ART

 No, not that Art – just art. We now have lots and lots of art on our walls and on our shelves. 90% of our art is travel related, with the other 10% being family photos or something related to the Beatles. If you've seen my house, you know what I mean.

We recently visited a winery that we'd never heard of – there are so many wineries in Umbria that there are always new ones to discover. We'd had a red wine while at a local festa back in September and it was really flavorful, so we decided to find the producers and see what they had to offer. As luck would have it the winery was just up the road from where we'd met friends for coffee, so after saying our goodbyes we headed out in search of wine.

La Cantina Cesarini Sartori is located just outside of Bastardo. Most of the wineries we know by name or recommendation are in and around Montefalco (famous for it's Sagrantino). We were excited to find a new place, and as we approached we could see that they had a great panoramic view of the hills – not unusual for Umbria, but always appreciated.

I took a few shots of the views, then we walked inside. People were having tastings, accompanied by food, and Daniele greeted us, tilting his head. “Have you been here before?” he asked. We reminded him that we'd talked during the wine festival in Montefalco just last week, and he nodded in agreement.

Because he was conducting a tasting for a group of four, we wandered around, looking the the wines and the various accessories they had for sale. And that's when I saw it. The wooden wine box! The words “I want that!” jumped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think. But I've learned from past experiences that when the object is right for me, the object will tell me, loud and clear, without hesitation.

And that's my point. While some pieces of art have practically screamed at me, others have been more subtle. Sometimes they're hidden under a big pile of prints, or tucked away in a tiny shop where you'd never expect to find a treasure. Sometimes they're merely a beautiful postcard (usually a print of a watercolor), other times they're original pieces. Mostly they're prints, but in every case each and every one has spoken to me in some form.

Now my walls are covered in pictures, paintings, postcards, prints and photographs. My shelves hold pictures and knickknacks, odd collections of this and that. As I walk by them I can tell you the story of each and every one. Some were bought while on vacation. Some are photos I took. Other pieces remind me of a special place. Sometimes I've been lucky enough to meet the artist. That's always a special thrill for me, to be able to tell the artist how much I love their work. Such would be the case for this wooden wine box, painted with a beautiful scene of an Umbrian vineyard.

I asked Daniele if the box was for sale, but he wasn't sure. The artist had left his card inside the box, so I took a picture of it, just in case. Daniele offered to call the artist for me, and I agreed. We exchanged numbers on WhatsApp. He later texted to tell me the price, and to say that he didn't know if the artist, Gianni Bagli, spoke English. Not wanting Daniele to have to play middleman, I bravely said I'd contact Sig. Bagli myself, confident that I could convey what I needed to, even if it meant using Google Translate. (I try to stumble along on my own, but my Italian is really bad, and I seem to be the exception, in that I can speak more Italian than I can understand. All those different verb conjugations! And throw in a few words of local dialect and I'm completely lost.)

I knew that Sig. Bagli lived in San Terenziano, a town not far from us, but he could be in the centro, which is tiny, or he could live down a long white road on the outskirts of town, known only to locals. I texted, hoping that my intent would be clear, if not correct. At least he knew something of me from Daniele's call, or so I hoped.

After a few texts I did resort to Google Translate, mainly to make sure that I was making myself clear, and that my translations of his responses were indeed correct. Translation apps can go horribly wrong sometimes! I asked if we could come to his studio, just for the opportunity to see his work, and we arranged a meeting for later that same day.

Sig. Bagli arrived just as we were parking, and as soon as Art stepped out of the car he knew we were the Americans who'd contacted him! He greeted us warmly and complimented me on my Italian! (Italians tend to do this, no matter how badly you speak it – I guess they just appreciate the effort) His shop was just a few steps inside the walls of the tiny old centro, and he told me his wife would arrive shortly, and that she spoke a little English. We both agreed that we were doing just fine so far, and I knew that once I saw his artwork all I would need to do was point, say “questa” (that) and quanto costa? (how much).

By now he wasn't Sig. Bagli, he was Gianni. And I was truly, truly impressed. His shop was filled with oil paintings and watercolors. Lots of Umbrian hillsides, vineyards and ancient villages, but also a great variety of other subjects – birds, elephants, flowers. As a wanna-be artist, my talent is minimal but my appreciation is maximum. I was glad I already knew what I wanted, because every time I turned around I saw something else I loved.

There were several wooden wine boxes already painted, but not the one I wanted. I wanted the one I had seen in the winery. With just that scene. I pulled up a photo on my camera to show him a picture of the box, and after a few questions, he said certainly I could buy that one! Wow – easy for both of us! We agreed upon a price, and Gianni said he'd pick it up from the winery and deliver it to us! And now every time I look at my (my!) winebox, I'll not only be reminded of Umbria, I'll also think of Daniele at the winery, and I'll remember meeting Gianni (and his wife Cristina). I'll remember how much I loved seeing his work, and how much he loved sharing it with us. I feel like I've made not just a memory, but also a friend. And that's what art is all about.