“Naples exists inside me, and always will. Fortunately for me there is this treasure that I have inside of me and, when I need it, then I pull it out” said Sophia Loren (and she had a right to say this because she’s from there) but, now, it kind of applies to me, too.
Also, she was (famously) in a film called ‘Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow’ which nicely summarises what I’m about to say, too.
When I was a kid, all I knew of Neapolitan was the ice cream (still my favourite) and a vague recognition that one of the most hated men in England at the time – after what had happened in the Mexico ‘86 tournament – was winning trophies at a team called Napoli, but I was too young to join the pieces together.
Italia 90, though, saw things start to connect.
We had an Italian girl staying with us, who was in love with Toto Schillaci, and I became fully aware of the city of Naples for the first time as it was the location of several games in that tournament (the significance of which would only become clear, years down the line) as well as the home team of some of the stars of the tournament.
Calcio came to the fore, thanks to Channel 4, and my other education offered studies in Classics and Latin which included a trip to Italy in the spring of 1994. Vivid memories of the trip prevail: Green meat pies; teachers fishing retainers out of bags of sick; Vesuvius; Pompeii, pizza and a day trip to a museum within a bustling, scary city.
I took a photo of the San Paolo as out coach drove past… the closest I’ve got. Friends and I saved our lire for a football shirt on the last day: ever the aesthete, I chose the Parma away because it was more lovely whilst a friend got Napoli away, and I forever regret my choice, although this was the real start of a love affair with the region (and a flirtatious attraction to its club)
Here’s a souvenir I have kept for over twenty six years…
I moved to Liverpool, a few years later: a city very similar to Naples for a lot of reasons. A people very similar.
For years, then, I marvelled from afar, watching the club reinvent itself, and although the chance never came to see the blues play the blues. In 2005, though, a new Argentine footballing hero came to prominence (whom I saw playing for Barcelona a year later, just like his idol had at a similar age) and I started to read up on the politics and culture of Argentina which, given the twentieth anniversary of his greatest moment, kept coming back to Diego.
A steak house with his shirt on the wall opened in town (went for my 27th). I tried (but failed) to see Maradona play in the first Soccer Aid. I started reading El Diego. Adidas even released an updated version of the no. 10 shirt from 1986, which I eagerly bought and wore proudly but will never forget a guy breaking off his phone call to loudly boo me for wearing.
I try to justify it now, by thinking maybe he was a Falklands veteran or just a devout England fan, but either way, my reading around the subject brought with it a different perspective on the handball. Maradona himself described his play as with ‘bronco’ meaning anger, fight etc, but I’ve also read about the culture of cheating, overcoming injustice and poverty using any means necessary and getting away with it made it the perfect act, given what came soon after… but many will never forget nor forgive.
Anyway, when the chance finally arrived to see the (other) Azzurri in the flesh, it came at Anfield, during the Hodgson era but what was soon to become a halcyon period for Napoli with the front three and revered coach, Mazzarri. You can read the match report to see what happened: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/europe/9154975.stm
Personally disappointing, worse so to be witnessing it around gleeful Kopites, but it cemented my admiration for the Partenopei.
It was so exciting to see the fans, hear the chants, attempt to read the banners, though not so beforehand with the moody atmosphere and rumours of slashings, stabbings and more around the stadium. I’m currently reading a book about Ultras, as it was this experience that opened my eyes to what must go on every single week at their games. Not just their games, but a lot of games in Italy, it’s just that their reputation precedes them because of the other stuff that goes on in the city.
Talking of which: my second visit to the city, during my Honeymoon in 2012. We’d chosen the Amalfi Coast because of the beautiful scenery, food, architecture, lemons… and, I’ll be honest, proximity to the city I’d longed to return to for nearly twenty years.
I took the train into the city on my own (WW being too scared) and watched the pickpockets going up and down the train carriage stalking their prey with a weird sense of excitement.
Yes, there was a smell, loads of rubbish and graffiti and dodgy characters… but it was beautiful. I wandered the streets alone for a few hours, from the station to the historical centre and then worked my way back , savouring every sight, smell and sound of a whistlestop day trip. These memories lasted a lifetime… OK, I felt a bit intimidated admittedly, but in an exciting way.
Did some shopping, took some photos, ate some pizza. Fell in love again. Today I’m even wearing a badge I bought in the Galeria Principe, a wondrous shopping centre.
We returned home and, through married life then parenthood, I developed a love for daily Espressos (and the odd Campari Soda) plus the food of Gino di Campo (who hi-fived us both the weekend B was conceived, fact fans) and the merchandise of Hally Ink and Classic Football Shirts, to keep my Neapolitan fix going.
Watched every TV cookery programme that went near, shopped for and cooked all things Neapolitan (Buitoni being a particular favourite) ate pizza at every opportunity… Oh and I fell for the greatest TV series of our generation, Gomorrah. I’ve spoken enough about it, if you’ve not watched, get off this blog and get streaming NOW. The same applies to the beautiful My Brilliant Friend which we’ve both fallen in love with, too.
We seriously considered Enzo as a name for the boy… and last year, I even took a (male) colleague on a kind of date to the Everyman cinema to watch Asif Kapadia’s documentary on the man himself and educate him (he’s a lot younger than me!) which I’d also encourage everyone to see ASAP.
Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more Neapolitan, Trickett somewhat serendipitously came into my life… again, anyone who has yet to see their beautiful stuff, get on it straight away!
Regularly, on a Thursday evening at 7pm you’ll find me online purchasing – or, as is often the case, attempting to purchase alongside several other like-minded individuals – something wonderful, often made in Naples or linked to the culture. Like the Joker nearly said in the best Batman, I often ask of Iain and his team, “where do they get those beautiful things?”
When you get the product, be it a T-shirt or some coffee or even a pair of Maradona socks (a romantic Valentines gift to myself a couple of years ago) you also get some collector cards, postcards, stickers and a handwritten message thanking you for your support. If you’re lucky, at the minute you get a religious card to frame, too… this is the patron saint of Naples:
Recently, I’ve also been fortunate enough to join a few Trickett Napoli / Now in Naples Instagram tours of parts of Naples I vaguely recognised, a free gift with the purchase, virtually walking around the city, asking Joe the guide questions along the way as you meet the locals, swoon at the vibrant streets and their graffiti, dream of another time when an escape might be possible again.
These tours were a real inspiration for my most recent love letter to the football, art and food of the city – and its most famous adopted son – and I based my own homage to Maradona on the street art there as well as the works of Banksy (who stencilled a famous Madonna with Pistol in the Forcella area of the city), Holbein and the location itself.
It all began last September when I saw a Neapolitan pizza place opening nearby.
Excited, we went for my fortieth and were blown away by the quality (and service) meaning several return trips and recommendations (to friends who’ve all concurred with me) and, just before lockdown started, the owner commenting on this photo (taken with a life size cutout of the great man, on the last night of our honeymoon, back in Sorrento) I posted in advance of the film being on terrestrial TV later that evening:
He said he was considering having a mural done in the restaurant; I offered to paint it for him.
I’ve not really done much art (as in drawing and painting) out of the classroom since the London exhibition in 2012, and certainly nothing on this scale. But there was something so perfect about this opportunity: the site, the subject, the story, that I just had to see it through.
Home Teaching and Schooling offered a few extra opportunities to do some research into suitable images and some sketching in the sunshine, and eventually we agreed on the elements it would include.
I developed an idea that it should be: lifesize (like the cutout) using the ideas of perspective that Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Vetruvian Man’ inspired; as intimidating and moody as possible (incorporating the theory of the uncanny) and also using the photo realist / illusionist approach so excellently explained by James Fox in the recent documentary Age of the Image, with the trompe l’oeil approach championed by the likes of Holbein hundreds of years ago, so that it looks 3-D and the eyes follow you around the room… also, in the style of the Impressionists and Cubists, I’d simply be painting for the love of it and would be paid in food and drink (incredible pizza and wine!)
I spent time looking through the honeymoon pics, other artists’ interpretations of him in his prime, and at some pretty mad old photos of Diego from his days at Napoli, as this would be the most authentic time period to focus on.
We then added a couple of extra touches to fit the restaurant name, logo and theme, too. I loved looking at images of Diego’s halcyon days, what with how his life unravelled since then and now seemed to get partly back on track recently. Of particular help were a couple of Trickett’s books, and the tours, and I re-honed my drawing skills for the first time in a generation.
The unprecedented period went on (and on) and we settled on a date, just in time for restrictions being eased and the restaurant re-opening.
Excitedly I did a rough, packed a back of materials and said goodbye to the family, knowing this was an incredibly important moment and opportunity which I really appreciated, which celebrated a lifelong adoration and which might just kickstart a restart for my productive processes.
It took me exactly five hours to complete – the longest I’d spent on a painting since probably my art A Level (‘Still Life with Oranges and Marlboros’) and I loved every minute. I really think Diego might be the catalyst for me taking up portraiture and other art again, if and when time allows in the new normal.
Honestly, it was amazing to take the kids and WW to see the painting (and have yet another fantastic meal) a week later and, in the words of High School Musical, this could be the start of something new.
Watch this space.
You can go and see the mural for yourself in the toilet of Il Capitano’s, St. John’s Road, Waterloo (the idea is he watches you as you enter and do your business) now they’re re-opened. They’ve done fantastically as a takeaway in that time, but now here is a new talking point for new visitors. Indeed, the first weekend after I did the painting, a couple from Naples came to eat.
I hope they liked seeing a piece of their home here: further proof of what Sophia once said.
