VI.vi. The Emperor's New Clothes

"I want to the whole of Europe to have one currency; it will make trading much easier. "
- Napoleon Bonaparte

Daniele Benati swaggered into the classroom wearing a long black riding coat. His demeanor, as well as his short and rather pudgy frame, contrived to give him an uncanny Napoleonic look which was augmented by his tendency to pace back and forth through the aisles during lecture. Reminiscent of the Emperor General too were his insistent proclamations and his air of authority. He also arrived late, which added to the overall affect, as the class of a hundred or so people, acting as an organic whole, became silent together the moment he made his appearance. Whether or not the audience was aware that Benati was a very accomplished scholar in his field, it sized him up in an instant and gave him the respect he commanded. Such is the authority of the Italian professor.
    Today my first class of the new term began, after a hiatus of nearly two months caused by the commonly accepted agreement that January ought to be braved as time off. The class took place in the Aula Magna of the Ex-Convent of Santa Cristina, a newly renovated complex, somewhat removed from the heart of the university, that is soon to form the new home of the Department of Visual Arts at the University of Bologna. Most of my classes this year will be held here, either under the gaze of a sixteenth century fresco and the SILENTIVM inscription in the main hall left over from the convent days, or one of the halls created out of the converted outbuildings. Overall, it is a beautifully renovated complex in typically Italian style. Equally typical, perhaps, are the enormous glass skylights and the lack of slide projection screens that render the place rather unsuitable for the teaching of Art History.
    Professor Benati's course on Italian medieval art is divided into two five-week modules, the first of which is a tediously general overview of basic material. The second part of the course, inversely, is what some pedagogues would term a micro-study, in which a specific theme is studied in great detail. In our case, we would be embarking on an investigation of Jacopo Avanzo, an artist so obscure his existence is questioned. As he mentioned this, I wondered if anyone else present had even heard of Avanzo. I for one was quite pleased, if a little bewildered by the arcane studies promised to us. A few weeks prior, while in Padua, I had seen the one fresco cycle that the artist is thought to have executed, and was greatly interested by it. Obscure, undiscovered, and controversial things fascinate me, and luckily, the history of art is full of them. I guessed at the time, and later confirmed, that Professor Benati's special attachment to the subject was, perhaps in addition to reasons I held, explained by the fact that he was currently writing a book on the very subject. Professors in Italy do this quite usually, in fact. As they are limited in what courses they can offer by ministerial decree, each will take advantage of the situation by molding the course to reflect personal interests as much as possible. Regardless of whether this sort of approach makes for good instruction or not, most of the courses I had frequented were nonetheless taught at a very basic level.
    It's a shame that many professors don't harness the potential of their audience, since, despite all appearances, Italian students do know a good amount about their heritage. Though their university system is perceived as notoriously lax, their secondary school system is much better at producing well-rounded, cognizant individuals. The Liceo Classico, the equivalent of an arts high school, is what most students in the humanities here have attended. Consequently, they are all inculcated with basic principles of Latin, Greek, ancient history, and art history; this is why I was surprised as professor Benati asked the class what, in a medieval painting, a figure carrying a palm represented. I rolled my eyes, thinking no one would be able to answer, as would be the case in the Anglo-Saxon world. However, a combination of catechism and liberal art education seemed to be paying off, at least for the narrow purposes of this course, because the professor was instead met with a chorus of "il martirio", Holy Martyrdom, the correct response. With this, I sat up a little straighter in my chair.