The Magical Atlas of Italian Sharecropping

a project by

Marta Pagliuca Pelacani

Sharecropping

sharecrop | ˈʃɛːkrɒp | verb (sharecrops, sharecropping, sharecropped) [with object]
mainly North American (of a tenant farmer) cultivate (farmland) giving a part of each crop as rent: one fifth of farmers sharecrop the land they till | (as noun sharecropping) : the lands were used for exploitative sharecropping.

sharecropping is an agricultural agreement by which a family lives on a land they do not own, in a house that doesn’t belong to them, at times for several generations. They work the land and each month they give half (or another share of the harvest) to the landowner in place of a rent.

Atlas

atlas | ˈatləs | noun
1. a book of maps or charts: I looked in the atlas to see where Naples was | a road atlas.
2. (also atlas vertebra) Anatomy the topmost vertebra of the backbone, articulating with the occipital bone of the skull.
3. (plural atlantes | atˈlantiːz |) Architecture a stone carving of a male figure, used as a column to support the entablature of a Greek or Greek-style building.
ORIGIN late 16th century (originally denoting a person who supported a great burden): via Latin from Greek Atlas, the Titan of Greek mythology who supported the heavens and whose picture appeared at the front of early atlases.
Atlas | ˈatləs | Greek Mythology one of the Titans, who was punished for his part in their revolt against Zeus by being made to support the heavens. He became identified with the Atlas Mountains.

We make atlases because we feel lost. This being lost feels to us like the greatest burden. We believe we must bear it alone.

In truth, we feel lost precisely because we feel alone. We don’t know the path and we do not trust our feet like they had thoughts, or our hands like they could make home.

How to learn that which is unseen and unheard? How to hold the knowledge that is being passed on to us, if we don’t know how it looks like or where it came from?

While preparing this installation, my mother tells me about ‘the art of the hands’. This ability to make things with my hands, which I did not know I had, I have inherited from her; but without passage. For a long time, it slipped into a crack between us.

Now it resurfaces, years later.

How to share the feeling of things that are done through the art of the hands?

The original post:

During a visit to my grandmother and great uncle’s tombs, my great aunt Maria instructs me: we must know how to love. My mother answers her in Abruzzese dialect: ‘E dà mó che la capit kess’ / E’ da tanto che lo ha capito (IT) / She has known it a long time (ENG).

To know how to love, I believe we must listen. To listen, we must face someone who can speak.
How to make others feel like they can speak to me?

The Magical Atlas of Italian Sharecropping is an experiment in crafting instruments for the intergenerational sharing of knowledge and memory. Meaning: for active listening. Through its textures and symbols, it encourages multiple generations to tune into ancient rhythms and myths tied to the cultivation of land, serving as a map for both active wanderings and multimedia listenings.

By clicking on one of the designs, you will be redirected to a page with additional information and an English translation of the circles.

Complimenti

The activation ‘Complimenti’, taking place in de Appel (Amsterdam, NL) between 18h and 20h on June 9th is such an attempt.

Standing in the The Magical Atlas of Italian Sharecropping my mother and I hand out seven hundred cookies made over the past week in order to celebrate the evening.

Following a costume that celebrates important rites of passage in Abruzzo, we invite guests to our table, asking them to accept our gifts.

Sharing stories together, visitors are welcomed into Abruzzese culture and the world of its kitchens.

The inspiration for this activation is owed to Ms Annina from Casabordino, whose work I found on a Facebook group for people from Abruzzo living in other Italian cities or abroad.

For the 50th marriage anniversary of the in-laws of her niece, Annina had prepared 35 kg of ‘complimenti’ or complimentary cookies. These assorted cookies, whose various recipes change according to the maker’s taste as well as the season, are usually given to guests in Abruzzo after a reception.

They come in golden trays known as ‘guantiere’ so that they may be offered and then easily packaged - it is in fact rare that after an Abruzzese reception guests may be able to eat dessert on the spot. The ‘guantiere’ are thus made as a take home gift from the party.

To celebrate the closing of our two years journey in the Artistic Research Masters’ programme at the University of Amsterdam, my mother and I have followed the steps of Ms Annina.

Our hope, with this ‘labour of love’ is to honor the tradition of complimenti in Abruzzo. It is this ability to remember and learn while we are baking that my mother means when she says ‘arte delle mani’ - the art of the hands.

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