February 7th 2025 - Antonio Ligabue

Yesterday, I watched the film “Volevo nascondermi” about the life of Antonio Ligabue. I am familiar with this artist, but (mea culpa) I have never attended one of his exhibitions and only had a rough understanding of his biography. Elio Germano's performance struck me and ignited my desire to better understand the life of the Swiss painter.

The film portrays the great suffering experienced by Antonio and his struggle with mental illness, which led people to always see him as different and thus dangerous. He was born in 1899 in Switzerland to Italian parents and, as a child, was adopted by a German-speaking Swiss couple. His adoptive parents were poor and constantly forced to move in search of work.

Antonio suffered from rickets and goiter, two ailments that profoundly affected his body and psyche. He had a difficult temperament and was expelled from numerous schools. In 1919, in the throes of a nervous breakdown, he attacked his adoptive mother, who reported him. He was sentenced to exile and taken to his father's homeland, Gualtieri, in the province of Reggio Emilia.

There, Antonio Ligabue lived for a long time as an outcast, surviving on charity and odd jobs. His physical appearance frightened many, and he was seen as a repugnant man. During this time, Ligabue began to paint, finding in art a temporary relief from his pain.

Ligabue spent a lot of time on the banks of the Po River, becoming part of the nature that was his favorite subject. The intensity of his paintings is extreme; I observe them and feel as though I am projected within them. I become a spectator inside the painted scene, which, to my eyes, is real and tangible. The colors are vivid and linger long in my memory.

His sculptures capture the essence of animal movements. One of his works, depicting a lynx attacking a cat, conveys the ferocity of the attacker and the resignation of the victim, who awaits the blow that will end the struggle. Like in the sculptures of other great artists, I think of Michelangelo, I expect that at any moment the muscles of the animals will come to life, and the fight will continue until its inexorable end.

The spirit of Antonio Ligabue transcended the boundaries of human reason. For this reason, I do not understand why he is often labeled as a naïf artist: there is nothing naive about him. Ligabue did not need to conform to the language of those around him; his understanding of the facts of life was far superior to the sentiments of his time. The complexity of his works stands as an everlasting testament to this.