Gone but not forgotten
Accepting a newcomer on the local scene and then eagerly following his progress was of great satisfaction to Emmanuel Fiorentino; he went beyond the call of duty as a critic. For him art was always an intimate affair, discovers Astrid Vella as she discusses the man who throughout his career touched many artists' lives.
I have to start this article by confessing that I have always questioned the validity of a collective art exhibition commemorating somebody, however, having read the outpouring of the many artists whose lives Emmanuel Fiorentino touched, I now realise that the exhibition presently on show at the Gallery Last Touch in Mosta is more than warranted.
I shall not go into Mr Fiorentino's qualifications and many achievements as those have been well-covered elsewhere. I fervently believe that a person's achievements are not to be assessed in terms of degrees and titles, but in the living legacy left to those with whom they came into contact. In that sense, Lino, as he was known, has built himself a monument worthy of the best.
Vince Caruana, the young Gozitan artist, puts it in a nutshell when he says "He immediately struck me as a man who was the most engaged and patient looker at art that I ever knew. With his pleasant character, Fiorentino became more of a friend than the popular and regular art critic."
Young artists are particularly vulnerable at the start of their career, when support is not always forthcoming. Lino could easily have remained aloof, but Cedric Galea Pirotta assures us that "accepting a newcomer on the local scene and then eagerly following his progress was of great satisfaction to Lino". Many of today's prominent artists were set on the path of success by Lino's gentle hand. "His very favourable comments helped me to realise that I actually had a potential with my art. It was this very situation that made me decide to take up my art more seriously which eventually opened up the way to a successful career," says John Martin Borg.
Albert Caruana's experience was more fraught, but shows that, far from pigeon-holing or writing off artists, Lino was always not only ready to keep an open mind about any artist but was also generous of heart: "Since taking up painting in watercolour I have rarely ventured into any other form of art apart from landscape painting and quite naturally my first solo exhibition in 1990 consisted entirely of Maltese and Gozitan views. Mr Fiorentino was at the time strongly advocating more abstract art, and it being, as well, the first exhibition of a relative unknown, it did not go down too well with him.
"To aggravate matters a month or so before I had made a monumental gaffe by remarking in Mr Fiorentino's presence at an exhibition of very 'abstract' art, that the only good things there were the cheesecakes, only to discover later to my horror that he had organised the show! Subsequently my technique "rose above the prosaic" and his attitude towards my preferred subject matter mellowed and we became firm friends."
Valerio Schembri's recollections place Mr Fiorentino as a man for whom art was a joy if not a religion; a joy that during his lifetime he bound to himself even with personal sacrifices including his ill health of late. This is borne out by Saviour Baldacchino whose account of Lino's support is touching in more ways than one: "I remember that after I told him that I was self-taught he didn't say a word until we arrived at the gallery. There for the first time, he saw my paintings which he liked so much that he even called me an artist. He didn't expect this much from a young self-taught artist. He stated that he wished he could live long enough to see what I could produce later on in life. On the opening night, he was unusually very late and that worried me a lot. After a while I saw him approaching very slowly holding to the wall. He was in a terrible state of health and looked very pale and weak but didn't fail to keep his promise and launch my exhibition which he did to great effect. He was so weak on that day that he almost fainted on the chair. Nevertheless, he wrote an impeccable review that appeared the following Sunday."
It is therefore no exaggeration when David Xuereb says "Mr Fiorentino, was a man who literally loved both art and artists in a heroic manner. Fiorentino was the surname synonomous to artistic-criticism. So many artists craved to have Fiorentino share his expertise by scrutinising their works of art and giving his esteemed opinion about them. My friend Emmanuel was a man of intergrity who did his utmost to encourage both art and artists on our island to continue to share their soul's experiences through art. I firmly hold that his love for art and artists was unconditional."
Eman Grima asserts that "Lino was one of Malta's major art critics, always generous in his analyses, but steadfast in his beliefs and views. His greatest loves were art and cats" as reflected in Debbie Caruana Dingli's painting of an elderly man feeding a colony of stray cats. Poor Victor Caruana suffered for this when, "on going to his house in preparation of my biography, one of his cats landed on my bare back (it was very hot in June 1998). I tried to get it off my shoulders and Lino was sorry at my pushing the cat so harshly off me. Later in the week Lino came up to me telling me angrily that I had 'killed' his pet which was not the case. Then during our encounters at other exhibitions he apologised for being so harsh with me."
Ġużeppi Theuma adds: "What struck me most with him was his gentle love for nature. I remember him on a wet Sunday morning, leaving the safety of the pavement while he staggered to the middle of the road to pick up a snail... so that it won't be run over... and gently putting it aside on a grassy hedge. I recall trying to console him for a whole morning as he sulked after seeing a cat dead by the wayside! As fellow members of the Żabbar Sanctuary Museum I remember when a ficus nitida tree which was causing damage to the pavement in the courtyard was condemned to be pulled down, by a majority decision. He objected strongly. I am glad that it still stands in his memory, albeit still causing damage."
Lino's compassion was not limited to the animal world, as Antoine Paul Camilleri relates. "He made it a point to go and see my father at St Vincent de Paul, even though he was not up to it. He suffered in silence." A further endearing picture of Lino's family life comes from Tonio Mallia: "Emmanuel was a humble and laid back personality happy to be tucked away with his books and cats in his unassuming Tarxien residence. He was very much attached to his brother Mario and his wife who lived just a few doors away. The last time I met Emmanuel was in fact with his brother and wife in a Rabat café. Emmanuel did not drive and his evening outings were often with Mario. Mario was really and truly the only family that he had, which reminds me of the Theo/Van Gogh relationship."
"Emmanuel had an infinitely deep understanding of art and had a knack of bringing out the soul of the paintings that he reviewed. His reviews were often not just about the paintings but also about the artist's personality." Thanks to this, generations of young artists have benefited from the deeper understanding of art that he imparted in his History of Art lectures, as Charles Balzan confirms: "I can still remember the passion with which he explained to us the mysticism of El Greco or the importance of Piero della Francesca." Saviour Baldacchino adds, "he dedicated a whole paragraph to explain the affinity of successful abstract pieces with religious art".
I myself was struck by the humility of the man who was open to criticism himself; taking on board the comment that his pieces had a tendency to be verbose, Lino immediately adapted his style even though it had served him well the length of a long and successful career.
Although he appeared serious, Lino had a mischievous sense of humour, turning up to review our Christmas environment art exhibition dressed from head to toe in elfin green, while Eman Grima relates how, on opening his exhibition, Lino highlighted what he sought in life: the ability to strike a balance. Something that eluded him due to health problems with his legs!
Still, the overriding impression is one of a sense of duty to the world of art, as his good friend Ġużeppi Theuma writes: "He hardly refused to review an exhibition when asked nicely and sometimes he worked very late trying to catch up with the increasing number of emerging artists, needing his support. He complained to me about it but was incapable of saying no to anybody. He did not want to change to a faster, computerised, working system, because it removed the romance of composition and his personality from the script. We worked together and even when we started off as hard opposites, we reached an acceptable compromise, usually, his way!"
Having read these verbal tributes to Mr Fiorentino, it becomes clear that no art lover can appreciate the full scope of Lino's contribution to the local art scene without visiting the exhibition put up by those whose art he nurtured. Going over to soak it in would be the highest tribute to Mr Fiorentino, as evidenced by Damian Ebejer's reminiscence "we sat together, admiring and commenting on the various artists on display when he told me, almost in a whisper, 'I could spend a day just sitting here, it's...' and after a few seconds looking for the right words, '...it's so intimate' he concluded. And that was him. For him art was an intimate affair, always."
• The Man and the Critic, a homage to Emmanuel Fiorentino, is at Gallery Last Touch, Main Street, Mosta.
I shall not go into Mr Fiorentino's qualifications and many achievements as those have been well-covered elsewhere. I fervently believe that a person's achievements are not to be assessed in terms of degrees and titles, but in the living legacy left to those with whom they came into contact. In that sense, Lino, as he was known, has built himself a monument worthy of the best.
Vince Caruana, the young Gozitan artist, puts it in a nutshell when he says "He immediately struck me as a man who was the most engaged and patient looker at art that I ever knew. With his pleasant character, Fiorentino became more of a friend than the popular and regular art critic."
Young artists are particularly vulnerable at the start of their career, when support is not always forthcoming. Lino could easily have remained aloof, but Cedric Galea Pirotta assures us that "accepting a newcomer on the local scene and then eagerly following his progress was of great satisfaction to Lino". Many of today's prominent artists were set on the path of success by Lino's gentle hand. "His very favourable comments helped me to realise that I actually had a potential with my art. It was this very situation that made me decide to take up my art more seriously which eventually opened up the way to a successful career," says John Martin Borg.
Albert Caruana's experience was more fraught, but shows that, far from pigeon-holing or writing off artists, Lino was always not only ready to keep an open mind about any artist but was also generous of heart: "Since taking up painting in watercolour I have rarely ventured into any other form of art apart from landscape painting and quite naturally my first solo exhibition in 1990 consisted entirely of Maltese and Gozitan views. Mr Fiorentino was at the time strongly advocating more abstract art, and it being, as well, the first exhibition of a relative unknown, it did not go down too well with him.
"To aggravate matters a month or so before I had made a monumental gaffe by remarking in Mr Fiorentino's presence at an exhibition of very 'abstract' art, that the only good things there were the cheesecakes, only to discover later to my horror that he had organised the show! Subsequently my technique "rose above the prosaic" and his attitude towards my preferred subject matter mellowed and we became firm friends."
Valerio Schembri's recollections place Mr Fiorentino as a man for whom art was a joy if not a religion; a joy that during his lifetime he bound to himself even with personal sacrifices including his ill health of late. This is borne out by Saviour Baldacchino whose account of Lino's support is touching in more ways than one: "I remember that after I told him that I was self-taught he didn't say a word until we arrived at the gallery. There for the first time, he saw my paintings which he liked so much that he even called me an artist. He didn't expect this much from a young self-taught artist. He stated that he wished he could live long enough to see what I could produce later on in life. On the opening night, he was unusually very late and that worried me a lot. After a while I saw him approaching very slowly holding to the wall. He was in a terrible state of health and looked very pale and weak but didn't fail to keep his promise and launch my exhibition which he did to great effect. He was so weak on that day that he almost fainted on the chair. Nevertheless, he wrote an impeccable review that appeared the following Sunday."
It is therefore no exaggeration when David Xuereb says "Mr Fiorentino, was a man who literally loved both art and artists in a heroic manner. Fiorentino was the surname synonomous to artistic-criticism. So many artists craved to have Fiorentino share his expertise by scrutinising their works of art and giving his esteemed opinion about them. My friend Emmanuel was a man of intergrity who did his utmost to encourage both art and artists on our island to continue to share their soul's experiences through art. I firmly hold that his love for art and artists was unconditional."
Eman Grima asserts that "Lino was one of Malta's major art critics, always generous in his analyses, but steadfast in his beliefs and views. His greatest loves were art and cats" as reflected in Debbie Caruana Dingli's painting of an elderly man feeding a colony of stray cats. Poor Victor Caruana suffered for this when, "on going to his house in preparation of my biography, one of his cats landed on my bare back (it was very hot in June 1998). I tried to get it off my shoulders and Lino was sorry at my pushing the cat so harshly off me. Later in the week Lino came up to me telling me angrily that I had 'killed' his pet which was not the case. Then during our encounters at other exhibitions he apologised for being so harsh with me."
Ġużeppi Theuma adds: "What struck me most with him was his gentle love for nature. I remember him on a wet Sunday morning, leaving the safety of the pavement while he staggered to the middle of the road to pick up a snail... so that it won't be run over... and gently putting it aside on a grassy hedge. I recall trying to console him for a whole morning as he sulked after seeing a cat dead by the wayside! As fellow members of the Żabbar Sanctuary Museum I remember when a ficus nitida tree which was causing damage to the pavement in the courtyard was condemned to be pulled down, by a majority decision. He objected strongly. I am glad that it still stands in his memory, albeit still causing damage."
Lino's compassion was not limited to the animal world, as Antoine Paul Camilleri relates. "He made it a point to go and see my father at St Vincent de Paul, even though he was not up to it. He suffered in silence." A further endearing picture of Lino's family life comes from Tonio Mallia: "Emmanuel was a humble and laid back personality happy to be tucked away with his books and cats in his unassuming Tarxien residence. He was very much attached to his brother Mario and his wife who lived just a few doors away. The last time I met Emmanuel was in fact with his brother and wife in a Rabat café. Emmanuel did not drive and his evening outings were often with Mario. Mario was really and truly the only family that he had, which reminds me of the Theo/Van Gogh relationship."
"Emmanuel had an infinitely deep understanding of art and had a knack of bringing out the soul of the paintings that he reviewed. His reviews were often not just about the paintings but also about the artist's personality." Thanks to this, generations of young artists have benefited from the deeper understanding of art that he imparted in his History of Art lectures, as Charles Balzan confirms: "I can still remember the passion with which he explained to us the mysticism of El Greco or the importance of Piero della Francesca." Saviour Baldacchino adds, "he dedicated a whole paragraph to explain the affinity of successful abstract pieces with religious art".
I myself was struck by the humility of the man who was open to criticism himself; taking on board the comment that his pieces had a tendency to be verbose, Lino immediately adapted his style even though it had served him well the length of a long and successful career.
Although he appeared serious, Lino had a mischievous sense of humour, turning up to review our Christmas environment art exhibition dressed from head to toe in elfin green, while Eman Grima relates how, on opening his exhibition, Lino highlighted what he sought in life: the ability to strike a balance. Something that eluded him due to health problems with his legs!
Still, the overriding impression is one of a sense of duty to the world of art, as his good friend Ġużeppi Theuma writes: "He hardly refused to review an exhibition when asked nicely and sometimes he worked very late trying to catch up with the increasing number of emerging artists, needing his support. He complained to me about it but was incapable of saying no to anybody. He did not want to change to a faster, computerised, working system, because it removed the romance of composition and his personality from the script. We worked together and even when we started off as hard opposites, we reached an acceptable compromise, usually, his way!"
Having read these verbal tributes to Mr Fiorentino, it becomes clear that no art lover can appreciate the full scope of Lino's contribution to the local art scene without visiting the exhibition put up by those whose art he nurtured. Going over to soak it in would be the highest tribute to Mr Fiorentino, as evidenced by Damian Ebejer's reminiscence "we sat together, admiring and commenting on the various artists on display when he told me, almost in a whisper, 'I could spend a day just sitting here, it's...' and after a few seconds looking for the right words, '...it's so intimate' he concluded. And that was him. For him art was an intimate affair, always."
• The Man and the Critic, a homage to Emmanuel Fiorentino, is at Gallery Last Touch, Main Street, Mosta.