Elena Balzano

Judging by the variety of garments depicted in fine detail in Etruscan art, we are dealing with a people subject to multiple cultural influences, also as regards fashion. So much so that, if an “Etruscan style” existed, it would be impossible to imagine it outside the context of trade relations and frequent exchanges between Mediterranean and Near Eastern peoples. This is the case with the variations on the chiton, a garment of Greek origin, but also with hairstyles like the long plait worn down the back, of Oriental derivation, or the tutulus imported from Greece, but interpreted according to typical local forms. Larissa Bonfante seeks to identify the most indigenous features of Etruscan fashion by conducting a multifaceted analysis of its development from the 8th to the 5th century BCE. She does this with the aid of a rich iconography that follows the evolution of individual garments, footwear, ornaments and hairstyles, about which written sources yield little information. It is through artists that we know about the Etruscans’ fondness for luxury that led them to adorn themselves with jewelry and accessories; their custom of wearing tailor-made clothes as opposed to the loose, flowing garments worn by the Greeks, and their reluctance to embrace the nudity favoured by the latter.  But also their fondness for a wide range of hats in contrast to the Greek custom of going bareheaded, and the female custom of wearing clothing that elsewhere was reserved for men, such as the semicircular tebenna, the short mantle that could even be worn back to front, and footwear with laces. This custom reflected the freedom enjoyed by women in Etruscan public life and society, compared to those in other coeval civilizations. For Bonfante, clothing becomes an important historical document for dating finds and attributing a gender, a social rank, and even a name to the figures depicted. Although Etruscan fashion reflected the assimilation of Greek and Near Eastern models that were then transmitted to the Roman world, this still left room for the development of a specifically Etruscan style.

The travel dairies of esteemed figures who took the Grand Tour, such as the explorer and Etruscan scholar George Dennis, the watercolour artist Samuel James Ainsley, and Elizabeth Hamilton Gray, a pioneering nineteenth-century female scholar of Etruria, still contribute to the study of Etruscan civilisation and the sites that were its cradle. But before these illustrious individuals came Wilhelm Dorow, a diplomat at the court of Frederick William III of Prussia, an historian, a man of letters and an orientalist, but first and foremost an archaeologist and collector of antiquities. In fact, he was one of the first to visit the cities of ancient Etruria with a scholarly focus, documenting the artistic and archaeological treasures of the hinterlands of Siena and Arezzo, between Cortona, Chiusi and Arezzo.Dorow’s notebook, published almost twenty years in advance of George Dennis’s celebrated The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, is a key source for the history of Etruscan studies and the collection of antiquities. This Italian edition, translated from the French version of 1829, comes complete with the sixteen original prints. Dedicated to Bertel Thorvaldsen, with whom Dorow corresponded over the years, and who had words of praise for his collection, the notebook documents a trip that Dorow began from Florence in the summer of 1827.Accompanied by Squire Francesco Inghirami - author of, among other works, the imposing illustrated volume Monumenti Etruschi - and by the artist Giuseppe Lucherini, whose task it was to portray the ancient artefacts, Dorow’s in-depth knowledge of the Italian context sets his account apart from those of his English contemporaries, thanks to sharp, precise insights that, even today, are of great use to archaeologists. His descriptions of visits to the places where the most important Etruscan artefacts are found, and to the leading private collections of Etruscan antiquities, are rendered all the more thorough by Lucherini’s painstakingly detailed drawings. What emerges is an overview of Etruria in the 19th century, highlighting Dorow’s invaluable contribution to reconstructing the history of the collections and their destinies, and all this in the decisive years when mere curiosity for Etruscan antiquities was evolving into serious scholarship.

One of the most famous American petrol industrialists and “richest man of America” from 1950 to 1970, J. Paul Getty was above everything else an insatiable art and antiques collector. Getty started collecting in the 1930s and continued compulsively throughout his entire life, despite having many times tried to stop, as he recounts in his autobiography As I See It. The Joys of Collecting by Getty is a short book in which the author recalls a number of personal anecdotes – revolving around a series of highly representative pieces of antiques, furniture and paintings –, explains his art-collecting philosophy, offers advice, and recalls his greatest successes, encouraging novice collectors to face the perils and hazards of art collecting and, regardless of budget limitations, enjoy the thrill, the drive and sense of adventure he himself enjoyed so much.  If the personal pleasure of laying hands on an artwork is a major component of Getty’s narrative, this book is also about his genuine faith in the civilising influence exerted by great artworks and the importance of sharing them with the public: “Banal as it may sound in this glib and brittle age, the beauty that one finds in fine art is one of the pitifully few real and lasting products of all human endeavour. That beauty endures even though nations and civilizations crumble; the work of art can be passed on from generation to generation and century to century, providing a historical continuity of true value.” It was his wish that his private collection would become the J. Paul Getty Museum of Malibu.   Translated by Elena Balzano.