions of DVCE DVCE DVCE. Stylized Ms
with fasces appear throughout the mosaics as well (fig. 11). Even though an
image of Benito Mussolini is not depicted anywhere in the Foro Mussolini,
unlike much of the printed propaganda of the time,[9] he is present in the whole
stadium. Wherever a visitor goes in the Foro Mussolini, the specter of the Duce
haunts him. The whole complex was a part of massive public works programs in
Rome and was a way for Mussolini and the Fascists to claim Rome as their own.
Classical Symbolism in the Foro Mussolini
The public works program that included the Foro
Mussolini was an extension of Mussolini's attempt to model himself after the
Roman emperor Augustus (27 BCE-14 CE) who greatly improved the city of Rome and
built the Forum of Augustus. From the invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, Benito
Mussolini established the "New Roman Empire" based on the glory of the ancient
Roman Empire under Emperor Augustus.[10] Throughout the 1920s and
1930s, Mussolini sought to unify Italy under his imperial power through the use
of Classical motifs that bespoke Italy's glorious ancient past.[11] The appropriation of
ancient Roman visual culture to hearken back to Augustus has been an area of
intense study since the 1980s, but some of the symbolism is worthy of
discussion related to the Foro Mussolini, which is packed to the rafters with
Ancient Roman symbols of power. The mosaics on the pathways of the Piazzale
dell'Impero hearken back to the opus
tesselatum (black and white) mosaics found at the ancient Roman port city
of Ostia outside Rome (fig. 12). The mosaics at the Foro Mussolini could easily
be mistaken for the ancient ones at Ostia, were it not for the addition of
contemporary subjects. While many of the subjects of these mosaics are
contemporary in nature and depict tanks, airplanes, and contemporary Italian
soldiers, some depict ancient figures and symbols (fig. 13, 14, 15). The "Lupa"
or the famous statue of the she-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus, shows up
several times (fig. 16), as an ancient symbol of the foundation of Rome and a
reference to the bronze sculpture thought until recently to be an ancient
Etruscan work (fig. 17). The symbol of the Lupa represents the mythological
foundations of Rome, and its presence in the Foro Mussolini links the Fascist
government with Rome's prestigious ancient history. The inclusion of the Lupa
in proximity to the repeated references to the Duce (Mussolini's title, which
itself is derived from an ancient Latin word) makes a clear connection between
Italy's new emperor and Romulus, the half-divine founder of Rome.
The most common ancient symbol in the Foro
Mussolini is the fasces, or bundle of
sticks with an axe on the end. Fasces
appear in the Foro Mussolini as simplistic geometric forms, detailed mosaic
pictures, and as huge marble props for statues (fig. 10, 18, 19). In ancient
Rome, the fasces were a symbol of
authority carried by officials called Lictors. Mussolini and the Fascists
adopted the fasces as the official
symbol of their regime, and after 1926 it became ubiquitous in Fascist art,
architecture and design.[12] The symbol itself
represents unity. All of the sticks are bundled together into one fasces, symbolizing one Italy bound
together by Fascism. The symbol also has a more sinister undertone represented
by the axe head bound to the end. Mussolini appropriated the ancient symbol and
used it to legitimize his imperial regime by connecting it with the symbols of
ancient Rome.
The statues of the Stadio dei Marmi themselves
show Classical influences. Statues are the art most easily associated with the
ancient world. Statues bespeak dignity and natural grace and have been regarded
since the Italian Renaissance as the highest of art forms. Their heroic nude
bodies may not be stylistically the same as an ancient statue, but their
stature, composition, and even material shows the influence of the Classical
tradition. While most of the statues show contemporary sports, there are
several statues with definite Classical themes, especially the statue of Rome
(fig. 20), who is modeled after the demigod hero Hercules with his club and
lion skin. Most of the statues in the Stadio dei Marmi, while adhering to
contemporary artistic ideals, are shown in the Classical contrapposto position.
Even their size hearkens back to the colossal statues from the Baths of
Caracalla near the Aventine hill in Rome (fig. 21).
The stadium and gymnasium themselves are
symbols of ancient Greek and Roman ideals of bodily perfection and health that
were common in ancient societies. In ancient Greece, the gymnasium was a
communal place where young men could exercise and perfect their bodies.[13] Likewise, Roman baths had
areas for lifting and exercising (palaestra)
to use before entering the bath areas of the bathing complex.[14] The tie to the Classical
is not limited to the personal fitness complexes of the gymnasia and stadiums;
the Foro Mussolini was also home to the Olympic Stadium and the Italian Olympic
headquarters. The modern Olympic games were modeled on the ancient Greek games
that took place in Olympia. Some of the mosaics depict ancient and modern
Olympic events side-by-side to emphasize the connection to the ancient sport
tradition. All of these Classical symbols permeate the Foro Mussolini and
create an environment that simultaneously feels ancient and modern, while
strengthening the Fascist claim to power through connection with the revered
Classical societies of Ancient Greece and Rome.
Foro Mussolini and Sports Culture
The Foro Mussolini was one example of a
movement of sports and education that spread across Rome and was characterized
by the building of many new schools and gymnasia. Italian Fascist ideology
praised and embraced both education and physical exercise as the way to nurture
a healthy, growing Fascist child.[15] The Foro Mussolini was
the centerpiece of this movement. The youth hostel, swimming pool, and events
hosted at the Stadio dei Marmi provided opportunities for youths to perfect
themselves through exercise and recreation. The home for sickly youths also
operated on the same principles of fresh air and exercise as the way to cure
sickness and frailty. The movement spread throughout the city of Rome in the
form of new school buildings, gymnasia, and facilities for youth groups. Youth
groups even left their mark on the mosaics in the Foro Mussolini. Near the
Fountain of the Sphere in the center (fig. 5), the words OPERA BALILLA are
repeated over and over in the mosaic (fig. 22). The Opera Nazionale Balilla was
one of the Fascist youth groups that sought to mold young Fascist minds as much
as their bodies. The name Opera Nazionale Balilla comes from Balilla, the
nickname of the young boy in Genoa who started the riots against Austria in
1746. Children had a chance to become figli
del Lupa (children of the She-Wolf) when they were as young as 6 and
advance through the stages until they became adult party members.[16] Youth and sports culture
will be discussed further and more in-depth in the section on Fascist
masculinity and the creation of new Italians.
The Stadio dei Marmi was one of the first parts
of the Foro Mussolini to be completed and opened four years after the beginning
of construction in 1932.[17] Each statue came from and
represented a different city in Italy. These cities also happen to give their
names to provinces of Italy. Italy is divided into regions, and then further
divided into provinces. Most of the cities are lesser known to non-Italians
such as Cremona, Pistoia, and Potenza. Under Mussolini, the stadium was almost
always filled with youth groups and Fascist Party activities. Each of the
statues is different because they were donated by each city as a gift and many
have different artists.
Statues as a Symbol of National Unity
Regionalism and the Unification of Italy
After
the fall of the Roman Empire, the Italian peninsula divided into regions and
only unified into Italy, as we know it today, in 1870 (although the Kingdom of
Italy was declared in 1861).[18] Italy is a remarkably
regional country, with many barriers to unification, including geographical,
linguistic, and even culinary.
Before the Middle Ages, the Italian peninsula was split into regions,
which then formed into city-states and kingdoms. As David Gilmour puts it in
his recent examination of regional Italy, The
Pursuit of Italy, "… A landscape which encourages cultural diversity is
almost bound to produce political disunity."[19] That is one of the many
reasons that the Italian city-states remained autonomous until the French
Revolution in 1789 led to political upheaval in the Italian peninsula.
Following the French Revolution, the Italian monarchies were ruled by French
and then Austrian rulers.[20] Prince Metternich, the
Austrian monarch, referred to the Italian Peninsula as "A mere geographical
expression," and emphasized the differences between the regions in order to
strengthen the authority Austrians had over the Italian kingdoms.[21] By the 1830s, the desire
for independence from foreign influence gave the Italians a common enemy
against whom to fight.
The
unification of Italy was not the easy or glorious cause that some might have
hoped. Even though the Italians desired their independence from Austria, there
were many different ideas about what a unified Italy should look like. For
Giuseppe Mazzini, the founder of the Risorgimento
movement, Italy should be free and unified as one Italian nation, despite the fact
that the regions did not even speak the same language. For his contemporary,
Carlo Cattaneo, Italy should retain its fierce competition between regions and
retain the freedom of the regions just like it had in the Renaissance.[22] From the outset, the idea
of Italian unity struggled with the fierce regional pride of many areas of
Italy.
The
process of unifying Italy was long and arduous. After the revolutions of 1848
failed to unify all of Italy and expel the Austrians, the possible outcome for
Italy looked bleak. The revolution had revealed how divided Italy was amongst
factions, regions, and classes. But although at the outset it had seemed that
the revolution of 1848 had failed, in fact it had legitimized the revolutionary
movement through their support from the Piedmonts, the ruling family of the
Kingdom of Sardinia.[23] The decade after the
failure of the revolution was the decade of Count Camillo Benso di Cavour, a
Piedmontese liberal who intervened in the politics of Piedmont, and was
responsible for the treaty with France that eventually led to the downfall of
the Austrians in 1860. While Cavour was uniting the North of Italy, Giuseppe
Garibaldi, a revolutionary in the south of Italy, united the south through
revolution. In 1861, Garibaldi handed over the south of Italy to the first king
of unified Italy, Victor Emanuel II of Savoy. The unification of Italy is a
vast, complex, and exhilarating topic that this paper has not been able to do
justice. For a fuller account, consult, The
Pursuit of Italy by David Gilmour, "Italy 1796-1870: The Age of the
Risorgimento" by John A. Davis from The
Oxford Illustrated History of Italy, or The
Force of Destiny by Christopher Duggan.
Declaring
the country unified did not magically dissolve all of the regional identities
and tensions. Some of the northern provinces and regions lamented their loss of
power over other regions as the peninsula was unified and were unhappy with the
new king of Italy, who was not their first choice for monarch.[24] In addition to the
division between previously autonomous regions, there was a divide between the
affluent, industrial north and the poor, rural south.[25] When the Piedmonts went
south for the first time after the unification of Italy, it seemed to them that
southern Italy was another continent altogether.[26] Prejudice and racism
abounded from northerners from both Italy and the Continent. Many people from
northern Italy believed themselves to be a race altogether different from their
southern countrymen and the "Southern Question" of how to deal with the poor,
mafia-riddled south started after unification and existed in Mussolini's time
as well. In fact, the north/south divide plagues Italy even to this day; with
the Lega Nord political group in Lombard seeking secession from the south to
protect their own interests.[27]
Fascism, Nationalism, and the Stadio dei Marmi
as Fasces
In
the early 20th century, the regional divide between areas of Italy
took a smaller role as Italy finally entered World War I in 1917. After the
war, through the Treaty of Saint-Germain, their territory grew to include
Trentino, South Tyrol, Trieste, and several islands in the Adriatic Sea.[28] The number of regions
with different cultures grew and so did the divide between them. After 1860,
politicians realized that making Italy was the easy task and that the next task
would be to make Italians. From 1860 to 1945 the main goal of politicians in
Italy was to nationalize Italy.[29] After the signing of the
Treaty of Saint-Germain in 1919, there was more of Italy to nationalize. As
such, when Mussolini took power in 1922, one of his first priorities was
creating a national (Fascist) identity.
The
symbol of his party reflected Mussolini's desire to nationalize and
fascisticize Italy. As R.J.B. Bosworth writes in his book, Mussolini's Italy, "Fascism was much given to enthusing about
unity; its own symbol, the fasces–lictor's
rods tied with rope and made more ominous by an axe, sharpened for the
punishment of dissenters, traitors, and enemies, pledged the dictatorship to
bind Italians inseparably together."[30] The fasces has already been introduced with regard to its connection to
Classical motifs in the Foro Mussolini, but for Mussolini it was imbued with
many meanings, with the unification and nationalization of Italy at the fore.
In
the mosaics of the Foro Mussolini, the fasces
is omnipresent. There are stylized geometric
fasces, naturalistic looking fasces,
and fasces intertwined with the
letter M to represent Mussolini (fig. 10, 11, 18). In contrast, the Stadio dei
Marmi located right next to the mosaics, there is only one fasces depicted in the whole stadium, held by the figure of
Littoria (fig. 19). One possible explanation is that the stadium itself
functions as a fasces. Each statue represents a province of Italy and was
created by an artist from that region. The massive statues come together into a
circle bound by their Italian identity. The statues of the Stadio dei Marmi
represent the differences between regions of Italy through their drastically
different designs. Some are hugely muscled and fierce, while others are soft
and androgynous. And yet, despite all of the differences in appearance, the
statues are all made of the same Carrara marble. But the statues are not the
only men included in this new national identity. The huge circle of statues
embraces the spectators and athletes into its Fascist Italian identity. To a
visitor, the experience is akin to the embrace of the arms of Bernini's
colonnade in St. Peter's Square at the Vatican. In both places the visitor
encircled in the monumental white arms of an architectural program, and in both
places the assumption is that once you are held by the Catholic Church or
Fascist Italian identity, there is no chance for escape. The statues are both
bound by the ropes of the fasces, and
function as the ropes themselves, binding those in the stadium together under
their watchful gaze.
Many
of the statues of the Stadio dei Marmi are engaged in sports from their
regions. The figures from mountainous Bolzano (fig. 23) and Aquila (fig. 24)
are nude men with ski equipment; Venice (fig. 25) is a sailor, and Pola (fig. 26)
a swimmer since both cities are port cities. The circle of statues celebrates
the different regions of Italy and their geographic uniqueness, but declares
them Italian through the uniform color, size, and athletic nature of the
statues. According to the Stadio dei Marmi, the Fascist national identity is
one that celebrates difference but only to a certain extent. Pride in one's
region is acceptable, but only so long as one's primary identity is Italian and
Fascist.
Hidden Violence in the Stadio dei Marmi
While
the picture of unified Italy that Enrico del Debbio paints in the Stadio dei
Marmi is happy and peaceful, in reality the stadium does not show the violence
of the relationships that some of these provinces had with the Fascist
government. Now we must discuss the axe of the fasces, the sharp edge that keeps the sticks securely in their
place. Several of these provinces were victims of the Fascist government
despite the Stadio dei Marmi's representation of one unified Italy of beautiful
statues.
Bolzano
Bolzano is a city in the North of Italy in the
region of South Tyrol. As was mentioned above, the region of South Tyrol only
became a part of Italy in 1919, with the Treaty of Saint-Germain.[31] Bolzano was an ethnically
German city that was called Bozen before 1919. The Treaty of Saint-Germain
"returned" South Tyrol to Italy, although it had only been Italian briefly in
the 17th century.[32] To this day, in the
region of South Tyrol, German is one of the main languages. When Mussolini came
to power, the region, and Bolzano in particular were the victims of forced
Italianization. The Bolzano Victory Monument (fig. 27), a triumphal arch in
Bolzano tells the story of the Fascist overthrow of the previously Germanic
culture. Italian became the obligatory language, in a place where ninety
percent of people spoke German.[33] The arch, erected in
1926, and designed by Marcello Piacentini, is a Fascist monument that declares
the city Italian in the fashion of ancient Roman triumphal arches. The Latin
inscription on the top of the monument translates as "Here at the boundaries of
the Fatherland set up the standards. Henceforth, we improved the others through
language, laws, and skills."[34] To this day, the monument
has a bad reputation in Bolzano, where the ethnic Germans still resent the
actions of the Fascist party. The Tyroleans were treated like conquered,
colonialized people instead of fellow countrymen, and some even hoped that
Hitler would save them by retaking the territory.[35] The benign face of the
skier in the Stadio dei Marmi (fig. 23) reveals nothing of the problems that
the Tyroleans faced under Mussolini.[36]
Trieste
and Pola
In
the same vein as the figure of Bolzano, the figures of Trieste (fig. 28) and
Pola (fig. 26) hide ethnic tensions. Trieste was another one of the territories
that Italy gained in the Treaty of Saint-Germain in 1919. Trieste is located in
Northeastern Italy, in a small strip of costal land between the Adriatic Sea
and Slovenia. Because of its location, it is an ethnically diverse place with
ethnic Italians living there along with Slavs and Germans. Pola (now Pula) is
another port city located in modern-day Croatia. Pola was the capital of the
province of Istria, located on the coast. Like Trieste, Istria was a diverse
province and many ethnic Slavs lived there. While Mussolini's repression of the
Italians in the central parts of Italy was not horribly oppressive, his actions
towards the border provinces was much more repressive. Like in Bolzano, the
spoken language in the province, Slovene, was banned and the Slavs there faced
harsh repression. Later in Mussolini's rule, he urged Italians to treat Slavs
as inferior people.[37] A telling statistic about
capital punishment in Fascist Italy: before World War II, in five out of nine
cases of capital punishment, the men that the Special Tribunal sentenced to
death were "Slav Nationalists."[38] A visitor to the Stadio
dei Marmi can see nothing of these ethnic tensions while studying the
magnificent ring of statues. With the Stadio dei Marmi, Enrico del Debbio
designed a perfect view of unified Italy that hides all manner of ethnic
tensions.
Fiume
Many of the names on the statues of the Stadio
dei Marmi might be foreign and unknown to today's American visitor. Fiume (fig.
29) is no exception, as a visitor to the site, I was confused and had never
heard of the province or city of Fiume. The massive statue of Fiume gives no
hints as to where it might be, he is simply a huge muscular man holding an
obscured object above his heard. Fiume is a port city in modern-day Croatia
that the Italians were not guaranteed to annex after World War I in the Treaty
of London of 1915.[39] In 1919, during
negotiations for the Treaty of Saint-Germain, the Italians attempted to gain
even more territory than had been promised and expand into Fiume. Instead, the
League of Nations set up Fiume as an independent free state and neutral city.
In 1919, Gabriele D'Annunzio, a poet and soldier, invaded Fiume and set up an
Italian state. Between 1919 and 1922 when Mussolini took power, Fiume bounced
back and forth between a free state and an Italian territory until Mussolini
successfully performed a coup d'état.
Fiume was another forced territory of Italy for the duration of World War II
until 1947 when it was incorporated into Yugoslavia.[40]
North
and South
Despite all of Mussolini's posturing and
rhetoric about unity, the divide between North and South remained ingrained
throughout the interwar period of Mussolini's rule. Even though all of the
statues in the Stadio dei Marmi receive equal privilege in the circle of
statues, not all cities were treated alike under Fascism, as has been discussed
with regard to the territories incorporated after World War I. All of the statues in the Stadio dei
Marmi are the same "race" although they differ from statue to statue. Early in
the unification of Italy, Southern Italians were considered to be closer in
race to the East or Africa and less related to Europeans because of their
"barbarism."[41]
Although Mussolini professed to help bridge the divide between North and South,
the reforms he actually enacted were few and far between. The south of Italy
was treated as a "no man's land" separated from the cultural and industrial
North.[42] The south was also the
destination for those who were suffering the punishment of confino, or forced exile, for political dissent.[43] Even though the Fascists
professed that one of their goals was to bridge the divide between North and
South and showed their desire for unity in their symbol of the fasces, ultimately they treated southern
Italy and Sicily as a barbarous backwater, fit only for criminals. The unity
presented in the Stadio dei Marmi was ultimately a sham and the divide between
North and South only deepened after World War II. If Mussolini had taken more
action to back up all of his posturing, perhaps the gleaming circle of statues
might be a more accurate representation of Italy and less of a quaint relic.
Statues as a Symbol of Fascist Masculinity
The New Heroic Nude
Although these statues are based on the
Classical tradition of heroic nudes, at a first glance one can tell that they
are different. These are no frivolous, self-centered ephebes. There is
something in the lines of their bodies and their blunt, direct gazes that makes
them fiercer and more violent than their Classical or Neo-Classical
counterparts (such as fig. 30). The figure of Rome, dressed as Hercules with a
Nemeian Lion skin around his head, is one of the best examples of this. The
figure of Rome (fig. 20) arrests the viewer immediately with his gaze. There is
something about this statue and the hard lines of his expression that makes him
distinctly different from an ancient statue. It is in his posture and his gaze
that shows that the attention of the subject is outward, not inward. He is
present and not absent. He is aware of danger and yet is not frightened, only
determined. For the statue of Rome, the difference is in the bold straight
lines of the brow, the lean tightness of his muscles, and the large scale of
his hands and feet. Even his hair refuses to be frivolous, eschewing the
elegant frolicsome curls of antiquity for the close-cropped hair he wears under
his lion skin.
The
figure of Venice (fig. 25) is equally different from the Classical tradition.
He is dymanic and lithe, a sailor arched backwards with the sail of his boat.
His face is not even visible at a first glance, he is less a man than he is a
series of striking lines. The curved line of the core of his body combined with
the lines of his arms and sharp slash of his chin barely even reference the
Classical ideal. He is too lithe and dynamic, with his head thrown back as if
against the wind, to be an ancient hero. He retains the same geometric style of
the statue of Rome as Hercules, with the simplistic waves below his boat, the
crisp lines of the sail, and the overall triangle of the composition. Venice is
one of the most visually intriguing statues of the Stadio dei Marmi,
particularly because of his dynamism and movement, which is in contrast to the
heavy solidness of many of his counterparts throughout the stadium.
The
figure of Pola (fig. 26), discussed earlier for his city's connection to the
mistreatment of ethnic Slavs is another example of the striking difference of
these statues. The figure of Pola is a diver ready to spring into the water.
His arms are held out awkwardly at his sides while his weight is on his toes,
ready to dive. His head is jutting forward and his neck is at an uncomfortable
angle. Then there is the fish. There is a massive fish coming down to the base
of the statue from his buttocks (fig. 31). The fish is almost comical with a
cartoonish frown on his giant face. What Pola has in common with many of his
compatriots in the Stadio dei Marmi is a serious scowl on his face. While some
of these statues have expressionless placid faces, many wear deep frowns or
angry scowls, in contrast to the Classical heroic nude tradition of vacant
self-absorbed expressions. The figure of Ragusa (fig. 32) wears another Fascist
scowl as he prepares to serve a tennis ball. Ancona (fig. 33) is one of the
meanest figures, with a hard face and mouth looking down as he crushes a lion's
head beneath his foot. What is this new heroic nude, and how does it connect
with the new Fascist ideals of masculinity in Italy?
The New Masculine: Wolves out of Sheep
When
Mussolini took power he saw a deficiency in the masculinity of the Italian
people. He viewed the decadence that had set in during the Renaissance as
antithetical to Fascism, and thought that it produced a population of "sheep,"
obsessed with academic learning, overindulgent and flabby.[44] One of the ways he sought
to change this was through the emphasis on the perfection of the body through
sport and the decrease in availability of alcohol and other products that
contributed to the perceived weakness of men.[45] In place of this old
sense of masculinity defined by intelligence and opulence, Mussolini sought to
create a new warlike, active man. In a speech in 1926, he remarked on what
classified the new Fascist lifestyle, "First and foremost courage.
Fearlessness, love of risk, and loathing of comfort and easy living. Being
always prepared to dare in the personal as well as the public and to abhor all
that is sedentary."[46] The cult of athleticism
that followed the First World War and grew strongest in the inter-war period
took root in Italy and blossomed through the ONB youth group culture discussed
earlier.[47]
The "New Hercules" of Fascist Italy was a man whose body had been perfected
through exercise and who used his body to fight for Italy and Fascism.[48] Mussolini sought to
create a new population of Italians and change the character of Italians
through activity and exercise.[49] Sports and athleticism
were regarded as being necessary for the progress of the Italian race, as
important as the waging of war.[50]
The statues of the Stadio dei Marmi perfectly
reflect this change in the definition of masculinity. They are lean and
muscular to a one. Even the ones with huge muscles show no signs of fleshiness
that can be found in ancient statues. Their accoutrements (skis, tennis
rackets, soccer balls, etc.) show them to be athletes of the highest order
while the fierce expressions that many wear show them to be warlike,
competitive, and mean. The statues of the Stadio dei Marmi are examples of the
epitome of Fascist masculinity, warriors disguised as athletes. The statue that
best exemplifies this combination of sports and war is the figure of Trento
(fig. 34), who is located outside the Olympic Headquarters instead of inside
the circle of statues. He is a Classical style statue, nude but for a pair of
sandals, with his hair tucked up into the style of a Greek kouros (fig. 35), long hair braided around his head like a diadem.
His face, however, is geometric and hard in the same style as the other
statues. A quiver of arrows leans
against his supporting leg and he holds his right fist aloft. Pressed against
his chest is a geometric shape that is undoubtedly a bird that he has shot
(fig. 36). The statue represents an athlete with a deadly edge. He is a warning
to all those who would cross him: he is not only an athlete, but also a skilled
warrior unafraid to kill.
Similarly, this photo (fig. 37) of a young
gymnast in the Stadio dei Marmi in the 1930s is the perfect example of the
real-life combination of athleticism and war. The gymnast leaps over a line of
bayonets pointed up, a dangerous feat, combining the Fascist athletic culture
with the mechanisms of war. As he jumps over the bayonets, the statues in the
background of the stadium tower over as marble versions of the brave athletes in
the stadium.
Sons of the She-Wolf
When the Hitler Youth came to visit Rome, they
made an appearance in the Stadio dei Marmi.[51] The relationship between
the stadium and fascist youth culture runs deep. The one area of fascist
propaganda and indoctrination that the Italian Fascists excelled at far beyond
the Nazis was youth group participation.[52] The Opera Nazionale
Balilla (ONB), discussed previously in the introduction, was a powerful
organization in Fascist Italy. Until 1939, participation was not compulsory,
but if a boy or girl did not participate they faced discrimination when
considered for scholarships or jobs.[53] This coercion into
participation created a large population of citizens to mould into the image of
perfect, athletic Fascists. The young men played with guns, participated in
sports, and got more education than was provided in the schools of Fascist
Italy.[54] The sons of the She-Wolf
sharpened their teeth through participation in the ONB.
The
aesthetics of these statues also mark them as sons of the Lupa (the She-Wolf of
the legend of Romulus and Remus). The bronze statue of the Lupa in the
Capitoline Museums (fig. 17) has been viewed as the symbol of Rome because of
its subject matter and because scholars believed until recently that the statue
was Etruscan, from the fifth century BCE. Recent scholarship has all but proven
that the statue is from the 1200s, but its popularity as a symbol of Rome had a
resurgence under Mussolini. She even shows up twice in the mosaics on the
Piazzale dell'Impero. Aesthetically, the statues of the Stadio dei Marmi draw
many influences from her instead of their Classical counterparts, like this
statue of Hercules (fig. 30). The Lupa is thin and haggard, with a dynamic
facial expression and patterned fur. The archaic aspects of the Lupa (patterned
fur, abstracted facial features, etc.) had a great connection to the
stylization of art in the 1920s and '30s.[55] The statues of the Stadio
dei Marmi evoke the Lupa with their direct gazes and their tight skin that
shows no evidence of fat. In this way, these statues are the true figli del Lupa, showing no signs of the
decadence or frivolity that the Classical Hercules does.
The Complexities of the Italian "Race"
In
Nazi Germany, the athletic culture and the art of the new heroic nude was
inextricably linked to racial supremacy and the myth of the Aryan übermensch. Implicit in that ideology is
the persecution of "others," especially Jews. Theories of race were essential
to the character of Nazism and led the ideology down the path of violence and
mass murder.[56]
Racial theory in Italy was much more complex. Although there is a Fascist
version of racism, it was very difficult for the Italians to create a concept
of an Italian race because of the differences between the regions of Italy.
Italians in the 1920s barely spoke the same language as one another, so the
concept of race beyond "Mediterranean" was one that was less likely to
captivate the Italian people.[57] As Christopher Duggan
says in his book on modern Italian history, The
Force of Destiny, "References to an Italian razza or stirpe had
punctuated the speeches and writings of Mussolini from the outset of the
regime, but such language derived more from a Nationalist preoccupation with
generating a spirit of national cohesion and identity in Italy than from any
obvious biological platform."[58] Thus these statues may
have the same roots in totalitarian athletic culture and new masculinity, but
they do not hold the same link to biological racial superiority and mass murder
that a statue in a similar style made by the Nazis would have. This is not to
say, however, that the Italian Fascists were not responsible for the
persecution of "others." Although Jews had been living in Italy since the days
of the Ancient Romans, Mussolini introduced anti-Semitic legislation in 1938 in
his attempt to win favor with Hitler.[59] Although other races did
end up suffering at the hands of Mussolini, and the new ideals of Fascist
masculinity sought to create one Italian race, ultimately the statues of the
Stadio dei Marmi bear few of the connotations of race that their German
counterparts do.
Androgynous Men: The Counterpoint to the
Hypermasculine
There
are several statues that provide a counterpoint to the hypermasculine in the
Stadio dei Marmi. The statues of Pisa (fig. 38), Rovigo (fig. 39), Catania
(fig. 40), and Potenza (fig. 41) are all thin, lithe, and almost feminine in
their looks. The androgynous statues of the Stadio dei Marmi are somewhat of a
mystery to the modern viewer, and should be discussed at length in another
paper. My observation is that the androgyny of these statues is the effect of
the thinning of the muscle combined with the Classical contrapposto position
with the weight on one leg. Since Mussolini was obsessed with the men of his
time becoming thinner and more powerful, the reduction of the appearance of fat
on the statues gives them a thinner, smoother line that becomes a curve when
the weight is shifted to one side. This effect gives these statues the
appearance of curved hips. The statues of Pisa and Rovigo, most likely made by
the same sculptor, have the added loincloths, which emphasize this curve instead
of detracting from it. Additionally, none of these statues have the same shorn
hair of the statues that emphasize their masculinity. In the case of these
statues, I argue that it is the sculptor's intention to focus more on the
modern aesthetics of thin lines, patterned hair, and geometric facial features
than to create statues that are extremely masculine. These statues also all
look like younger men, perhaps even teenagers, which would enhance the Stadio's
connection to the ONB youth movement. While these statues are certainly
different in style from their warlike compatriots, they ultimately display the
same Fascist virtues of lean living and sport culture.
Stadio dei Marmi as Public Art
In the introduction to this paper, I began by
giving a tour of the Foro Mussolini (now Foro Italico) as it stands today. The
Foro Mussolini today is a very strange and contradictory place. The statues and
seats of the Stadio dei Marmi are allowed to weather and age in the sun while
great swaths of the mosaics in the Piazzale dell'Impero are repaired and
restored (fig. 42), including the slogan "MOLTO NEMICI MOLTO ONORE," meaning
"many enemies much honor," (fig. 43). The public Fascist monument seems to the
visitor to simultaneously be a monument worthy of pride and shame. The uneven
care for the monuments seems to reflect the conflicted relationship with the
Fascist past, and the question of why the monuments at the Foro Mussolini still
remain.
The Past
After the liberation of Rome, in 1944, the Foro
Mussolini and the Monolito (obelisk of Mussolini) were saved from destruction
by American occupying troops. The Fifth Army troops occupied the site and
prevented the mobs of Romans from attempting to destroy all traces of
Mussolini's rule from the city.[60] The question remains: why
did the Americans see fit to protect this monument while they were
simultaneously destroying Nazi monuments in Germany? Part of war is the
destruction of monuments, and this can be seen as recently as the destruction
of the 40-foot statue of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad in 2003. In 1946, the Allied
forces in Germany issued the directive that ordered "The Liquidation of German
Military and Nazi Memorials and Museums."[61] Borden W. Painter Jr.
argues in his book Mussolini's Rome
that the reason that the Americans prevented the destruction of the site was
that the pro-Fascist propaganda messages were simply too deeply ingrained. In
order to wipe away Mussolini, the angry Romans would have had to obliterate the
entire complex.[62]
The Foro Mussolini was also useful to the American and Allied troops, and they
began using the site as a US Army Rest Center (fig. 44). [63]
While researching this topic, the question of
why the Americans saved the Foro Mussolini continued to present itself. I argue
that Painter Jr. is correct, that the destruction of the site would have had to
be complete to wipe away the traces of Fascism, but that is not explanation
enough for the complex remaining untouched. The complex's usefulness probably
had more to do with the Americans standing in the way of Romans tearing it
down. The complex includes many useful buildings, at the time only just over a
decade old. Despite the place's ties to Mussolini, it was a perfect place for
the Allied troops to set up an Army Rest Center. They would have been loath to
lose the site to the destruction of the mob. The buildings were also easily
adapted for the needs of an Army Rest Center, especially the youth hostel,
which was already equipped for housing. The Stadio dei Marmi was also the
perfect place for men to stay fit and exercise, as shown in this postcard of
Americans playing football (fig. 45) from World War II.
The
Americans had also just faced a disaster with the bombing of the Monte Cassino
Abbey (one of the earliest Christian abbeys) in early 1944 (fig. 46).[64] Monte Cassino is located
81 miles outside Rome and in early 1944 the Allies believed the Nazis occupied
the abbey. This led to the severe bombing of the abbey and a large loss of life
that did not include the Nazi forces who were entrenched around the abbey. Even
though Polish forces eventually took the abbey, now reduced to rubble, the
whole situation was a disaster that received much news coverage. In response to
the negative reaction to the bombing of Monte Cassino, Allied Monuments
officers were among the first to enter the city of Rome on June 4, 1944. In
fact, one Monuments officer entered the city ahead of the combat troops.[65] It is not unreasonable to
assume that the Allied officers would not be eager to allow destruction in the
city, even of monuments related to Mussolini, that might lead to accidental
destruction of older cultural monuments. Despite the rationalist, clean
aesthetic of the Foro Mussolini, it was most likely not the beauty of the
monuments that led the Allies to protect it. It was far more useful to them
intact and its destruction could have led to another disaster on the level of
Monte Cassino.
In fact, Lieutenant General Mark W. Clark
issued orders for the whole Fifth Army to comport themselves in a manner that
would be a credit to the U.S. and the Allies while they were stationed in Rome.
In a memo to the Commanders of the Fifth Army, Clark said, "Rome is a center of
ancient and artistic monuments of all kinds: buildings, museums, art galleries,
etc… The Army Commander desires and has confidence that no member of the Fifth
Army will cast discredit on his army or his country…"[66] There was also brutal
repression of iconoclastic riots in Rome, those attempts at a damnatio memoriae, a total purge of
Fascism from the city.[67] All of this adds up to a
picture of the protection of the Foro Mussolini for practical, not artistic or
aesthetic reasons. Despite the fact that the site evokes the grandeur of
ancient Rome, this had little to do with its preservation. In fact, the Foro
Mussolini was considered more of a novelty by the American troops than a true
artistic monument. The Foro Mussolini's usefulness and its location just
outside the historic center of Rome saved it from destruction after the fall of
Fascism in Rome.
The Present
The
occupation of Rome by the Allied troops does not, however, explain why it is
still in use and intact today. The usefulness of the buildings does explain
some of the reason why the buildings are still in use. The Italian Olympic
Headquarters simply stayed where it had been before the war and the Forestria
Nord, or youth hostel, is still operational today. Because of the nature of the
complex, a state-of-the-art sport haven, it was easy to build on to the
existing structures, which they did, adding more tennis courts and the World
Cup stadium in place of the old Olympic Stadium. After the war, all available
resources went into rebuilding the damaged country and not into the eradication
of all signs of Mussolini, so the monument was saved from destruction after the
Fifth Army left in 1948.[68] When the Stadio dei Marmi
was unveiled in 1932 it was hailed by the regime as having the best modern
seating and equipment and had a huge photo on the front page of the Italian
newspaper, Il Messaggero (fig. 47). [69] The front page spread in Il Messaggero stresses the high capacity
of the Stadio dei Marmi, which could seat twenty thousand spectators.[70] A few years later it was
hailed as "one of the most imposing and important [stadiums] in the world," by Travel in Italy.[71] The Stadio dei Marmi was
even featured as one of Rome's great monuments on a stamp in 1933 in a series
about the cruise of the Graf Zeppelin (fig. 48).[72] All of this suggests that
there might have been some pride in the monuments, especially considering their
heavy use and renovation during the 1960 Olympic Games.[73] However, its use for the
Olympics was not without controversy. 1959 was the first time there had been
any restoration of the mosaics, and some felt that it was a missed opportunity
to use the same money to wipe out the signs of the Fascist past.[74] Interestingly, the
Christian Democrat party did censor something in the former Foro Mussolini;
they commissioned bronze fig leaves to cover the genitals of the nude statues
in the Stadio dei Marmi. Clearly, they were more scandalized by nudity than the
marks of Fascist oppression that permeate the complex.[75]
According to Alessandra Stanley of the New York
Times, the attitude toward the Foro Mussolini changed in the early 1990s with
the end of the Cold War. She says that between the 1960 Olympics and then the
monument (and all Fascist building projects) was treated with ambivalence or
mocked as ancient relics of Fascism. If not either of those then the most
likely reaction to the monuments would be one of disgust for the symbols of
totalitarian oppression within the monuments.[76]
The change in the opinions of the public
coincides with the end of the Cold War and the disintegration of the Soviet
Union and a lessening of the fears of totalitarianism to which the Post-World-War-II
West was prey for years. There are many reasons for the softening of attitudes
towards the Foro Mussolini including the increasing separation from the fascist
past and the self-conception of the Romans as members of the Resistance under
the 9 months of Nazi occupation. Many lost their lives fighting or through
retaliation for the guerrilla tactics of the Resistenza. The whole Jewish ghetto of Rome had brutally rounded up
and been sent to concentration camps by the occupying Nazis.[77] Because of the Resistenza movement in Rome, the
citizens of Rome for many years after World War II associated themselves with
that spirit of resistance rather than than the Fascist Rome that embraced
Mussolini and his ideology. The existence of an anti-Nazi movement in Rome
makes the destruction of Fascist monuments less essential to Italians than for
Germans. In contemporary Germany, the process of counter-memorializing the
Holocaust is ongoing and fraught with debate, scrutiny, and self-reflection.[78] While there is
controversy surrounding the monuments of the Fascist past in Rome, the
monuments stay, albeit with names changed.
The Fascist monuments also stay because no one
can agree upon what to do with them. For some, as stated above, cleansing the
city was not necessary because they no longer associated themselves with the
Fascist past. However, some still believe that the monuments represent a dark
spot in the nation's history and should not be celebrated or renovated. Still
more, especially neo-Fascists, believe that the Foro Italico should remain
intact and reflect the strength and dignity of Mussolini's vision for Italy.[79] The result is the
never-ending struggle to decide what to do about these monuments of Fascism.
The example of the Ara Pacis Museum in the historic center of Rome is one
example of this controversy. The altar, made under the emperor Augustus in 13
BCE, was housed in a museum built under Mussolini until 2006. In 2006 the new
building, designed by American architect Richard Meier, opened to great conflict.
The right-wing then mayor of Rome, Gianni Alemanno, vowed to tear the building
down.[80] He has not followed
through on this threat, but the building continues to be a source of argument.
The same arguments have surrounded the Foro Italico and its Fascist symbols. In
some ways, the sports complex has been saved by its provocative Fascist agenda.
So long as there is argument surrounding the place, it is safer from harm
because it is so difficult to make a decision about it.
America and the Foro Italico
In 2000, the Stadio dei Marmi went up for sale
and was met with defense from Italy's right wing party, Alleanza Nazionale.[81] One of the interested
parties was an American firm, and an American firm also did the appraisal of
the site.[82]
It would seem as though Americans have been involved with the Foro Mussolini
since the Liberation of Rome in 1944 when they took it over and they remain
involved in it today. Lonely Planet's guide to Rome for 2012 lists the Foro
Italico and the Stadio dei Marmi as one of the attractions in the Villa
Borghese and Northeast parts of Rome.[83] While the Foro Italico is
not listed as one of the city's main attractions, it is listed like a
lesser-known museum would be, with a small blurb about the location and the
highlights (in this case, the Monolito and the Stadio dei Marmi). The Stadio
dei Marmi has grown in popularity as a tourist destination as its statues have
gained popularity as examples of masculine perfection. David Hinchen, owner of
the Etsy.com store davidhinchendesigns sells art photographs of the statues in
the Stadio dei Marmi and says that they are very popular images and that many
find them appealing as examples of athletic nude bodies.[84]
A good example of the American art critic's
response to the site can be found in the October 1998 issue of ARTnews Magazine
in an article called "Back to the Futurists," where the author praises the
restoration of the mosaics in the Piazzale dell'Impero.[85] He remarks that once
again, people will be able to admire the works of Futurist master and designer
Gino Severini, never mentioning that the mosaics openly declare their
allegiance to one of the most infamous dictators of the 20th
century. In fact, Turner seems to blame the Italians for allowing them to fall
into disrepair in the first place. Discourse surrounding the Foro Italico
generally falls into one of two categories. Those who, like Turner, are not
from Italy and who love the Fascist aesthetic but disconnect it from its grisly
past and those who focus only on the site's past and not on its aesthetic
value. Americans who write about it tend to fall into the former category.
Today, the disconnect between the past and the present works in the favor of
the monuments, especially the statues of the Stadio dei Marmi. As World War II
and Fascism fade into the past, and no longer loom over the present for younger
generations, the statues no longer hold the same connection to violence and
totalitarianism that they once did. For American scholars who have little
invested in the political discourse surrounding the monument, it is easy to
appreciate the stadium as a piece of art and an example of the beauty and
mystery of Rome.
Conclusion
The Stadio dei Marmi in Rome is a hidden gem,
an extremely special place that captures all of the beauty of Rome in a place
where tourists fear to tread. Visiting on a day with no soccer game or tennis
match, the site holds all the magic of Urban Exploration or Urban Spelunking,
the exploration of ruined buildings in cities. The gates are open, but only a
bit, and the visitor must decide whether or not they are allowed to explore.
There is no entrance sign to the Foro Italico, and unless you are interested in
buying merchandise for A.S. Roma, Rome's main football club, there is no gift
shop. For a visitor to Rome, the Stadio dei Marmi is a breath of fresh air in
the ancient city made even more special by its connection with contemporary
Romans. On any given day at the Stadio dei Marmi, one can see runners on the
track, skateboarders on the Piazzale dell'Impero, and people walking with their
dogs or families (fig. 49). In a city that capitalizes on tourism at any given
opportunity, the Stadio dei Marmi is free and beautiful, even on a rainy day.
As for the future of the monument, I believe
that the Foro Italico is an ancient ruin in the making. After all, most of the
great ancient Roman buildings in the city of Rome were commissioned by
emperors, not all of whom were benevolent. Mussolini wanted to style himself as
the next great Roman emperor, and the ruins of his forum will eventually
crumble like the Forum of Augustus or the Markets of Trajan. At the Foro
Italico, one can see the process of ancient history in the making, and it is an
incredibly special experience. As you sit in the Stadio dei Marmi, watching the
runners in their modern running clothes (fig. 50), watched over by Mussolini's
monuments to masculinity, it could be easy to feel the fleeting nature of
power, governments, and life. It could be easy to see only the death of one's
own culture in the near future. But I see the promise of the continuation of
life. The Stadio dei Marmi is still a living, breathing stadium. In contrast to
the Colosseum (fig. 51), the Stadio dei Marmi is still used as a part of Roman
life. Life goes on around it as the grass starts to grow through the cracks of
the mosaics. Time and memory become visible in the Foro Italico. For a place so
strange and contradictory, it is exceedingly beautiful. Instead of being a
blight on the ancient and Baroque city of Rome, the Stadio dei Marmi represents
the true beauty and essence of the Eternal City. Everything that is magnificent
in Rome is saved together in one glorious mosaic of a city. The Stadio dei
Marmi is one very special tessera in that mosaic.
Postscript
The
statues of the Stadio dei Marmi have taken on many roles since the Foro
Mussolini opened in 1932, as I explained in the body of this paper, but one of
the most intriguing recent roles it has taken on is as a representation of the
gay kitsch and Camp movements of the 1980s. The statues as representations of
the movement is discussed briefly in the exhibition catalogue for a recent
exhibition at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris called "Masculin/Masculin: L'Homme Nu dans
l'art de 1800 a nos jours," an exhibit on the male nude in art from 1800 to
today. The section on the Stadio dei Marmi in the introduction to the "Surmâle"
or superman discusses the statues as a comical representation of a hypocritical
regime that simultaneously demonized homosexuality and glorified the male form.[86]
The acceptance of the statues into the gay
kitsch culture is exemplified, according to Guy Cogeval, president of the Musée
d'Orsay and the Orangerie, by the black-and-white photographs of Patrick
Sarfati (fig. 52). These photographs show the "marble giants" using the
language of high art, the crisp photograph in black and white, and highlight
the kitsch nature of the statues
themselves. Kitsch, as described by
Clement Greenberg in his 1939 essay, "Avant-Garde and Kitsch," is the "rear guard," or the popular art for the
masses.[87] Greenberg scorns kitsch
as being for the lower classes, calls it culture for the cultureless. In the
1980s, artists like Sarfati celebrated the kitsch nature of the statues, which
borrow from the aesthetics of ancient Rome but are nevertheless "simulacra of
genuine culture," as Clement Greenberg writes in his essay.[88]
The
photos of Patrick Sarfati also bring up one of the great contradictions of
these statues. They glorify the athletic nude male figure and display it on a
massive scale, but Fascist Italy professed to be deeply anti-homosexual. The
photos of Patrick Sarfati, which show off the buttocks and other assets of the
statues in the Stadio dei Marmi wink at this aspect of Fascist culture. The
contradiction of Fascism's attitude towards homosexuality becomes even more
prominent when one realizes that Mussolini rarely enforced the laws for fear of
cutting into the money that came from sexual tourism in the 1930s.[89] As the writer Alberto
Abrasino wrote in his 1984 article about the statues, their loincloths look
more like "tightie-whities" to modern viewers.[90] The modern conception of
these statues understands them as emblems of a culture that worshipped the male
form, but not as a thing to find sexually attractive, no matter how
provocatively it is displayed. My personal favorite example of this is the
figure of Bergamo (fig. 7, 53), who has one of the prominent positions at the
front of the stadium. He has all of the equipment of a mountain climber draped
around his nude body and he stands as if on the top of a mountain, with one leg
up on a rock and his head flung back as he breathes the thin Alpine air.
Instead of gravity, he exudes sensuality. To the modern viewer, he is a marble
pin-up, a massive monument to male sexuality. As Mussolini and Italian Fascism
shrink into the distant past, the serious, scowling faces of the statues in the
Stadio dei Marmi are more likely to produce a chuckle than a reaction of fear or
awe.
This
reaction makes the statues perfect fodder for the Camp sensibility that Susan
Sontag outlines in her famous 1964 essay, "Notes on 'Camp'." According to
Sontag, for something to be Camp, it must have been made in total seriousness.[91] The statues of the Stadio
dei Marmi certainly fit the bill. There was nothing tongue-in-cheek about the
Stadio dei Marmi when it was made. As such, they have become unintentionally
hilarious as time progresses. As Sontag says, "… the process of aging or
deterioration provides the necessary detachment—or arouses a certain
sympathy," that allows something to become Camp.[92] The distance between 2014
and the Fascist past allows the nude statues to become amusing. They are the
perfect art for the Camp sensibility, and they produce true happiness in those
that view them through the lens of Camp. After all, "Camp taste is a kind of
love, a love for human nature. It relishes, rather than judges, the little
triumphs and awkward intensities of 'character'."[93]
Illustrations
Figure 1
'Il Monolito,' the Mussolini Obelisk (Photo
courtesy of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 2
Italian Olympic Headquarters (Photo by
author).
Figure 3
Mosaics in the Piazzale dell'Impero (Photo
by author).
Figure 4
"Many Enemies, Much Honor" on the Piazale
dell'Impero (Photo courtesy of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 5
The Fountain of the Sphere in the center
of the Foro Mussolini (Photo courtesy uctexas.edu).
Figure 6
Side view of the Stadio dei Marmi (Photo
by author).
Figure 7
Bergamo (Photo by author).
Figure 8
Siracusa (Photo by author).
Figure 9
Mosaic fragment depicting the invasion of
Ethiopia (Photo by author).
Figure 10
Detailed fasces mosaic (Photo by author).
Figure 11
Mussolini's M intertwined with a
geometric fasces (Photo courtesy of
A.J. Hartley)
Figure 12
Mosaic from Ostia Antica (Photo courtesy
of ostia-antica.org).
Figure 13
Airplanes in the Piazzale dell'Impero
Mosaics (Photo by author).
Figure 14
Italian troops invading Ethiopia (Photo
by author).
Figure 15
Ancient figures in the modern mosaics of
the Piazzale dell'Impero (Photo by author).
Figure 16
The Lupa in the Piazzale dell'Impero
mosaics (Photo by author).
Figure 17
The Lupa in the Capitoline Museums (Photo
by author).
Figure 18
The fasces in its simplified geometric
form (Photo by author).
Figure 19
The figure of Littoria holding a fasces (Photo by author).
Figure 20
Rome as Fascist Hercules (Photo by
author).
Figure 21
Colossal statue from the Baths of
Caracalla, Naples Archaeological Museum (Photo by author).
Figure 22
Opera Balilla, the Fascist youth group
(Photo by author).
Figure 23
Bolzano as an alpine skier (Photo by
author).
Figure 24
Aquila as an Apennine skier (Photo by
author).
Figure 25
Venice (Photo by author).
Figure 26
Pola as a diver (Photo by author).
Figure 27
The Bolzano Victory Monument (Photo
courtesy of visitsitaly.com).
Figure 28
Trieste (Photo courtesy of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 29
Fiume (Photo by author).
Figure 30
An Ancient Roman Hercules (Photo courtesy
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art).
Figure 31
Pola with a fish behind him (Photo by
author).
Figure 32
Ragusa wearing a scowl (Photo by author).
Figure 33
Ancona, the meanest of them all (Photo by
author).
Figure 34
Trento, holding his kill (Photo courtesy
of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 35
Head of Kritios Boy, a Greek Kouros (Photo courtesy of Brown.edu)
Figure 36
Detail: Trento's bird (Photo by author).
Figure 37
A young gymnast jumping over bayonets in
the Stadio dei Marmi (Photo courtesy of Borden W. Painter Jr.).
Figure 38
Pisa, an androgynous figure in the Stadio
(Photo by author).
Figure 39
Rovigo (Photo by author).
Figure 40
Catania (Photo by author).
Figure 41
Potenza (Photo by author).
Figure 42
Restored mosaics of fighters (Photo
courtesy of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 43
Restored mosaics with a Fascist
catchphrase (Photo by author).
Figure 44
Foro Mussolini as US Army Rest Center
(Photo courtesy of smugmug.com).
Figure 45
Postcard of American soldiers playing
football in Stadio dei Marmi (Photo courtesy of elba_j, seller on Ebay.de).
Figure 46
Monte Cassino after Allied bombing (Photo
courtesy of German Federal Archives).
Figure 47
The front page of Il Messaggero from
November 4, 1932 (Photo courtesy of Il Messaggero).
Figure 48
A 10 lire postage stamp of the Stadio dei
Marmi (Photo courtesy of colnect.com).
Figure 49
A family playing in the Fountain of the
Sphere (Photo courtesy of A.J. Hartley).
Figure 50
Runners in the Stadio dei Marmi (Photo by
author).
Figure 51
The Colosseum (Photo by author).
Figure 52
Géant de Marbre by Patrick Sarfati (Photo
courtesy of Musée d'Orsay).
Figure 53
Rear view of Bergamo (Photo by author).
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