A SECLUDED SANCTUARY TOBE LIVEDIN AND ENJOYED
Italian garden of delights is a portrait of its artist owner
Aweek ago today, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon and I am standing in the secret garden of Antonio Saliola. Not entirely secret, to be fair to Signore Saliola, for the celebrated Italian artist makes no bones about the fact that his art is interlinked with his garden, that one is very much inspired by the other.
But if trying to actually find the place in the small village of Petrella Guidi is anything to go by, then, as secrets go, this lovely garden certainly keeps itself to itself. We stroll through the village, all stone houses and higgledy-piggeldy layout. Down we go to one level, across a stretch of grass, and then down again, this time walking on old stone steps that once again give way to grass, underlaid with cobbles. We stroll past Sunday-quiet houses, the odd cat crossing our path, a church bell tolling in the distance.
I am in a part of Italy that I have never visited before – the lush, green Montefeltro area that straddles Emilia-Romagna and the Marche, lies two hours south of Bologna, infiltrates the independent republic of San Marino, and stretches to the coast at Rimini.
It is a beautiful landscape, a bit reminiscent of home in places, but set apart by the profusion of hilltop villages and towns that incessantly catch the eye, the craggy cliffs stretching towards the heavens, houses and fortresses perched on top, seemingly defying gravity.
I love visiting gardens when I am abroad and all the better if it is a garden that is somehow distinctive and not overrun with visitors. Antonio Saliola’s garden ticks both boxes.
He greets us himself at the gate. He could only be an artist. It’s there in the linen apparel, the buttoned-up waistcoat, the Panama hat. But it’s also there in the languid demeanour, the slow walk, the knowing smile, the ponderous responses, and in the quiet confidence of a man who, although now approaching 80, has the air of someone who has all the time in the world.
The garden is actually eight gardens – all small, all interlinked like ‘rooms’, which is precisely how Signore Saliola describes them.
The overall space is compact. Although arranged on two levels, you can see to the end of the garden from the entrance. It’s the intricacy of the layout and the specifics of each ‘room’ that make it so enchanting.
There is thunderstorm rain when we visit – and the moisture, when the rain clears, gives the garden a glow and a scent that is probably missing in the dry heat of high summer. Apart from the planting itself – the boxwood, the elderflower, the vegetables, and the roses that actually smell the way roses only smell in fairytales – there are, of course, a few quirky artistic features present. My favourite is the tall, narrow tree trunk in the corner of one of the small garden spaces. Antonio Saliola sidles up to it, turns to us with a smile and slowly opens its little door to reveal that it is, in fact, a lovely little book case. A small table and chair sit beside it. This garden is not just for looking at – it is to be lived in and enjoyed. We shelter from the rain in a ‘shed’ in a corner of the garden. Although shed is something of an insult, for here there are some of the artist’s paintings, a few shelves lined with bottles of wine, a comfy sofa along one wall. Not so much a shed as a sanctuary. A bit like the garden itself.