Trusted and Highly Creative Repositories

From the Mona Lisa to the Venus de Milo, from the Crown Jewels to the Geneva Convention, it is hard to find a masterpiece of art, an original manuscript or a precious object that has not been put on display in a case made by the Goppion, a Milanese family of Veneto origin with a unique talent

FROM HERE THE VIEW MIGHT APPEAR INCOMPREHENSIBLE. Alessandro Goppion is taking me on a tour of the new offices of the company that bears his name. Housed in a space that has been added to the front of the existing factory. “I’m going to extend the bays that give onto the courtyard at the rear,” he tells me. “We have so much work that there’s no longer enough space for production.” He shows me the plateglass partitions, the furniture built into the walls, the finishes of the floors. And, as I was saying, the enormous expanse of glass on the first floor that faces onto a scene that can hardly be said to be pleasant. An incomprehensible view. Goppion S.p.A. is, as they say in these cases, a centre of excellence. Carrying with me that ill-concealed and somewhat childish pride typical of us Italians, there is no museum anywhere in the world where I have not come across a work of art, an archaeological find, a material document from our country. It does not seem possible for a museum to exist without an Italian work in it. What I had not realized is that in Chicago, in Paris, in Tokyo, wherever I have been, in whatever museum I’ve admired the way in which a work has been presented and conserved, in the majority of cases, if not all, the display system was made by Goppion.

There is no icon of world art that has not been put on show and protected by Goppion: the Venus de Milo, the Mona Lisa, the Vitruvian Man, the Gates of Paradise. The incredible Ardabil showcase at the Victoria & Albert Museum: sixty square metres that can be raised above the ground, the biggest display case in the world was planned, designed, prototyped and put into production here, at Trezzano sul Naviglio. And then, as if that were not enough, it is here on the outskirts of Milan that the system of disassembly, transport and installation of each display case is developed. Each work of art secured, each exhibit put on show, each artefact conserved receives careful study and a unique, customized solution.

These are showcases that are technologically innovative, complex pieces of machinery capable of controlling relative humidity, temperature and the quality of the air. These dampen the vibrations produced by visitors or protect their contents from fire or earthquake. There are also almost worthy of admiration in themselves, if it were not for the fact that all they are trying to do, continually, is disappear. They aim to serve the needs of the exhibit, not overshadow it.

It was in March 1952 that Nino Goppion, Alessandro’s father, founded the company that bears his name. It was set up to make display systems. Nino, who had come to Milan from the Veneto, had found a bustling, hectic, innovative city that did not want

IT WAS IN MARCH 1952 THAT NINO GOPPION FOUNDED THE COMPANY

EACH ARTEFACT CONSERVED RECEIVES A CUSTOMIZED SOLUTION

just to produce things, but to show them off, to put its products on display. Nino conceived a system of showcases that immediately found favour with Ferrero, which ordered tens of thousands of them for the presentation of its confectionery in shops around Italy. From there Nino moved on to the production of complete installations for pharmacies, jewellers, etc. In short, Goppion was turning into a company of exhibit design, perhaps without even realizing it. In the same unwitting fashion it made the showcases for the Civic Museum of Ancient Musical Instruments in Milan. This was in 1956, and for the first time the display cases of a museum had been designed and produced ad hoc. But it was Alessandro, when he joined the company in the 1970s, who grasped the enormous potential of a production aimed at display systems for museums. What this would take was a combination of refined design with historical, artistic and museological expertise and advanced technology. It was quite a challenge. And one that was met. Today the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Geneva Convention and the Leicester Codex are all protected by Goppion showcases. Alessandro tells me about the undertaking that he is bringing to a close in these days: the largest sheet of glass in Italy, used to conserve Raphael’s cartoons in the Biblioteca Ambrosiana. They have also had to find a way of getting it into the historic premises of the museum, as there was no opening big enough for it to pass through. Certainly there’s no lack of work in Italy, I say to him. He smiles. “To tell the truth 95 per cent of our work is done abroad. At the most we have two competitors in the world that have developed such advanced technology.” And he talks

THERE ARE ONLY TWO COMPETITORS IN THE WORLD THAT HAVE DEVELOPED SUCH ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY

to me about the commission for the National Museum in Oslo, won after a procedure, called “competitive dialogue,” that lasted a year, in which the three global rivals presented their most advanced solutions so that the authorities could decide which to choose. The winner, obviously, will be Goppion.

“Here we do the impossible,” he tells me. Indeed, I’ve seen them at work: they use mechanical devices designed on the computer, then laser cut and assembled by hand without a single weld. “We are the Comacine masters of mechanics,” he adds with a smile. And finally I understand the sense of this apparently incomprehensible view: what you can admire from here is the scenery of work. A place where within the radius of less than a kilometre it is possible to find woodworkers, mechanics, ironmongers and other artisans with an extraordinary wealth of experience. The sheds that are visible from this point are like a triumph of the intelligence of hands, of those who really know how to make things. And so Goppion has earned the trust of the world. “If you want a precise date,” he says, “it was when we made the display cases for the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom.” This was in 1992. It was not just a question of putting

them on show in the Tower of London. What was needed above all was to ensure that these symbols of the monarchy would be protected against theft, or worse still, terrorist attacks. The country’s domestic security agency, the famous MI5, had Goppion make prototypes of the showcases. It then tried to break into them, take them apart, even bomb them. Nothing worked. “They are still there,” Alessandro tells me, with undisguised pride. “After a quarter of a century of honourable service.” What have been lost though are the earliest showcases produced by Nino, the ones made for jewellers or for the musical instruments of the Civic Museum. A piece of the history of design that has vanished. “Not completely,” he says, as if letting me in on a secret. And he tells me about the time he went to Cucchi’s, the historic Milanese pasticceria, and while drinking a coffee his attention was caught by a showcase at the back of the room. “I had recognized it from a distance. It was a product display case made by my father.” It was a sort of family epiphany. A small private miracle. I find the story, I must admit, moving. It is getting late, I have to go. I arrange to meet Alessandro for a coffee. At Cucchi’s. ○