There was advance announcement in 3 different newspapers, and the turnout was great – in fact, standing room only (after about 250 chairs were set out).

I showed you the location earlier, but here it is again – the building to my right, the magnificent c.1900 Stock Exchange building, no longer in use (gone online, like everything).

The inside was gorgeous – a large, open circular room of great style and (expensive) taste.

Once again, Emilio Cagetti and his wife Ginetta Pastorino (great-niece of Taraffo) lent their original Gazzo harp guitar on its stand, once owned by Pasquale’s brother Rinaldo.  The high quality photos in this series were taken by Giorgo Scarfi.

Caption: “Did our wives actually get together and plan our matching outfits?!”

Cellist, conductor and former professor at the Paganini Conservatory, Nevio Zanardi (right) introduced Franco and the evening.

Jose’ Scanu (left) and Fabrizio Giudice performed 3 duets of guitar music honoring Taraffo.

Next, Giorgio De Martino discussed Taraffo’s reputation among opera stars during his lifetime, from an article he wrote for Musica magazine and Harpguitars.net.  Giorgio is currently Andrea Bocelli’s press agent.

Franco next played Taraffo’s “Norma” 78 – a whole different experience than listening to a CD!

Beppe Gambetta spoke about the emotional connection he has to Taraffo’s music as a guitarist and fellow Genovese.
Much was made of the apparent “PDA” (public display of affection) between myself and the attractive mystery woman (is Franco giving us a disapproving stare?!), but she was only whispering in my ear the translations…honest!

Beppe next introduced me and I did my best to explain Taraffo’s role and reputation in both America and the worldwide harp guitar movement.

Chiara did a great job translating my ad libs, and we had fun.  My little attempts at humor met with mostly stony silence, so I kept it pretty straight.  Here’s as far as we went with our impromptu “comedy act.”

Fabrizio came out and played Taraffo’s arrangement of “Fantasia Capriccio” on his 1898 Oreste Candi 3-bass harp guitar (video, like above, is by Margarita, on her mini recorder).  Fabrizio is in the midst of preparing some important Taraffo material, as he studied guitar with one of the last living eyewitnesses to Taraffo’s technique.  Privately, he demonstrated for me the two unique Taraffo tremolos (I’ll not spoil the surprise).

And finally, a program (including some Taraffo) by the Genova Mandolin Orchestra, conducted by Eliano Calamaro.

Quite an event, and kudos to Franco and friends for putting on and including me in such a prestigious event!

And Chiara – we need to go on the road!

Next time: Visiting some old guitar pals in town!

I had expressed an interest to Giorgio Ferraris the night before in seeing the Lutherie School, and he graciously made himself available for a couple of hours this morning.

After meeting the school’s Director, Virginia Villa, and receiving a gift of an elaborate book about the school from her, Giorgio took us around to the various instrument-building classes.

Either this or another lute class was led by Lorenzo Lippi, who is a good friend of Alex Timmerman (“bass guitar” – ie: harp guitar – researcher)

Building an Italian mandocello

In the Restoration laboratory, headed by Gabriele Negri

Gradually and methodically closing an open crack of an Armando Giulietti guitar.  I saw a lot of new (to me) tricks of the trade in my hour in this lab alone.

The ribs of a mandolin being carefully aligned during re-gluing

Significant tortoiseshell repair and replacement required

Gabriele with rare violin from La Scala, with “before” photo.  He explained that it was crushed when a someone inadvertently sat on it.  The repairs are largely invisible.

Downstairs, the school maintains a permanent collection of examples by its students.  I was drooling over dozens of fine reproductions of all the variant forms of historical lutes and guitars, an education in itself.  These are all exacting replicas of surviving instruments from important collections.  The school’s very strict rules include doing something over if the measurement is off by more than a tenth of a millimeter.

Baroque guitars and amazing reproduction of the huge vihuela of the Musée Jacquemart-Andrée

Side view

The other side of the case, with more Baroque guitars

A beautiful rosette.  Giorgio says that this student went on to become a full time artisan doing nothing but rosettes for museums, collectors and builders of historical replicas all over the world.

The several lutes in this case represent the multitude of sizes and pitches

Opposite side

The side of the case and an unusual double-headed lute

These lutes include (I believe) an arciliuto (center) and a liuto attiorbato (right), distinct forms/tunings/variants

Honestly, they must have had every possible version of historical lute reproduced here, all the more interesting and enlightening to me, after absorbing (and continuing to!) the new Lute book I’m proud to offer in the States.  Again, I could have spent a day here, bombarding Giorgio with endless questions.

Some of these fascinating reproductions are based on ancient illustrations, as no instruments have survived.  I was quite amazed by the unusual, angled “block frets” of the two citolas.

Opposite side of the case

Even a copy of the rare arch-cittern I saw the day before at Castle Sforza.  Lying next to this on top of the case was a student’s perfect reproduction Weissenborn!

What a great visit – thanks, Giorgio, and all the instructors who gave us their time!

We were then treated to dinner by Giulia and Hiroki at one of their favorite traditional Milanese restaurants.  On the way back to the train station for the trip home, Hiroki and Giulia took us to their favorite book store to browse for our last half hour.  I found no cool new music books, but was thrilled to see my friend Jonathan Kellerman’s beautiful guitar book (which I also stock) over there!

Back at Franco’s, we had a nice dinner with Enrico De Filippi and the Gambetta’s: Beppe and Federica (most excellent cook Margarita is taking the photo).  Enrico we had seen a lot of during our last visit: wine merchant and fellow guitar music aficionado who helps with Taraffo research (and gave me several new pieces of historical harp guitar music he tracked down on the web).  The evening was not all socializing – Franco, Beppe and I were obliged to discuss and plan our comments for the following day’s presentation.  Mostly, I was instructed to “behave.”

Next time: Standing room only at the “Memories of Pasquale Taraffo” public presentation & concert!

I had met Giorgio on the last night of our Genoa trip 2 years ago when he came to Franco’s home, bringing for my perusal his own Gazzo harp guitar which he acquired from in1966 and came from Taraffo’s son.  I learned then that Giorgio is a professional lutenist/guitarist/scholar who holds a position at the Civica Scuola di Liuteria di Milano, teaching lute, guitar, history, and so much more.

Spending just a short evening in his home, I discovered much more (including how out of my humble element I was) as Giorgio disclosed just a few of his many scholarly and musical accomplishments, in between pulling out every one of his many lutes and guitars for our enjoyment (sorry, I forget which maker the beauty at left is).

Giorgio has been involved in the Early Music revival since the 1960s, including much time in England, studying lute with the late, great queen of the lute herself, Diana Poulton.  As a young man, he was shrewd enough to order an instrument (a swan-neck Baroque lute) from Michael Lowe, then and now considered one of the greatest modern lute builders. He showed us that exquisite instrument, plus a second Lowe swan-neck lute, among a superlative collection of historically accurate and artistically and musically stunning lutes of seemingly every possible size and form.  One expert lute he handed us (again, I apologize for forgetting the maker) was so fine, it seemed as if we were literally holding a balloon, as close to “weightless” as a large wooden structure could possibly hope to achieve – as if an optical illusion.

A stunning nearly 6 to 7-foot long “G” (80cm scale) 14-course theorbo was what we saw upon entering his living room, as he was readying for a concert rehearsal with his group, Ensemble Baschenis.  Yes, we’d be getting a free “practice” concert later that evening (Dinner and a Show – who knew?!).

The group is named after another one of Giorgio’s many specialties: he is an expert on Evaristo Baschenis (1617-1677), a painter from Bergamo who is considered to be one of the most important painters of still lives of musical instruments.  This was all new to me, but the 50 some paintings of Baschenis depict actual specimens of the period, all captured in excruciatingly accurate detail, down to the occasional maker’s stamp where visible in the tableau.  These have been thoroughly investigated by Giorgio and other experts, and the instruments fully cataloged and identified to the extent possible by the perspective and views the painting tableau’s offer.  Very cool.  He showed me more than one book that catalogs this work, which he co-authored or was otherwise consulted on.  They also did a traveling museum exhibit at one time that included both Baschenis’ paintings and the actual or equivalent surviving instruments depicted.

Anyway, we had an hour or so before dinner to head to the lower music studio/office level to see Giorgio’s collection.

Odds and ends adorn the long circular stairwell.  He had two unlabeled European harp guitars, and an interesting one that was apparently thinking about becoming a hollow-arm guitar but gave up.

I laid down on the last step to take this shot above.

The first thing I spotted in his music studio hanging up near the ceiling (just out of frame) was a duplicate of that crazy harp-viol that I discussed in the last blog. We puzzled over that awhile.

In the studio with his Gazzo (on a reproduction stand made at his school) and an exquisite Michael Lowe swan-neck lute.

The intricately carved head of his other Lowe.

A fine Guadagnini guitar

A beautiful back of another (my notes say another Guadagnini of a different era?).

This was a strange one!

I love the shape of this one – a Godone, copied after a similar instrument of the period by Guadagnini.

We were joined for dinner by Alessandra Milesi, the Baroque cellist of the trio.  Lively conversation and sharing of our different but similarly interesting musical worlds ensued.  When I mentioned the Italo Meschi study on my site as being a particularly proud collaborative achievement, Giorgio said he had just written a review for the new book.  (*gulp* – new book?!)

I didn’t even know this had been completed.  My friend and co-author Riccardo Sarti had mentioned that Italian guitar scholar Marco Bazzotti (a new friend I had met 2 years ago) was working on this with a nephew of Italo.  A subsequent email went directly out to Marco (I’m anxious for my copy!).

We were then joined by Marco Capucci, who plays historical (reproduction) mandolins, two of which he brought with him.

Practicing for an upcoming performance of rare music for early mandolin with other instruments.  Giorgio is playing his “road theorbo” (my term), a somewhat shorter-necked Paduan version (again, historically accurate) of his full length “G” theorbo.

Giorgio gave us all of the group’s several CDs of rare Baroque music, re-created with a – well, let this excerpt from their web site explain it.  This is scholarship, passion and discipline far beyond my own:

“Founded in 1993 by Giorgio Ferraris, Marco Luca Capucci and Alessandra Milesi, the Ensemble performs early music that has undergone rigorous philological research on scoring, performing habits of the time and a thorough re-evaluation of original repertories. With years of study, research, concert performances and recording to their credit, the Ensemble has performed on tours in Italy and abroad.
Throughout the years it has developed diverse programs featuring Renaissance and Baroque vocal music, including Renaissance dance and featuring Jewish music from the 1600′s and the 1700′s as well as a repertory of music for mandolin from the 18th century.
The hallmark of the group is their expressly chosen flexible structure: the basic formation adds other musicians and performers allowing various configurations to emerge depending on the concerts and events planned.
The Ensemble has made four recordings with both Ducale and Concerto of their repertory of music for mandolin from the 1700′s, exploring the repertory for both one mandolin or two mandolins, as well as for mandolin and violin.”

With the amount of interest in the States in early music, and the rarity of much of the Ensemble’s repertoire, I would like to see some of our organizations book them in the future.  Giorgio says that they would love an opportunity to tour the United States.

A big thanks to Giorgio and Lara for their hospitality, and to Alessandra and Marco (who kindly drove us home) for the music!

Next time: Giorgio gives us a VIP tour of the Civica Scuola di Liuteria di Milano!

Last blog, I left off at the Sforza Castle museums with a view of the hallway display of the Monzino Collection.

This is where I spent the bulk of my time, as I have long been fascinated by the images on the site of the Fondazione Antonio Carlo Monzino, which have been included on Harpguitars.net for some time.  The images, however, are small, low resolution photos, so I was excited to see the real thing.  Unfortunately, only about half of the collection was on display, but what I saw, I was in love with.  Many of these are amazingly fine instruments, in seemingly mint condition.

Starting from the far end of the hall, where one enters, I immediately spotted a familiar shape among the old guitar molds from the Monzino shop: a harp mandolin, looking a bit like my own.   It looked about 3-1/2” deep.

A couple of fine early guitars and mandolinos.  BTW, all the provenance of these instruments should be available on the Monzino site here.

This is an interesting one.  Built by Gelmini Giovanni in Brescia in 1844.  It has a simple, small body, about the size and shape of an early Gibson L-series guitar, with a soundhole about 2” in diameter.  PS: Please ignore the idiot photographer’s reflection in these images.

The headstock, by contrast, is quite an elaborate affair – though perhaps simple in construction – and completely distinctive amidst the thousands of harp guitars in the Harpguitars.net Galleries.

A beautiful theorbo-style harp guitar by Innocente Rottola of the Cremonese school, built in 1906.  And the same maker’s stunning triple-neck – a guitar with stereo mandolins!

The intricate side inlay of the Rottola.

Exquisite fingerboard inlays and beautifully carved compound headstock

A beautiful hollow-arm harp guitar built by Severino Riva in Milan in 1911.  I would imagine gut strings would be more proper?  The Collection also has a similar instrument by Luigi Galimberti from 1910, with 8 basses, not on display.

Elaborate and beautiful carving and inlay.

A large reproduced image showing Milan’s mandolin and guitar orchestra in 1886.  Note the 3 harp guitars and the Milanese lyre guitar that looks much like the specimen on exhibit:

A c.1920 Lyre guitar by the Monzino & Sons and lyre-mandolin (mandolira) by A. Monzino and Garlandini.  2 exquisite mandolins and a Cetra di Nerone (“Nero’s Lyre”) by Parravicini Piero built in 1924 for an opera.   It has no fingerboard (ergo, not a “lyre guitar” at all), though it does have 6 strings, tunable from pins in the back.

Note the singer with the instrument in the production.  Though a “prop,” it is a beautifully made one.  It has a deep, hollow body with a fine spruce top – so, despite the theatrical accoutrements, it may have sounded great plucked or strummed in an open chord.

I’ve seen several pictures of these, but never one “in the wood.”  A 4-string bowed guitar (arcichitarre).  This one is roughly cello-size, made by Riva also.

The reproduced Method shows a performer with one (plucking), and with the larger bass version, dubbed the chitarrone.  Incredible!

As I said, I still wished I could’ve seen a couple other instruments, like the Giulietti harp guitar (featured in our Special Feature on Harpguitars.net) and especially this one:

What was it?  As luck would have it, later in the week, my friend Alberto Giordano would give me his copy of the Sforza Musical Instrument CD-rom.  A nice, if slow-to-browse, multimedia reference source, it allowed me to zoom in on the instruments.  Thus, I was now able to see that the unlabeled c.1900’s Sorta di Cetera con Bordoni (a “sort of cittern with drones”) had 8 strings on the neck, 3 of which (#5,6,7?) could be sharpened with long “finger capos” presumably activated from behind.

The curious fretted extension for the 8 sub-basses obviously functions as a “capo platform,” with a simple but clever device able to slide along the center slot, to clamp against any of the 5 or 7 frets for transposing all strings for different keys.  Note that the neck has a fan-fret biased scale (!) while the bass is straight to allow the capo device to work.  I wonder where this came from, and how it ended up in the Monzino collection.  Were the neck strings tuned open, with this yet another take on the old C-E-G-tuned cittern-like English Guitar?  Such instruments tend to have sharping and capoing devices for simple key changes for the simple playing techniques.  Or is it meant to be more of an elaborate harp guitar, with 10 extra strings?  Gut or steel strings?  A curious hybrid, indeed.

I kept going back to the Monzino hall, as I liked the presentation and it had such great pieces.  But the rest of the collection had some cool things as well, spread out in the large castle halls.

I was disappointed that the many nice keyboards and harps were in a huge room that was also hung with rare tapestries.  Because of them, the light was kept to a minimum.  Ergo, I didn’t photograph much (I couldn’t really see much).  I had to do later major Photoshopping to see their best harp, here.

This one was in better light.  An unlabelled Viennese instrument, c.1815-1820. I continue to crave adding a giraffe piano (in harp form, naturally) to our own home.  You’ll all have to work on Jaci for that one to happen.

A pretty rough 1836 Guadagnini harp guitar in the typical 3-bass Viennese style with a replaced bridge.  I’m not sure I’d be displaying this one.

There were two huge and wonderful 1760-1780 bass mandolones by Gaspari Ferrari of Rome , each with 2 floating bass courses, as was often done.  In other words, a large bass mandola, with 6 fretted courses and 2 floating (all in pairs), and apparently meant to be metal strung.

This very lovely and distinctive Italian lyre guitar (19^th century, unlabelled) might be the very specimen I include in my Lyre Guitar Gallery.  Like meeting an old friend!

While this one, of unknown provenance (Spanish, I believe?), is a delightful, folksier version with a fish bridge and moon face inlay.

Another instrument I’d never seen in person: a wonderful arch-cittern of the older “true” configuration, resembling the 1755 Klemm in the Arch-Citterns Gallery.

This last instrument fascinated me…what in the world is going on?  A large viol strung like a harp?  I want one!  In fact, it’s like a “harp-viol,” with fretted strings and floating subs – cool!  But wait a minute…that severely slanted bridge would mean – yes, it’s an “impossible instrument.”  The perpendicular frets couldn’t be used!  So what then?  It’s not terribly “high end,” but it was built by an instrument maker, with simple but decent quality.  Were the frets ignored, with it just plucked or strummed like a harp?  Was it played at all?  Amazingly, that very night, I would see an exact duplicate of this unusual antique instrument (at our next stop and next blog).  We agreed that they were most likely made – like the “stage lyre” above – as “functional fantasy props” for one of the local opera productions.

Next: A visit with theorbo player Giorgio Ferraris!

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

But first, a quick stop in the separate Museum of Historical Fashion & Costume, full of period art and costumes.  Jaci was allowed to take photos here, and did so, capturing all the costumes, some in great detail.  Here’s a sample of some of my favorite of Jaci’s photos, especially where items are displayed in rooms meant to evoke the period:

The castle makes a nice skyline as one approaches.  I stitched 3 photos together to capture the expanse.  Like most everything we try to photograph, it’s way bigger than it looks.

Of course, any tourist spot attracts numerous street artists and vendors  – numerous sketch artists, the obligatory mime (did Milan not get the memo on mimes being cliché and passé?  I swear I saw more in our 3 days in this city than in the States throughout the entire ‘70’s…).

This enterprising soul was making vegetable carvings, a dying art, I’m sure.

Dig the shrimp!

Jaci made a donation and got a charming carrot bird, with a tiny eye from a seed or something.

OK, time to go in. Castello Sforzesco was/is a castle/stronghold of the 14^th-15^th century that was partially demolished in 1450, then rebuilt by Francesco Sforza (the new lord of the city), becoming then one of the most sumptuous courts of Europe.  But soon it next served as an army barracks to a revolving door of conquering armies – the Spanish, then Austrians, then French, and then the Austrians again.   I imagine this as one long (and deadly) sitcom.  It was only with the unification of Italy in the 19^th century (not until the 19^th century?!) that it was again restored, given to the Milanese people and transformed into the museum and tourist venue that it is today. Collections include Archaeology/Pre-history, Art (Picture, Ancient, Decorative, Prints, Photographs), Furniture, Egyptology, and a substantial musical instrument collection that recently was increased by the addition of the wonderful Monzino collection.

Cannonballs in the old moat area.

We love hanging out in museums, but didn’t get to see all they had to offer.  Jaci spent hours in the Egyptian area …

We prefer our mummies in museums, rather than in church…

…while I geeked out in the music section for a couple hours.  This is the recent addition, the hall of the Monzino Foundation collection – unfortunately only about half the instruments, but still a huge treat.  I’ll start here next.

Next time: The Musical Instrument Collection at Castle Sforza, including Monzino hall!

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

BTW, 90% of the non-guitar photos of our travelogue were taken by Jaci with her little automatic 8meg Canon.  Nice, huh?  Some random examples:

Yes, mimes are alive and well in Milan.

The fashion district.  This went out and on – all the famous brands, plus many more outside my limited orbit.  Most had a private butler manning the door.

The women enjoyed the window treatments.

Sorry, Mom, but I declined to bring you back a 4000 euro handbag.

If you think we were going to get out of the pet fashion store without spending the equivalent of our dogs’ college education, you don’t know my wife. (PS: In case you forgot, this is Franco’s granddaughter Giulia in all these photos)

OK, we can see all that on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills…we’re more into the historical aspects and old architecture.

Long cast iron grates covering the city’s functional operations below.

Cool doors.

Another pair.

Jaci really loves this stuff.

So do I – I could live in a neighborhood like this!

Yes, besides doors and manhole covers, Jaci zealously snapped photos of every pooch we came across on the trip (surely in the millions) – because “the breeds are a bit different than they are in the States.”  In any event, I thought this one was pretty cool.

More of those fun construction projects “disguised” with elaborate tarp-like coverings that depicted the planned result – sometimes in realistic black & white graphics…

… sometimes as simple bold outlines that seemed to be begging for attention from a giant baby with a Costco-size set of Crayolas.

Just getting a taste of different Milanese architecture and style.

A random, more regulation-size church…

…and one in a completely different style.

A courtyard of some palace unknown (to us), though clearly a tourist’s stop.  We didn’t learn the identity of the central statue, nor the Tinkerbell-like fairy perched on his arm.

Just a taste – you’re welcome to come over and we’ll do a slide show of another thousand shots…meanwhile:

Next time: The collections at Castello Sforzesco! (like I could possibly pronounce that)

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

I won’t comment on the two ginormous display ads plastered on the back of the noble cathedral (a pricey car, and this fashion company) – presumably a means to pay for continuing restoration (?).  Actually, yes, I will…it fell somewhere firmly between “really tacky” and “an abomination of juxtaposition.”

On the other hand, the restoration projects in this city are handled in a clever and attractive way: note the elaborate “disguise” tarp-like coverings that hide the work, as they illustrate the eventual outcome in photo-realistic black & white graphics.

Meanwhile, we quickly got in line and made it to the entrance door.   And what doors!

That is some major sculptural door work in cast bronze.

Inside was dark and cavernous, with a bit of a “land that time forgot” vibe.  Speaking of forget, I was chastised for not removing my hat.

Can you imagine hearing this organ, especially in context?

Fascinating in a very different way were a couple of “mummy Cardinals under glass.”  Yes, these are  real preserved remains – shrunken, dried hands, ashen hair poking out of the shiny metal death mask...

Underground, there was a tiny museum room with ancient papal treasures.

For lunch, Giulia took us up to a nice restaurant on the top floor of the adjacent building, which gives one a spectacular view of the endless procession of carved parapets and such (sans product placement).

Despite my conservative Midwest upbringing, I was enthralled with the glorious excess of such an endeavor.  Quite humbling.

Next time: Milan, Day 2: Meandering Sightseeing (plus – yes, doors and dogs!)

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

As it turned out, we discovered 2 different costume exhibits (plus art and Egyptology) to engage Jaci and 4 stringed instrument collections to make it a very worthwhile harp guitar-related trip.  As for friends, Franco’s granddaughter Giulia and her boyfriend Hiroki are living in Milan, and offered to be our guides, and I also took Giorgio Ferraris – whom I had met at the end of our trip 2 years ago – up on his offer to visit any time we came to Milan.  Again, our indispensable host Franco methodically orchestrated all the details for us.

We ended up taking a ton of nice (and hopefully not too boring) pictures, so I’ll break this down into shorter, more frequent, chapters.

And so, off for a train ride of a bit under 2 hours.  I had hoped for some good photo opportunities en route, but A) scenery was a bit flat for our liking, B) the windows were too rain-streaked and filthy to shoot through anyway, and C) I immediately became drowsy and fell asleep, so the point was moot.  Dang jet lag.

The Milan train station was an impressive 100-year old structure.

We were met by Giulia…

…with her assistant, Bebe.  Then off by taxi for a quick stop at our hotel, then a short jog to catch (just!) the cable car to the city center before things closed up.

Dominating the square is the Duomo cathedral, the third largest church in the world.  Not too shabby.  Construction began in 1386, with the façade finally finished by Napoleon in the 19^th century.  We went inside the next day, so stay tuned.

To the left of the cathedral is the imposing archway of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II shopping center.  Overkill, again, but similarly impressive.

Under the open-ended indoor/outdoor “mall.”

It had incredible marble tile walkways

Turned out we had just enough time to go through Museo Teatrale alla Scala (The Theatrical  Museum at the La Scala Opera House), which we were told had many rooms of art, opera memorabilia and costumes, with musical instruments sprinkled throughout.

Despite the inevitable Non Fotografia signs at the entrance and the many lurking guards (the city’s Classifieds read: “Wanted: Non-English-speaking guards. Must be able to lurk.”), we managed to sneak a couple pics, including the amazing, restored theater with its endless stories of boxes in a grand semi-circle.

Jaci managed to sneak some nice reference photos of the costumes (hey, she would’ve bought the book, but there wasn’t one).

I wasn’t as fortunate with the instruments, but upon immediately spotting the first display case (on the back wall in this photo from the souvenir book I bought), it hit me that I had seen these before…in fact, they were already on the web site!  Turns out the entire La Scala instrument collection is pictured in the elaborate and expensive (and long out-of-print) book La collezione di strumenti  musicali del Museo Teatrale alla Scala, which I had picked up at Tony Bingham’s in London many years ago.  I hadn’t researched or connected the two as this was an impromptu side trip.  In any event, I was glad I already had photos of everything I needed, and similarly glad to see all these interesting instruments “in the wood”…

…although I was a little taken aback by the condition, quality, and construction of some of them.  The super-John Doan-style double-neck, with its 6 sub-basses, two necks (standard and terz), and 17 super-trebles was an amazing variant for c.1860, but not of real professional quality.  I was able to hover right over it in its glass case.

In the same display case, this unusual instrument was identified as a c.1900 chitarrone popolare – meaning a much later “folk theorbo” – and was somewhat sloppily made, with overly gaudy inlays and such.

Another one-off instrument, again more rustic than the photo leads one to believe – despite the fancy carved heads – was the interesting 1894 Verona “guitar-mandolin,” which I’ve had in the Composite Form Harp Guitars gallery due to its added non-fretted strings, which are really 3 zither-like strings (as in “sub-basses tuned high” would be my guess).

I was unable to determine if any of these instruments might have been created as “functional props” for various operas.  Clearly the nice Fabricatore lyre guitar (Naples, 1821) and Preston harp-lute (London, early 1800’s) were authentic quality instruments, as are the many rare violins, keyboards and winds in the collection – unrelated to the history of the opera house.

We ended the day with a relaxing dinner at Giulia’s home, with Hiroki arriving in time to join us from his long day as design production manager for a Japanese leather goods company.

With a full itinerary planned for the following day, we presently went home to bed with cautious hopes of more agreeable weather.

Next: Milan, Day 2 Morning: Outside & Inside Duomo!

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

The second day of our trip happened to be Easter Sunday, and so it would be a relaxing day of food and family (with Jaci and I “adopted family”).  But first, a “short, 30-minute walk” with Franco, that turned into 2 hours.  But that’s Genoa!

Starting out, the very first thing we come across around a couple of short corners is Genoa’s largest church, Chiesa di S. Maria.  You may recall that it can be prominently seen in the upper right of this panoramic postcard we got 2 years ago.

Franco took us on a long walk around the city center, rather than down into it, so everything was new to us, starting with another local church, still undergoing restoration after a many years.

A small but lovely palazzo.  On the top of (behind) the wall is the porte cochere (car port).

We soon reached a circular promenade overlooking the gorgeous Ligurian Sea.  Weather was lovely, if a bit chilly.

A corner apartment building bordering the promenade park.  Beautiful (and pricey).

A rare, private back yard/garden behind another apartment complex.

Not sure what the zoning is on the billboards, it’s common on many long flat walls.  Luckily, most walls are ornate and left unadorned.  Graffiti is also at a minimum in Franco’s neighborhood.

A large, quiet, wooded park surround an old municipal building, now a museum.  The photographer (Jaci) is facing the sea.

On the other side of the park, looking east.

A random apartment building, with charming corner open gazebo rooftop gardens.

A long narrow parkway, with that wonderful Genovese Dr. Seussian layout becoming more apparent.  I’m pointing to the cars that have driven from the street (where I am) onto the roof of their owners’ 6-story building which is below, yet adjacent!

Same spot: Again, we are looking down at the roof of an adjacent 5-story building.  No privacy for the owners of a classy roof-top spa, but then maybe its just a swimming pool for seabirds.

The street finally becomes a bridge, as we stop to face the city center.  This is an uncommon street in Genoa – wide and straight!  At right is…

…this imposing and very ancient Romanesque church.

A few yards down, another “small” but incredible mariner’s palazzo.

We finally wind down to the large central park with that great statue of I forget who.

Ah, here’s what I so remember from the last trip – all the trompe l’oeil buildings (centuries-old painting).

We’re heading back through the shopping district, with many of stores (now closed) offering Easter goodies.  I didn’t know they were into the whole egg thing, too, but I guess spring is spring, right?

Large chocolate eggs, beautifully frosting-decorated.

We are always mesmerized by the endless commonplace details that any Architectural Salvage store in the States would kill for.

Just a couple examples – I’ll spare you Jaci’s endless shots of doors and about a thousand manhole covers (which are a bit cooler than ours).

All of a sudden, things looked again familiar, and we realized we had reached the corner of our hotel from the last trip.  A few steps, and we were in the unforgettable city square.  At left is…

…the beautiful 100-year-old stock exchange building, which we now learn is where we will be holding Friday’s concert!

As I said, this was about a 2-hour walk, and we were now late for Easter brunch, so took a cab home to meet…

…Franco’s daughter Rosella and husband Giorgio.  Margarita had the table laid out with Easter decorations…

…including the traditional colomba cake (= dove).  “Buona Pasqua” says “Happy Easter!”

But first lunch, which was lasagna, then the traditional lamb stew (among many other things, including the ubiquitous wine).

Unbeknownst to Franco and family, Jaci had prepared a little surprise of our own – the traditional American Easter egg hunt!  She had brought it all from home, and had quietly hidden them throughout some of the rooms when she got up.

It was a hit, with Margarita finding the most (and making the most noise).  Franco managed to find the one brought especially for him, the elaborate DVD set of The Ten Commandments (with “parting Red Sea”!), in which Jaci appears in the Special Features.  Franco is a major technophile, so managed to play it.

Margarita received from Rosella and Giorgio one of those beautiful decorated chocolate eggs…

…only to immediately destroy it – tearing it open to find various toys and treats inside.

We later spent the final daylight hours (after which we immediately crashed) on Franco’s back patio, overlooking the port.  Hey, that’s the same cruise ship that was parked there last trip! (the Tasmanian Devil rather overwhelms the port).

Next time: Off to Milan!

You can also go back and begin at the start of our 2012 Italian adventure here: Another Genoese Feast, with a Side Dish of Milan

And so we begin, pretty much where we left off…with my esteemed and tireless Taraffo research collaborator, Franco Ghisalberti, once again hosting us for the journey.

Leaving at the crack of dawn on Friday, April 6^th meant we would finally arrive in Genoa on what was then Saturday afternoon, after the expected 20+ tedious hours of travel.  We were dutifully picked up by Franco, family and friends in two cars as I was hauling an empty CaseXtrme harp guitar flight case as luggage (as Chico Marx says in Cocoanuts, “We fill it up before-a we leave.”).

We would stay with Franco at his city home for this trip (with the amazing Margarita, his aide, who has been with the family for 12 years).  It was pretty much as I remembered; with his own small harp guitar collection now hanging in the rear foyer (you saw all these instruments in our last adventure).

It was a short day of visiting, dinner, and an early bedtime – but not before unveiling the prize I had brought the case for.

As readers might remember, I closed 2010’s trip report with the mention that new friend, violin expert Alberto Giordano, had tracked down this rare instrument in a Paris shop, which he eventually acquired for me, after negotiating it down to a manageable price.  After a full inspection (Alberto being a knowledgeable expert on this maker) he delivered it to Franco, to await my return (we discussed shipping options, but, frankly, I think Franco kept it as “bait” to entice us to return…).

It needs just a bit of restoration and re-stringing and should then be a pretty stunning piece.  It was built in Genoa, circa 1920 (definitely by 1922, as indicated by the label style) by Paolo De Barbieri (1889-1962), one of Cesare Candi’s top protégés.  Typically, guitars and the occasional mandolin were just a small sideline for these top violin-makers.

It was this style of Candi harp guitar that I have long lusted after, with the only example I know of (at right) – built by Oreste Candi (1865-1938), brother of Cesare (1869-1947) – being in the possession of Riccardo Marasco (an important instrument that sadly defies our attempts to obtain photos or crucial dating information).  I found it interesting and certainly not a coincidence that the design of this distinctive and attractive “lap held” instrument is so similar to the original floor-standing Candi “chitarpa” created in the early 1900s (below).  As if the brothers just sort of “sectioned off” the real estate of the pedestal area to leave themselves with a more practical harp guitar.  Or was it vice versa?

You may remember the three recently-discovered instruments by Priano (which I introduced in the 2010 report, of which 2 are seen flanking a Gazzo in the first photo above) – which also clearly show this Candi influence (including the carved appliqués on the corners), but De Barbieri was directly following his teacher’s lead.  Note that his has the same distinctive headstock shape as on Cesare’s 9-string, and how the instrument seems even closer in style to the top portion of Cesare’s floor-standing chitarpa.

Alberto (who has seen more of these rare Genovese maker instruments than anyone) has seen a couple of De Barbieri 6-string guitars, a single 3-bass theorbo-style instrument, and this single hollow-arm specimen.  It’s all the more special in having a full eight sub-basses, which of course, is Pasquale Taraffo’s own configuration.  Despite his popularity and influence, however, nearly all other players (and instruments) stuck to just 3 to 6 basses.

I’ll do a more in-depth feature on the De Barbieri once restored, with more on the wonderful harp guitars of the Candi brothers and their followers.

Sorry to ramble…as you can imagine, despite my exhaustion, it was hard to fall asleep with these geeky guitar thoughts churning around in my head…!

Next time: Easter Sunday with the Ghisalberti  family