“It is the most fascinating and complicated room in the Ducal Palace,” says American tourist Martin.

This tourist is commenting upon the Studiolo —the private study –of Lord Federico III da Montefeltro who, from 1444 to 1474, ruled Urbino and much of what is now the region of Marche.
The Ducal Palace became a museum– the National Gallery of Le Marche in 1912. The Studiolo to this day is a prime feature of the palace.

The American tourist Martin is looking to illustrations on the lower part of wall.

Lord Montefeltro was a landmark figure of the Renaissance and nicknamed “The Light of Italy” for his contributions to enlightened culture. He followed humanist principles as a ruler. He also employed the best copyists and editors of his era to create the most comprehensive library outside of the Vatican.

Montefeltro was an active supporter of the Arts patronizing the early education of Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, the master painter Raphael who lived in Urbino.

“It [the Studiolo] is a room which was created as the Duke’s most private room, in which he retired in order to read and study about his greatest passion–humanistic culture,” says Alessandro Marchi, the Superintendent of Art in Urbino.

The ornate wood panels located on the lower walls of the study and designed by Benedetto da Maiano’s Florence workshop include images of the armor Duke Federico wore in battle. An adjacent panel shows him dressed in a casual tunic, the clothing he wore when entering his private study.

Duke Federico’s armor and his portrait with casual dress in the Studiolo

On the uppermost walls of the Studiolo are portraits of philosophers, mathematicians, poets and Popes who were inspirational people in the life of Lord Montefeltro and in European culture: people like Dante, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Saint Ambrose, and Saint Gregory the Great. 

Of the 28 original portraits in the Studiolo, only 14 of them remain. Art historian Marchi explains, “The Barberini family [an aristocratic Roman family of the 16th century] took the paintings away that resided in the upper area of the walls, and today we only have half of them since those paintings were divided for inheritance reasons. Half [14] of those paintings were bought back by the Italian government…but the other half is in the Louvre museum in France.”

You can tell which of the oil paintings are missing because those portraits are actually sepia colored photographs of the originals.

Aside from the absence of the original paintings, the Studiolo remains much the same way Lord Montefeltro experienced it. And according to museum administrators, more than 200,000 visitors are sharing that experience each year.

CAGLI, Italy – It’s dance recital night in this small Italian mountain town, an event many American parents might think they can identify with. But the scene unfolding inside the Teatro Communale would probably surprise them.

Unlike a typical recital night in America there are no anxious mothers backstage mussing with tutus and makeup or harassing teachers. There are no relatives and friends cheering like the fans at a sporting event. And there are definitely no students racing across the auditorium yelling and squealing like the gang at a sleepover. 

Two young ballerinas in white tutus watch patiently from backstage as the older dancers stretch and warm up for Sleeping Beauty, waiting for their moment to shine.

Instead, the dancers from the school Movimento E Fantasia  - Movement and Fantasy – display a professional attitude, which is reflected by the respectful attention of the  audience. And this program is one complete story  – “The Mirror of the Vampire” – demonstrating the technique dancers learned over the past school year, rather than a series of different numbers as seen at most American recitals.

The entire evening, in fact,  leaves the message: This isn’t play, it’s a real performance.

Benilde Martini, the founder of Movimento E Fantasia, made it clear that was no accident. “The arts are the breath of fresh air,” she said. “You breathe and sleep them.”

Like painting and opera, dance has long been an important part of Italian culture, from Renaissance to modern times.  And young Italian girls, like their counterparts in the U.S., often dream of gliding gracefully across stages before adoring audiences. 

But the differences between the approaches to dance by local schools in the two countries is striking.

American dance classes often are seen as hobbies for energetic young children, a place to get some weekend recreation –  and seldom attended by boys.  American dance students typically loose interest as they age. While almost 43 percent American children are dancers at one point in their lives, only 21 percent continue their dance education, according to a report by the National Dance Education organization.

Pointe dancers put a great amount of stress on their feet, sometimes going through a pair of pointe shoes every few weeks during training seasons before big performances.

Italian dance schools take more serious approach. Beginning with the youngest students dancers are allowed to move to higher levels only after being graded on their performance. Because of that,  dance classes even for the young are not restricted to weekends; students often take daily classes to improve their technique. And in Italy men are encouraged to study dance. 

By the time dancers reach high school, they have experienced several genres and have the option to study at a dance school rather than a typical college prep campus. 

The first act of Sleeping Beauty features senior –level dancers as they are en pointe, raised towards the audience, welcoming the birth of Princess Aurora, as the King and Queen applaud their performance.

Cagli native Valentina Pagliarini, 17,  a Movimento student since childhood, has had a typical Italian dance experience: Dance has always come first, which meant missing many activities enjoyed by her high school classmates.

“We have lessons every day, sometimes even Sundays, and you have to have a lot of sacrifices,” she said. “But you do it because when you have passion and that’s all you need.”

Younger student Greta Cagnoli,  agreed.

“I like dancing because it makes me have emotion and feeling,” she said. “I want to become a professional dancer,” Cagnoli said.

The audience could feel the emotion as the dancers crossed the stage. An audible gasp from the box seats in the Teatro Communale could be heard when they executed a graceful move or energetic leap.

The applause that followed was enthusiastic, but polite – professional, just like the entire recital evening.

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CAGLI, Italy - On the Sunday morning celebrating Corpus Domini the procession that flowed from the Catholic found the streets in this historic Roman town  awash in a sea of colorful flowers and herbs painting in precise detail  countless religious scenes. The artwork stretched the entire length of the marchers route circling the outer wall of the city, then back to the main piazza.

Yet just three hours earlier, the same streets were bare, grey cobblestones.

Sisters work on a yellow sun using the flower genestra. The people of Cagli use a variety of flowers and herbs to create colorful mosaics.

The quick transformation  wasn’t unusual. It’s just another a sign of the community commitment to tradition – civic or religious – in Italian towns that involves citizens of all walks of life, and beliefs.

Gardener Bruno Dilmedico is one example. He does his part by gathering wild flowers for neighbors who fashion the artwork. Two days before the procession, he was climbing the side of Monte Bambino, located about 10 minutes outside of the center of Cagli (pronounced Kal – yee), to pick an herb called sterpolle used for the procession art.

A long-stemmed green plant with oval leaves that come to a point, sterpolle grows on steep mountainsides filled with slippery rocks. It’s a habitat also preferred by local snakes, which adds a spice of danger to the job.

But it was clear that was not Dilmedico’s first try. He arrived dressed in thick olive green pants, hiking boots, a tan long-sleeved shirt and a matching vest. His dark hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and his face was tanned a deep  mahogany from a life sent under the sun.

Armed with a hooked metal blade called a falcetto, Dilmedico started up the slippery path, continuously stomping the ground to scare away snakes. He said the falcetto  is the ideal tool for this work because the plant is able to grow back stronger after it is cut down. Bruno said, “the roots of the herbs are deep in the ground and many people just cut the most superficial part. So you keep the roots safe, but [you are able to] cut the flowers so it comes back next year. 

A priest is carrying a cross down the flowered streets of Cagli. Behind him are scouts. The scouts come early to help decorate the streets in honor of the procession.

Sterpolle, also called santoreggia, is in the oregano family and common in southern Europe. It is often used because of its fragrant aroma. 

Ginestra is another common flower used to shower the streets for Corpus Domini. Its bright yellow color stands out against the green of the sterpolle and gray of the streets. Roses, wildflowers, and died woodchips are also used to bring the streets alive.

The plants are usually picked a day or two before the precession, stored in a cool place and often soaked in water. “The herbs need to get wet because it can be really windy and they could fly away,” Dilmedico explained, speaking through an interpreter.

When he finished cutting, Dilmedico took his haul to Cagli residents Rosanna Pecorelli and Paola Passetti, who live off the main piazza in a row of light brown concrete buildings, their wooden door framed by stone blocks. Three hours before the procession started, they were on their street joining neighbors creating the flower art. They begin by drawing chalk outlines of their chosen designs, then use the colorful, fragrant flowers petals and herbs are used to fill in the images. 

Passetti, in black capris and a flowing white scoop neck shirt, said they change the design every year, depending on what’s on their mind at the moment. According to her, the festival is “a family tradition.” This year they placed a design of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 

On either side of the two women, the streets were coming alive with mosaics painted on the ground. The Scout troop of Cagli used wild flowers and died woodchips of bright greens, yellows, reds, browns, and purples to  create the scripture line   from Christ, “Io sono la vera vite”  – I am the true vine.

But many images appeared to have no religious significance, but were simply beautiful designs. 

By the time the church doors open for the procession, the streets of Cagli have quickly been transformed for Corpus Domini, just as they have been for generations.

Even if the residents laying out a carpet of flowers aren’t religious, it doesn’t matter because Corpus Domini is a time to celebrate with everyone.

Dilmedico leaned back on the side of a concrete building and watched the line of people passed through the street over the artwork. through the streets. He said he didn’t feel the need to join the trail of worshippers behind the priests.

“It’s a tradition for each person, “ he said, “even if religious feeling is not there.”

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Standing outside the cold metal gates, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not supposed to be here. The street is abandoned, and the quiet is thick. My only company is the Madonna portrait framed on the opposite wall, but she offers no comfort. Peering through impenetrable metal bars, my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room on the other side. The dust in what meager sunlight is allowed here is immediately visible; but then a skeleton mounted in a black frame, and then Christ on the cross, seemingly massive in the shadows. Squinting, I eventually make out that the space before me is church-like and small, but full of emptiness. I take a step back, conceding defeat; today the answers elude me. What is in the Oratory of Death?

Over the course of the next few days, I sat in the alley where the oratory is located and waited and watched. Few passersby entered the alley, and even fewer seemed to take notice of the Oratory. One man stopped to take a few pictures; I asked if he knew anything about the Oratory. He replied, “I think this is where they brought the sick” before shrugging and walking away. It seems as though few people pay attention to or are even aware of the history of the Oratorio della Morte.

After enduring mostly futile Internet scavenging and the puzzled looks of tourists and Urbinati alike, a loose grasp on the historical context of the Oratory began to take shape. The confraternity of the Oratorio della Morte was founded in 1578 and, like all Catholic confraternities, was established to perform specific social services. This brotherhood carried out the task of transporting the dead from their homes to the church, hence the name Oratory of Death. The confraternity also provided housing for widowed women so that they would not fall into poverty or prostitution. In many ways, confraternities like this one were predecessors to the social programs implemented by modern governments. Today, the confraternity continues to offer shelter to those in need.

Luigi Bravi, director of the Oratory, lightens up when discussing the future of this institution, founded in 1578 to help citizens of Urbino with funerals and to care for widows.

These initial searches, however, all seemed to converge on one name: Luigi Bravi. Bravi is an apparent expert on the mysterious building, which is tucked away down a series of sidestreets that lead to, of course, a dead end. Bravi is perhaps the only known expert on the Oratorio. If there is anyone that can help me get inside, it’s him.One week later, after a series of e-mail correspondence, I meet with Bravi in a returning trip to the locked doors of the Oratorio della Morte. Entering through a more modest doorway in the same lonely alley, I follow Bravi to what seems to be a meeting room adjacent to the actual Oratory. The walls are adorned with paintings and photos that give a glimpse into the past and present of the confraternity. The names of current members are enumerated in a bronze placard, and a door marked “Archivo” stands on the far wall. The room is breezy and bright, but upon closer inspection, reveals an assortment of engraved skulls and crossbones—the symbol of the Oratory. Closer than ever, an anxiety that somehow my goal of entrance to the Oratory itself will slip away begins to creep.

Bravi sits across the table; a large set of keys placed next to his iPhone. His hair is greying but he still appears young. He responds to my questions directly and with a definite tone of authority and his answers are multifaceted, sometimes overwhelmingly informed. Simple inquiries are greeted with detailed histories, but the proximity of the Oratory continues to cast a shadow over the room.

“Fraternities are perceived as something of the past” explains Bravi, who is in fact the current director of the Oratorio della Morte, “and they are really something of the past.” The public’s lack of information is a result of several contributing factors. First, the Oratories no longer hold the kind of influence they once did. Hospitals and government institutions have obviously taken on the responsibilities of caring for the dying. Second, this Oratory fell silent for some years, still in existence but not visually active. In 2008 the brotherhood returned as a more culturally informative manifestation, performing ceremonies several times a year and offering education to those curious of the confraternity’s history. And thirdly, there is a misconception that an air of secrecy surrounds the Oratorio della Morte, which Bravi made sure to dismiss. Such ideas likely have arisen from the robes and covered faces worn by some confraternities during rituals; but it has also resulted more simply from a lack of information.

A skeleton is juxtaposed with Barocci’s crucifixion of Jesus Christ; symbols of both death and life.

Bravi, when discussing the philosophy of the Oratorio della Morte, also made clear the distinction between ancient and modern concepts of death. After displaying a centuries old document containing the image of a thorn riddled skeleton, Bravi comments that in the past death was “something black.” However, citing the empty cross as the quintessential example, Bravi explained that the Oratory actually has developed a somewhat optimistic view of death, describing it as “full of hope.” In another painting, death, portrayed as a bony corpse, lies chained to the base of a cross, remnants of a broken scythe scattered around. “It is an opening of new doors to new life,” remarks Luigi. “Death was dead.” This idea went against my original impressions of the Oratory as being morbid or bleak. In fact, despite it’s name, the Oratorio della Morte actually has more to do with life than death.

An admittedly strategic question concerning the artwork housed in the Oratorio dell Morte finally prompts Bravi to suggest we go inside and see for ourselves. We walk down the hallway and Bravi flicks some switches before sticking an appropriately archaic, black iron key into a side entrance door. He turns the key, the door clicks resonantly, and we step inside the twilit sanctuary.

Straight ahead, rows of ornate benches colored a soft blue. The walls stretched surprisingly skyward; the whole room seemed bigger than the outside suggested. To the left, the gold framing of Federico Barocci’s massive crucifixion piece looms overhead. An organ is visible in the balcony on the opposite wall, its metal pipes arranged like a rigid set of grey teeth. The room is cool and dark, with most light pouring in from a high window. As we begin to speak again, our voices collide with the expansive walls and decorated brick flooring and echo back to us ghostlike and distant. A depiction of a skeleton with both male and female features clings to one wall. “Because death is for everyone,” Bravi says with a smile.

It is thrilling to step into a space that often is untouched, but the room maintains a certain kind of humanity. It is not difficult to imagine past incarnations of the brotherhood sitting on the wooden benches, discussing business and everyday matters. In the balcony, Luigi shares that the confraternity loves music, and that the hall is filled with voices and organ chords when meetings are in session. For a place associated with death, the Oratorio della Morte emits an unexpected sense of liveliness.

This same spirit is reflected in the archive room, which Bravi unlocks with his assortment of keys. Here, he reveals books and documents containing the business affairs and history of the confraternity that date back to the 16th century. They appear carefully preserved and maintained. ““We have to understand what we were,” Bravi would later comment. It is a somewhat bizarre feeling one experiences when absorbing the craftwork of hands that existed 500 years ago. Our time here and how we will be remembered are put into a very real context. The documents are dated up to the present day, which goes to show that the legacy of the Oratorio della Morte is still alive and taking shape.

A high window provides what little light is present in the Oratory.

Towards the end of our interview, I ask Bravi about one last painting, this one a portrait of Saint Francis. He shares that just recently a new discovery regarding the origins of the painting had been made, a discovery that he politely declined to indulge me with, as it has yet to be published. This was not too disappointing, as it was satisfying enough to know that there is still much to learn about the past of Urbino, especially the past of the Oratories.

“Whenever you begin to read documents, you will find something new every time—in the old,” Bravi explains, emphasizing the importance of historical research and interest. And Bravi seems optimistic about the future, joking that he does not believe the Oratorio della Morte will die anytime soon. Bravi’s motivation as director to further the heritage of this institution is, put simply, the feeling that it would be “immoral” to let the Oratory fade away, especially when there is still so much to learn. “The history of this institution is not yet finished,” Bravi concludes. And I have to believe him, for as I have seen from inside the Oratorio della Morte, in death, there is new life.

This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Arte e Cultura section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

Six years ago as the work day was coming to an end, Debora Uguccioni found herself alone at a factory in Fano that made upholstery for boats. As all the other lights went off, the single lamp around her work space stayed lit. After years of working behind a desk designing furnishings, she had decided to get her hands dirty.

A box of leftover leather was left with her that night and, with permission from her manager, she rummaged through it. She gathered outlines, sketches, and tools for working these bits of material. In a little over an hour, Uguccioni’s manicured hands had created a leather handbag from the random pieces. She lit her own light that night, an idea for turning scraps into fashion items, and it guided her into a new creative career as unique as the one-of-a-kind bags that have become her trademark.

Uguccioni is now creator and designer of a company called La Collezione di Pressede, “Collection of Pressede.” Pressede being her great grandmother’s name and originating from Prussia. Prussia being a German kingdom that was dissolved in 1947 after the monarchies were abolished and the nobility lost its political power. According to Uguccioni, Pressede is not easy to remember but it’s also unlike any other name. She prefers to use the name because it is a part of her family and holds a special place in her heart.

Uguccioni gathers excess leather scraps from several types of manufacturers. She started off buying leather from the home furnishings factory she was working for. After working behind the desk with one of these factories, she soon had a change of heart and decided it was her time to start working with the one item she was in love with since the age of five, leather.

As a young girl, Guccioni had met someone down the street of her town who worked with leather. She received a sensation that she couldn’t receive from anything else, one that was enjoyable and memorable. It was the vintage smell that lingered, the soft material that was warm within her hands, and the smooth surface she was able to brush against her cheeks that she fell in love with. Uguccioni was more fascinated with leather than a kid in a gelato store.

She likes the worn, beat-up look of the scraps left over from shoe manufacturing and other processes.

As she soon realized that her bare hands were capable of more than she expected, she went on to create more of these handbags by the day. Rearranging her priorities, she jumped into the pool of becoming an entrepreneur and soon made her company her number one priority. Managing both jobs as an interior designer and creator/designer of her company, she worked harder and harder to create these bags. With creating a business comes making business. She soon started to purchase leather scraps that were left over from multiple companies. The leather was considered no good anymore since it was torn, beaten, scratched, or folded. To Uguccioni, the scraps were special, torn in ways the hand couldn’t create. It was beaten down to the faded black you can only get after so many bends and scratches, engraved in textures that weren’t used by stamps, and folded to cuts that were not your typical circle and square combinations. Uguccioni had a mission; to give a new life to one that was considered wasted.

She can make a bag in an hour or two, sometimes less. Uguccioni decides which drive she wants to make to gather her leather from companies who have a wide variety of leftover scraps. Once the decision is made, she makes her drive out, a drive that sometimes is about four hours long to Florence, or farther to another big city. She only chooses what she finds to be useful to her idea for the bag and or she decides what patterns and colors she needs for the rest of the season. There are only so many times the champagne rattlesnake pattern will come out. Once she finds exactly what she envisioned, she begins.

She stands up and makes her way to the other side of a file cabinet that divides her workspace from her small kitchen, which contains a coffee machine, a toaster, and groceries. She sighs with relief, turns the corner, and in less than a minute returns with a cup of coffee. “It’s the life I live.” says Uguccioni. With a smile from ear to ear, she adds, “This is my second home, I spend more than half of my day here.” Uguccioni sets down the finished cup of coffee and trades it in for a small hole punch that was to create holes for the weave in her new idea. As she organizes her working desk, she reaches over her back to grab scraps of leather off the shelf of scattered material and utensils. The bag she is creating is from a picture of a lily pad she cut out of a magazine.

Designer Uguccioni makes straps to finish off a hand-bag inspired by the shape of a lily pad, a new product for her.

Her ideas fly by her from left and right, whether it’s a picture within a magazine, a bush in her garden, or a dress of a woman walking past her in the piazza of Fano. She starts off with a graph, a graph that has been taped with multiple sizes of squares, rhombuses, rectangles, trapezoids, and even hexagons. Once she lays out her leather onto the bag, she cuts her needed pieces and stores away the pieces she won’t use for another creative bag soon to come. Once the pieces are cut, they are taken to the seamstress for pressing and cleaning; she then finds the cut for her soon-to-be bag. Once the leather returns to the creative hands of Uguccioni, she examines it for final touches: stitching, loose strings, or unpressed sections.

Two half circles of green are laid out on the table alongside multiple straps. The assembling of the bag begins as she reaches to the right of her for the hole puncher. Uguccioni grabs a wooden block and lays it underneath the leather material. The hole puncher makes it way from the top to bottom of the half circle pieces. She finishes with the last hole and turns over her shoulder once again to pull out two pieces of a milk chocolate brown leather strap. After untangling the two pieces from the rest of the bundle tied onto the rest of the shelf, she turns to face the half circles. So she begins to weave in the straps into the holes making it look as if it was as easy as preparing your shoe laces on a new pair of shoes. Half way through the process of weaving the two pieces together, she smiles and changes her mind. Her creativity is exposed through her smile as she unties each piece just to weave it back into place with a different twist.

Uguccioni continues to weave together the lily pad-inspired pieces. In less than twenty minutes, she’s done.

Smiling at her product, Uguccioni touches it up by adjusting the straps. She slides the bright green bag onto her shoulders to model it, she smiles and gently looks over her shoulder to examine the bag. Another proud accomplishment recognized by the creator herself. Uguccioni takes the bag off, scrambles through the web of yarn, which is tied onto her working shelf, and picks out a piece of fuchsia yarn. She winds the fuchsia strap around the straps of the bag to make them two inches smaller in width. Once the knot is tied, a sigh of happiness and relief is let loose and within an hour, her lily pad bag is complete.

“You will never find the same model or design,” says Uguccioni about her products.  She gives each bag a serial number and records it with a picture of the bag in her four-inch binder of finished products. The bags she creates will never look the same because of the different patches of leather she uses. She enforces the idea that each bag should have its own style and own patchwork and due to the fact that she is limited to pieces of leather that are no longer being used, some patches she purchases are bigger than others.

The lily-pad hand-bag comes together quickly.

Creative, unique, and special; each bag holds a special place in Uguccioni’s heart. Her husband suggests that she make simpler and smaller bags, but she loves the idea of a big creative bag. It’s more noticeable, she says, and you can fit more inside. Ladies, you understand.

Uguccioni has multiple businesses that help sell her one-of-a kind bags, including Donati Shoes, located in Fano’ s piazza, which sells her bags alongside the work of other designers.

In hopes that she could share her creativity with more of the world in different states and even countries, Uguccioni created about 700 bags her first year, only selling 500. Now, six years later, she sells roughly 1,000 bags a year.

With the hard work and dedication seen in her eyes and smile, her still well-manicured hands continue to create something new every day. As she dusts away the minuscule pieces of string and holes from the punch into the trash can, she gently stores away the rest of the leather. With her sense of creativity, she will easily turn the smaller pieces into a floral decoration that can be tied onto just about anything. She gently lays the bigger pieces of leather on a table in the corner of her studio where the rest of the leather is organized by color. Whether it is as tiny as the size of her fist or a yard left to make a new wallet, no leather is to be wasted. To this day, she considers her company as a great achievement. Uguccioni doesn’t want to ever change it because of the people who appreciate her art work. Where there is a light, there is a way.

This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Arte e Cultura section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

The editors of Urbino Now thank the folks at Living in Le Marche for bringing Debora Uguccioni’s work to our attention.

All Luca Pala could see was white snow swirling in the wind and sleet falling from a gray and gloomy sky. He touched his windowsill and knew immediately that the temperature outside was below freezing. His stomach churned as he watched the snowfall accumulate on his farm with every passing minute.

Icy pellets slammed against the tin roof of the nearby barn as agitated sheep and squealing pigs lay on the hay-covered ground. Suddenly the roof caved in, triggering an uproar that could be heard from miles away.

Pala rounded up a herd of shivering, frost-bitten cows with raw hooves. Barely able to see in the whiteout, he led them for an hour, single-file down the road through deep snow to the shelter of a neighbor’s stable. Before the snow and ice were through, more roofs on Pala’s farm collapsed, some of his livestock perished, water pipes burst, and he lost electricity.

“Logical reasoning would have made me entirely shut down my farm,” says Pala, looking back at the severe storm that struck much of Italy and parts of Europe in early 2012. But despite all the damage, which put production on pause for two months and has kept him operating at a slower pace ever since, Pala remains a well-respected and popular maker of organic cheese in the Le Marche region.

Sitting on more than 270 acres of picturesque green pastures, hills, and valleys in Tavoleto, Pala’s farm focuses on all aspects of organic farming. It has done so ever since his parents Sebastian Alterpiece and Sebastiana Sistu, moved here from Sardinia to start a business selling cheeses and meats. Luca and his two brothers, Marco and Giuseppe, grew up working the farm. In 2003, Luca decided to to continue his family’s legacy when his parents retired. He took over the farm, guiding it in what he considered to be the right direction by maintaining his parents’ organic philosophy.

Luca Pala holds his cheese that is held in the cheese storage room at 30 degrees Fahrenheit. The cheese matures in this room for 20 days before its available for consumption.

Azienda Agricola Paletta, the official name of Pala’s farm, specializes in organic pecorino cheese made from sheep’s milk. Paletta also makes other varieties of pecorino as well as seasoned cheese and ricotta. His cheese is sold in locations throughout the region, including in San Marino, Rimini, Pesaro, and Urbino.

Every day before the sun rises over the nearby Tavoleto mountains, the alarm clock blares in Pala’s ear. He jolts out of bed, eager to start his workday, a chaotic frenzy of caring for his 250 sheep and 20 cows as well as managing the business side of his farm. What keeps him going is his dedication to the belief that natural methods are good for his animals, his farm, and his customers. Following regulations set forth by the Association for Organic Agriculture and the European Union, Pala’s farm uses its own naturally grown resources to make all its organic products.

“Buying organic food is a guarantee for one’s own health, and it helps nature,” says Pala.

Pala’s prized pecorino starts with raw milk from sheep raised in excellent living conditions and fed strictly organic hay. The milk is heated to 37 degrees Celsius, rests at this temperature for 10 to 15 minutes, and is then transferred to a large silver machine where it conglomerates. After steel wire blades cut the thickened milk into pieces, the cheese is molded into a wheel-like shape for two hours. The cheese is placed in a cold room—the temperature is a mere 20 degrees—where salt is applied after 24 hours. Finally, it remains in the cold room to mature for 20 days.

Pala unbolts a steel gray door leading to his cold room. In the dim light, several metal carts hold hundreds of pale white-and-yellow wheels of pecorino. The cheese looks thick and creamy. In a few weeks, he explains, it will be ready for delivery.

A mother and father lick their 2-week old puppy that will one day become a sheepherder like his parents. This breed is called Maremma Sheepdog.

One destination for Pala’s products is Degusteria Raffello, a specialty food shop that sits near the base of one of Urbino’s steepest climbs, at the corner Via Raffaello and Via Bramante. The store’s doors are often wide open, inviting customers to check out their assortments of pasta, wine, olive oil, and especially cheese.

Store owner Alberto Crinella slices a sample of Pala’s organic pecorino cheese into pieces on his dark brown cutting board with a sharp knife. He instructs the customers to break their pieces into fragments with their fingers in order to release and smell the rich aroma. Then a taste: a rich, milky flavor that lingers in the mouth for minutes.

“Luca Pala was one of the first producers that we contacted when we opened our shop seven years ago,” says Crinella, who describes Pala as a dedicated cheese maker who is serious about quality. “Since then, we have never stopped selling his products.”

Pala’s products are also in demand at Urbino’s Galleria AE, a shop that Pala established with a few of his colleagues. Workers there say they often run out of his popular organic pecorino.

On a recent June afternoon, Luca Pala gazes out over his farm and talks about his plans to continue recovering from the snowstorm of 2012. He hopes soon to increase his cheese production beyond the still-reduced frequency of two times per week. He would like to pay off his loans from the bank. He is looking into establishing a purchasing group, a network of loyal customers who would set up long-term agreements to buy his products.

“This project would allow people, maybe even our own customers, to invest in our farm,” Pala says.

He says he continues to face many challenges, including restrictive rules imposed by Italy and the European Union, the unpredictability of Nature, and a farmer’s built-in risks from being “right under the sky.”

But on this warm day under clear, precipitation-free skies, Luca Pala puts on a smiling face and says he will continue to work at the thing he loves.

This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Mangia Bene section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

URBINO, Italy – On the night of October 19, 1943, as German soldiers entered the historic Palazzo dei Principi in Carpegna, a clandestine operation hung in the balance: hiding thousands of masterpieces from theft or destruction by the Nazis. The man behind the operation, art historian Pasquale Rotondi, reflected on that night in his memoir. “[The Germans] did a search in this building; the guardians, who protected this hiding place, tried to keep the soldiers from searching the rooms, where they had taken the works of art, but [many guards] were disarmed, beaten, and carried away.” The remaining guards were able to convince the soldiers that there was nothing of value to be found.  The Germans left without a single masterpiece in hand.

This is just one of many close calls in the treacherous and eventually historic journey of Pasquale Rotondi. He was 31-years-old when the Italian Minister of Education commissioned him to carry out a task of great cultural significance: to hide and to preserve some of the Italy’s most prestigious artworks. As the Superintendent of the Artistic and Historic Heritage in Urbino, Rotondi was a prime candidate for the job. “The more you lay it to heart, given the importance of things, the more you can understand my concern for [the artworks’] conservation,” he wrote in his diary.

A poster showing Pasquale Rotondi and his assistant, Augusto Pritelli, with the automobile they used to shuttle thousands of artworks. This poster was featured during the European Heritage Days in 2005 at the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana in Venice.

In the spring of 1940 Rotondi embarked upon what would become a five-year journey, hiding more than 10,000 masterpieces within fortresses located in Italian cities in the region of Marche, including Urbino and Sassocorvaro. He chose Sassocorvaro because it was located away from the war zone and had an area of fortified security — the Rock of Sassocorvaro.

The Rock of Sassocorvaro is a large walled structure overlooking a lake valley. The locals call it the “fortress of works of art,” where extraordinary masterpieces are housed to this day. It also contains a theater that served a higher purpose for Rotondi. Under the boards of the main stage, about 2,000 pieces of art were furtively stored.

The exclusive theater within the Rock of Sassocorvaro. Rotondi hid many pieces of art under the boards of this stage.

In an attempt to stay a step ahead of the German soldiers, Rotondi carefully monitored which cities had already been occupied and which ones were less likely to be searched or destroyed, including the city of Urbino. “I wanted to create in Urbino some safe hiding places where…I could take the most important works of art,” Rotondi wrote. The Palazzo Ducale became the temporary hiding place, with about 6,000 pieces stored in the cellars of the massive structure.

A view of the underground cellar in the Pulazzo Ducale. This area provided an abundant amount of space for Rotondi to store artwork.

During the course of World War II, superintendents from museums in Venice, Milan and Rome entrusted Rotondi to transfer to safekeeping their most valuable collections including masterpieces by Caravaggio, Tintoretto, Giorgione, Botticelli, Leonardo and Titian. One famous work, “The Tempest” by Giorgione, was kept, for a time, wrapped under Rotondi’s bed in his personal residence.  All-in-all Rotondi meticulously and courageously saved 4,000 books, manuscripts, archives, and original music scores, as well as approximately 6,000 paintings, sculptures, tapestries, religious furnishings, and ceramics.

“The Tempest” by Giorgione (1506-1508.) The painting was originally commissioned by Venetian nobility and is now exhibited in the Gallerie dell’Accademia. Source: Diana Ziliotto

On September 8, 1943, the Italian government drew up an armistice agreement with the Allies, thereby joining the movement to force the Germans out of Italy. After the War ended, Rotondi’s entrusted artworks were returned to their original museums in Italy, includingGallerie Dell’Academia in Venice.

At the completion of the operation, Rotondi moved back to Urbino, resuming his work as Superintendent of the Artistic and Historic Heritage. In 1949 he became the Superintendent of Fine Art in Genoa, and 11-years later the director of the Central Institute of Restoration in Rome. After his retirement in 1973, the Vatican chose him as a consultant for the restoration of the Sistine Chapel.

Rotondi’s wartime mission went largely unpublicized until 1984, when the mayor of Sassocorvaro bestowed upon him an award for his work. In 1986, the City of Urbino named him an “honorary citizen,” praising his achievements in teaching and maintaining the cultural heritage of the city.

Sara Ugoloni, a tourism official for the city of Sassorcorvaro, says tourists from all over Italy visit the town’s fortress just to see one of the sites where Rotondi made history. “Local schools teach the story of Pasquale Rotondi, and many universities are interested in the story [as well,]” says Ugoloni.

After Rotondi’s death in 1991, at the age of 81, his achievements increased in recognition:

• 1997: Premio Rotondi ai Salvatori dell’Arte (Rotondi Award for Art Preservationists) was created and is awarded annually to a person who has saved art from destruction

• 1999: Salvatore Giannella published “The Ark of Art”including excerpts from Rotondi’s memoirs, and “Operation Rescue”in 2001

• 2005: Italian President Carlo Ciampi presented Rotondi’s eldest daughter with a medal honoring her father’s devotion to cultural preservation

• 2005: Documentary film “The List of Pasquale” Rotondi was released

Author Giannella concludes: “the book[s], the film, and the award constituted the stone thrown into the pond of public opinion internationally, even in Hollywood.”

Bold acts of World War II art preservation are popularized in the Hollywood film “The Monuments Men”and in the documentary “The Rape of Europa”, but Rotondi’s story is not a part of these productions.

Giannella says, “unfortunately, Rotondi was given very little immediate reward for his feat.” But Rotondi himself was not seeking financial reward for his 5-year mission. The reward, he says, was in preserving the art itself and its culture: “I’m just doing my duty as guardian of the integrity of works of art entrusted to me.”

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Even the air of the hotel dining room seemed light and bright. Ropes of multi-colored flags lined the walls, and vibrantly hued balloons bounced around. “Benvenuto amici,” Alessandro Bedini said to each group that entered, adding a hug or a warm handshake.

Glass pitchers brimming with Marche wine beckoned from the tables. Whiffs of freshly baked bread lured guests into filling the vacant chairs.

When the guests were seated, the antipasto was served. Thoughtfully composed, each plate held a small mound of lightly dressed spinach topped with chopped nuts and a petite portion of marinated liver.

“Fegato è molto importante”—liver is very important—announced Daniela Storoni, Bedini’s wife and mastermind of the menu. She explained that the chemical composition of “good-mood” foods triggers the production of neurotransmitters that control thoughts, emotions, and mood. Liver contains vitamin B-12, which is scientifically linked to strong mental health.

Before long, the room became filled with sounds of joy. Grandmothers jumped up to belt out the “Tarantella,” a fast-paced folk song. Young and old shook their hips to the beat of the music.

As Alessandro Bedini, director of the Academy of Laughter, watches, two participants enjoy a game of pop-the-balloon during the “Dinner of Cheerfulness.”

For Bedini, this was more than just a boisterous dinner party. It was therapy in action, a “Dinner of Cheerfulness,” held at Urbino’s Hotel La Meridiana and designed to relieve stress and lighten the spirit. Bedini is the head of the Accademia Della Risata—the Academy of Laughter—founded in 2006.

The Academy is a non-profit association dedicated to enlightening Marche citizens about the benefits that laughter, good humor, and positivism have for physical and psychic well-being. Throughout the year, the Academy holds a variety of workshops for hospital patients, nurses, students, teachers, and corporation personnel.

Studies have shown that laughter—whether real or fake—can heal the body and spirit. As a psychologist for Urbino’s Health One Hospital, Bedini teaches that happiness can be found everywhere if you just “reach into your pocket and pull out a smile.”

Bedini’s cheerful office is an unexpected relief from the gloomy and windowless hallways of the rest of the hospital. Colorful abstract artworks cover the walls of his narrow office. A collection of multi-colored books about famous artists such as Picasso and Raphael stand alphabetically on the top shelf of a tall bookcase.

Bedini reaches over and points to a book, Anatomy of an Illness, lying on a shelf of his crammed bookcase. In this 1979 memoir, journalist Norman Cousins described his battle with a serious and painful skeletal disease. Cousins, also referred to as the modern father of laughter therapy, “made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give [him] at least two hours of pain-free sleep.” Cousins’ attributed his recovery to doses of self-prescribed laughter therapy.

Bedini works to spread cheer in his office through colorful artworks.

Inspired by Cousins’ memoir, Bedini began developing programs devoted to spreading laughter throughout the Marche region. A few years ago, he created the program “A Smile in the Ward,” dedicated to promoting individual wellness for both the employees and patients of the Heath One Hospital.

Bedini has worked closely with Patch Adams, America’s best-known laugher therapist to divide “A Smile in the Ward” into three program areas. Adams writes on the Gesundheit Institute website that “the well-being of the staff is as important as the well-being of the patients.”

The first area is “A Smile in the Ward: Soul Tour.” Working inside the hospital walls, this program incorporates the techniques of comicoterapia—the use of laughter, jokes, music, and comedy—to spread cheer to hospitalized patients. Bedini tells his patients “your problem is not a mountain, and it can be overcome.”

The second area concerns “Training of Health Personnel,” which works to strengthen the bond between nurses and their patients by communicating positivity and encouragement.

The third area, “Wellness Project,” is designed to improve working conditions while raising awareness of methods for reducing stress. In coordination with the University of Urbino, Bedini provides psychology students with hands-on experience within all three areas of the “Smile in the Ward” program.

Once Bedini recognized the healing value of these techniques, he expanded his programs to include schools and corporation. In schools of all levels, he takes children through a seminar called “The Hours of Smiles” to give students the tools to improve classroom performance, reduce stress from examinations, and increase self-esteem to help reduce bullying.

A participant learns to fly her kite against the backdrop of the Urbino hills.

With corporations, Bedini and his assistants teach employers to create humor within the workplace to better relieve stress and handle office politics.

Back at the hotel dining room, a man sporting a tuxedo jacket, red-and-black parachute pants, a floppy orange hat circled by a red-and-white polka-dot ribbon, and a red rubber nose was instructing the crowd to make kites. This man was Sirto Sorini, 81, and better known as Clown Geppo.

First, Geppo enlightened the crowd with a brief history of kiting. “Kites are symbols of joy and the desire to smile,” he said. Making them from recycled material, he said, sparks the imagination and creativity. Then he pulled out a cardboard box overflowing with colorful sheets of plastic, and, on cue, everyone rose to their feet eager to get started. These kites, Geppo told the crowd, are the same kites given to patients during the “Smile in the Ward” program.

At the beginning of the evening, everyone’s laughs had seemed staged and insincere. But since then, they had flown kites, sung karaoke, danced, and popped balloons that they had stuffed inside their shirts. Now the laughter was clearly genuine.

This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Urbino Focus section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

URBINO, Italy - Five University of Urbino students have taken their computer coding skills out of the classroom and into the world of mobile gaming. The objective of the game, “Holy Sheep”, is to ease the fall of a sheep from the sky, tapping left and right to hit grass patches that slow the character down. Get stuck on a patch, hit a bad brick, or fall too quickly and it’s game over. Originally the group did not anticipate releasing the game to the public, but after deciding to do so the application, or app, gained appeal.

The web page for Dot5 allows the team to show off their work and market their game.

Alessio Marzoli, Marco Mignano, Romeo Violini, Edoardo Spadoni, and Ilaria Di Meo, who call themselves Dot5, created “Holy Sheep” in 2013, and released it in April 2014. The team is now working toward a future in mobile application development and is already beginning the code and design of their next mobile game. Dot5 aspires to score high in the technology world without hitting any walls or falling to the ground like the sheep in the game.

However, the group realizes its small office in nearby Fermignano will not provide enough space and resources to allow their careers to grow. The team members are facing the challenge of deciding whether to build their existing company in Fermignano, split up to work for larger Italian businesses, or move to a more technology-friendly country where they believe the demand for app developers is greater. Dot5 team member Marco Mignano explains, “in Europe, 80 percent of [tech] companies that start in Italy move to the U.K. … it’s a must.”

This desire to go abroad arises not just from the opportunities in other countries, but also from the lack of technology startups in Italy. “Italy doesn’t have a tradition in spinoffs and startups,” says Alessandro Bogliolo, coordinator of Information Science and Technology at the University of Urbino. Bogliolo cites tight regulations and a lack of venture capitalists as reasons for the scarcity of Italian startups.

These entry barriers worry Italian students like Marco, who are seeking employment after graduation. Marco and the rest of Dot5 are considering a move to other countries like the United States or the United Kingdom to begin their careers. Marco, who visited the U.S. in August of 2012, says “I saw big difference in the mentality for games in the U.S. Here in Italy it is kind of different. We are more closed. The state doesn’t help tech companies.” 

The computer lab at the University of Urbino offers a great central meeting spot for the members of Dot5.

According to a study published in the World Bank’s Doing Business Project, it costs 14.2 percent of per capita income to start a business, not just a technology startup, in Rome, Italy. Compare that to London with 0.3 percent per capita income cost, or New York City with 1.5 percent.  Additionally, an annual World Bank study gives countries an index ranking based on the ease of doing business. The ranking is based on ten business regulation topics including tax rates, property registration, licensing, and employment. The study ranks Italy as 83rd in the ease of doing business, the U.K. as sixth and the U.S. as fourth.

One Spanish technology company called Fon faced the challenge of expanding its business in Italy.  Fon allows people to create hotspots and share bandwidth with other users, creating a crowdsourced worldwide network of shared WiFi. After attempting to expand into Italy, Fon eventually gave up due to compliance issues with Italian regulations. Dr. Bogliolo uses this company to illustrate how difficult it is “to do something which is innovative and technology related” in Italy. 

Bogliolo responds to these problems by teaching his students the skills they need to stand out in this job market. Bogliolo oversees initiatives through the School of Information Sciences and Technology that help improve the computer coding abilities of Italian students. One initiative in particular, called Code’s Cool, offers webinars that bring together students, teachers, and professionals throughout Italy to share and teach computer coding. Dot5 has appeared on a Code’s Cool webcast to explain their code and to answer questions.

Marco Mignano hard at work in the computer lab at the university. Marco often spends long hours in the lab to perfect his coding skills and to finish his applications.

Dot5’s utilization of these opportunities is what led to the creation of “Holy Sheep”. “We do not directly teach how to develop a mobile game,” said Dr. Bogliolo. “They took advantage of all the experiences and technology that they acquired at the university while trying to push it in a different direction.” 

When it comes to the decision to move to the U.K. or U.S., Dr. Bogliolo believes it is valuable to spend time abroad. However, he stresses “what is very important is to provide people with the skills to find a good job abroad, not just to migrate because there are no jobs in Italy. If you go abroad to find exactly the job you like, this is something which is an opportunity.”

While the opportunities to study abroad during school may be beneficial, Dr. Bogliolo feels students do not necessarily need to leave Italy to find a job or create a successful startup after they graduate. Bogliolo states “We are pretty satisfied with the job opportunities which are offered to our students and also the entrepreneurship they develop by themselves.” He also believes that students can become a force for innovation in a country that has fewer successful startups than the U.S. or U.K. “In countries which are less crowded with startups, you can try to make a greater difference. While in countries like the U.S., it is much harder to make a difference.” He adds: “The challenges are tough but they are worth being faced.”

One Italian startup, AppsBuilder, allows users to more effectively manage and promote their mobile applications. Since its creation in 2011 by Luigi Giglio and Daniele Pelleri of Milan, the company has received 2.5 million euro in funding from a combination of Italian venture capitals. While AppsBuilder is just one example of a successful startup in Italy, it gives hope to the members of Dot5 to continue developing apps and to work towards receiving funding from venture capitalists.

For Marco, a move to the U.S. is what he has always desired. He knows he may have some opportunity in Italy after he graduates, but he says, “USA is my dream … I saw another reality, something really different than Italy.” As for the rest of the team members of Dot5, they are uncertain what path they will take. Marco says, “My friends and I really love to make video games. We grew up with video games. This is our dream.“ It’s a dream that has yet to find a home.

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URBINO, Italy – Like workers in the U.S., when residents of this famous hilltop Renaissance head home after a long day, they are eager for a satisfying meal, and a relaxing beverage.

But you won’t find any drive-through windows here. This is a place immersed in Slow Food – a growing worldwide movement and cuisine that speaks to more than just cravings by emphasizing the use of locally produced products. 

“It sustains a more genuine approach to the territory, a sense of appreciation for the territory,” said Francesco Ovarelli, restaurant owner and Slow Food member. 

Slow Food, in fact, was founded in Bra, Italy in 1986 by Carlo Petrini. Outraged by the opening of a McDonald’s in Rome, Petrini and other activists became motivated to remind people of the traditionally slow pace of Italian life and the pride they should take in their locally produced foods.

It’s almost ready! Time to add some finishing touches.

Its motto “good, clean, and fair” seems simple, but it covers plenty of important details surrounding the use of local foods:

• A diet consisting of local products tastes better because it uses fresher goods.

• It helps the local economy by supporting area growers.

• It’s better for the environment because local production requires less energy to bring the good to users. 

• It requires members to produce products using environmentally friendly methods.

• And knowing where food comes from fosters an appreciation for local cuisine and traditions.

Let’s see what’s cooking! Angela handles preparing multiple dishes at a time in this busy kitchen.

Because the Slow Food organization considers education a key to success it hosts events such as farm tours, workshops and dinners to inform the public about healthy eating habits. And in 2001 it began an effort to educate children about the benefits of growing their own healthy foods by starting the “school gardens” programs. Of the 180 school gardens worldwide, 125 are in Italy.

Slow Food also works to promote and draw attention to local products that are close to extinction with an initiative called The Ark of Taste. In the Urbino region, for example, local chapters are striving to continue the production of “Mele rosa dei Monti Sibillini,” or rose apples. Once highly sought after, the tiny pink apples have not been able to compete with the larger apples in today’s markets and have almost disappeared from the landscape.

Another local food currently under the protection of Slow Food is “Cicerchia di Serra de’ Conti,” a grass pea specific to Le Marche. Usually gathered in bundles, this legume is typically hung in the sun to dry, then soaked in water before being cooked. It is traditionally used in soups or served as a side dish. 

Saving those foods and spreading the Slow Food ethic requires the attention not only of individuals, but also restaurants.  Francesco Ovarelli, owner of La Valle Del Vento, only recently registered his restaurant with Slow Food, but he’s been a strong supporter of local vendors since he opened 12 years ago.

 “We started with an idea to work with good products just from the area,” says Ovarelli, “It’s simple for us because we live in a beautiful area with good products and great farmers.”

Ovarelli’s philosophy includes an effort to have secure all the products within “0 kilometers” from his kitchen. That means his menu has no choice but to change with the seasons. 

 “We serve seasonal dishes and depending on the period, we change our menu,” he said, “not imitating our traditional meals, but revisiting them.”

 This summer, he says, they are using a lot of vegetables from local farmers such as eggplant, tomatoes, and asparagus, to name a few.  That showed up on a recent Saturday menu with  Spaghetti alla Chitarra con asparagi e noci, a pasta with asparagus and walnuts. And  Gnocchi di Patate con Crema di Melanzane, potato gnocchi with eggplant cream.

Slow Food might be Ovarelli’s guiding philosophy, but there is nothing slow about how his restaurant operates. There is constant chopping, stirring, mixing, and breezing in and out of the kitchen doors to deliver food to hungry customers. Everything is prepared fresh by hand with ingredients from local vendors such as Longhi Rovaldo (for fresh truffles and mushrooms), Grossi Family Salumieri (for cooked meats), and Verde Mela (for fresh fruits and vegetables each season). Over ten different vendors are listed in the back of the La Valle Del Vento menu, all from Urbino and the surrounding provinces.

Ovarelli says the extra care in keeping the Slow Food ethic helps his business, as well as local producers.

 “We work with foreigners, mostly coming from northern Europe and Italian cities as well,” says Ovarelli.

 “They are attracted by products which they can’t find ordinarily.” 

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