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Maniero Associazione Culturale
Via dell'Arancio 79, 00186 Roma
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Italy
Tel.++39 06 68807116
Fax++39 06 68807116
Hours: Tue.-Sat. 4pm-8pm and by appointment
Contact: Liliana Maniero
E-mail: maniero.l@libero.it
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Johannes Hüppi Bell'Italia
As far back as the days of the Grand Tour, foreign visitors to Italy, to the land that has for centuries been known as “il Bel Paese,” have recalled its art and its landscapes with the greatest of delight. But not only. After extensive, frenetic, and tasteless one day “all inclusive” tours around the Coliseums, the Gallerie Borghesi, the Pompeian Villas, and the Piazza San Marcos, who would not be captivated by the graceful movements of the waitresses in the restaurants where they have stopped to rest and restore their hot, exhausted bodies?
With their throats parched by the heat of the Città Eterna, with their feet swollen by endless Florentine streets, with their clothes dirtied by the droppings of Venetian pigeons, these tourists seek (and hope to find) an understanding look reflected in the eyes of the waitresses that serve them, a glimmer of affection, a faint erotic stirring to arouse their battered senses, dulled by the sight of too many historical buildings, by the voices of their guides, and by the smell of the coaches that transport them from the Alps down to Etna.
Thanks to the work (and the frequently dubious propositions) of three thousand years of history condensed into a few moments, the girls who wait on the tables of these restaurant become, in the minds of our tourists, nymphs from the cooling fountains of Arcadia, the goddesses who ask Paris to decide which of them is most beautiful, the Graces that follow in the train of Venus. The fantasies of those unhappy travelers can transform the simplest of smiles into a dream of flaming kisses, of deep intimacy, of absorbing passion, of lovers closely intertwined between the dark sheets of an Italian night.
Those dreams are similar to many of Johannes Hüppi’s paintings: lustful tongues entwine in the tightest of knots; insatiable women sit astride the bodies of men, sucking every last drop of energy from them. Waking them in their sleep, the women force the men to make love to them, to perform manifold, fantastical couplings on distant fields. They abuse them until they become nothing more than toys, footballs for their erotic games, on which afterwards they can sit triumphantly, having first cut off the heads of those foolish travelers, like cruel little Herodiases.
And so, if one should happen to meet a trio of Italian waitresses, be careful: they can be very dangerous. In less than an instant they can turn into merciless Maenads who dismember their victims, Harpies that render them blind, Sirens that lead you to madness, or cruel Judiths that amuse themselves by cutting off men’s heads.
The tourist who would like a sweet souvenir of Italy is warned: this is not only the country where lemons grow.
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Bell'Italia - Invitation
2001
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