Yesterday we spent most of the day in Lucca, mainly because we both had dental appointments. Apart from that, we walked around a little, did some shopping, managed a tasty oriental kebab, sorted out our telefonini and—since the weather was gloomy—decided it was the perfect moment to visit an exhibition at the Cavallerizza, (the former riding school), which has become one of Lucca’s main venues for art shows, rather like Palazzo Blu in Pisa or Palazzo Strozzi in Florence. The exhibitions there are usually original and fascinating, and this one certainly was.
This exhibition continues a thread that began with the Puccini posters a couple of years ago, linked to the world of the Belle Époque—the “beautiful times.” That period has been everywhere lately: the great show at Palazzo Blu, the Toulouse-Lautrec display at the Innocenti in Florence, and now this one in Lucca. This time the focus is on Giovanni Boldini, the Italian painter who perhaps sums up the Belle Époque better than anyone.
Boldini is, in a sense, the Italian equivalent of John Singer Sargent: master of swish, elegance, and dazzling portraiture, especially of women in extraordinary dresses. (Boldini knew Sargent and even painted a fine portrait of him). He was lucky to live at a time when women’s fashion was perfect for painting, lucky to meet so many beautiful women, and luckier still to have affairs with some of them. His paintings capture movement, life, and glamour through long, flowing brushstrokes, a sense of speed, and a nervous, brilliant energy.












But his work is not only about fashionable society. Of course there is high life, elegance, and display, but there are also intimate portraits of young women, quiet scenes in orchards and gardens, and tender, almost enchanting countryside views, even if these are fewer. At times he moves close to Impressionism. He was influenced by the Macchiaioli, the Italian Impressionists, but only as part of his range. He could use their techniques when he wished, yet above all he remained himself: the swish, the flow, the long strokes, the elegance.







Sadly, Boldini’s eyesight deteriorated toward the end of his life. He died in the 1930s at almost ninety. After the First World War he painted very little, and in a way that suited him. I don’t think he ever really felt at home with the new fashions of the 1920s—the flappers, the short dresses, the sharp lines. There are one or two portraits with those dreadful cloche hats, but they are not what we remember him for. His true world was the Belle Époque.
We were really glad we went to this exhibition which also displayed several paintings of his contemporaries placing his own uniqueness into perspective. It was far more impressive than we expected, and we fell in love with many of the paintings. I was completely struck by one in particular—a woman just after her bath. The beauty of her body, the form, the softness… it was deeply sensual. Yes, it is sexual, but sexual with elegance and culture, not the crude vulgarity that passes for sexuality today. This was refined, sophisticated, and deeply human.

It is a wonderful exhibition, and I would recommend it to everyone. It is beautifully done and truly memorable—a perfect escape from all the gloomy things that surround us: the news, the weather, the economy, everything. It lets you plunge into the Belle Époque, even while knowing that that period itself had many problems—disease, hypocrisy, poverty, moral contradictions—most of which are not shown here.



And perhaps that is why Boldini was so loved. He gave people a way out. He gave life, movement, and elegance. He glorified women, made them radiant, modern, and beautiful. And if beauty is truth, then perhaps truth is beauty too.
































































