The words I didn’t have (and didn’t need) when visiting this Italian Artist Studio
A visit to Officina Venti.21, where medieval craftsmanship, slow creativity, and human connection reminded me what making art, or perhaps reminded me what life, is really all about.
If you were to walk into an Artist’s studio today, you would expect to find, at the very least, tubes of store-bought paint. So you can imagine how shocking it would be to step into Roberta and Javier’s studio and instead find glass jars and huge buckets full of things from nature, from all over the world like a well-organized universal apothecary.
Their shelves are lined with brightly colored pigments, all perfectly labeled, in every color and shade imaginable from the color wheel. Containers of rocks, clay, bark, pits, herbs, crystals, and so much more are tucked away in every corner of their space. A bunsen burner sits over by the window. Bottles filled with brushes, a bowl filled with eggs, a potted plant and electric skillet sit on the counter- they have everything that we will need for me to paint with them… except for the paint.
When we arrived, we were greeted by not just them but also their cats, chickens, and pup. The studio is tucked away off to the side surrounded by flowers and herbs, fairly unassuming for the pure magic it holds inside. Their home, which also holds their shop full of antiques and handmade repurposed creations (we’ll get to later) towers over it all. And did I mention it was built in the 1700s? It’s hard to describe the awe I felt standing in front of a preserved piece of history (older than the entire country I live in, by the way) and it not being a part of a museum or protected land, but simply their home that we would later be graciously welcomed into. And believe me when I tell you- inside was its own living, breathing piece of Art, just like their studio I was about to enter.
The doors opened and immediately my eyes darted around, taking in every little detail, knowing there was far too much to take in with just one look around the room. I instantly felt connected to the space- it was nearly everything I love in one room. Nature. Art. Design. There were art supplies everywhere, works in progress, finished pieces on the wall, books upon books, and jars upon jars. There were old rustic wooden window shutters mixed with new, unique fixtures they had made, with a hand painted wall as the backdrop.
It sounds silly to say but I thought to myself, “This is what my studio could look like at home if I would just be willing to commit to what actually makes me feel alive.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love my creative space at home. I’ve filled it with decor that makes me smile, and I, too, have glass jars full of curiosities. But this space felt different. It had soul. It had proof of creativity everywhere. It housed the commitment they have to their creative path in life.
That’s what I’ve been missing. The commitment to my creative path. And that is exactly why, when I heard we would be working with Artsits in Italy who made paint the medieval way, using materials from nature, I knew I had to say yes to this opportunity and be around people that would inspire me to dig deeper with my own creativity, and my commitment to it.
As if we weren't already blown away just by stepping through the doors, then the hidden treasures started coming out. Handmade wooden cases were opening up like magic boxes, revealing specialty tools reminiscent of what was used during Leonardo daVinci’s time. Everything was so much more complex than one could understand just by looking at them. The brushes weren’t just brushes, they were made using real animal hair. The tools weren’t plastic, they were made of wood and ivory. The paints were crushed stone, burnt crystals, and boiled roots. Every time a new box came out, you couldn’t help but wonder what impressive thing was going to be inside- like poisonous pigments, paper coated in patina crystals from chemical reactions left to sit for days, sheets of real gold. There was so much to take in, and simply not enough time, but we did our best.
It was after all this that I had the gift of setting my camera down and becoming the student and “model” for the day for Ashlind (who I traveled there with and continue to have the opportunity to work alongside through our company- Videre) as she filmed. She was able to go deep into her passion of capturing these curated experiences for their socials and marketing as I melted into the process of making paint the medieval way.
When I was completely mesmerized by a scene unfolding in front of me I would quickly run for my camera, snap a shot, and then hop back to being in front of the camera. Because of this there were steps of the process I missed, but I suppose that just means you’ll have to visit them and learn for yourself- since they offer these classes!
We boiled herbs, crushed clay, separated egg yolks (from their own chickens of course), fired stones, and in the end we got paint. In a world where everything is cheap and fast, this was a rich and slow experience. It was the medicine for the every day pressure so many of us face of feeling like we must do more, now, in order to be happy and keep up.
Roberta and Javier are the antithesis to that life. They have chosen to celebrate the older ways that, I would like to point out, are, yes, slower, but they are not simpler, like so many of us like to romanticize. Nothing about this process was simpler than going to the store and buying a plastic tube of cheap yellow paint, but it was far more real, and it was far more connected. I think people often think the “olden days” were simpler simply because of the pace.
I am aware the days were long and hard, but at the same time, I think people respected the time it took to make something good, something meaningful, something that will last decades if not centuries. That’s what we have lost. Things like making paint the medieval way- you can’t rush how quickly the water will boil, or how fast the sediment will separate. It will happen when it’s ready to happen. You can’t guarantee success every time and you can’t force the elements to react how you want them to. There’s a sense of peace in the fact that so much is out of your control- the time, the results.
In a world that demands more, bigger, now, inside this studio was a full day of having enough, exactly as it was, when it decided to come.
Another thing I believe so many of us are missing in our lives is the ability and willingness to connect with people who are different from us. The concept of leaving home and traveling to a completely different continent where the language and culture is different can be incredibly intimidating to most. It’s normal to wonder- how will I communicate with people, how will I fit in, how will I survive in the unknown?
Ashlind and I, to our own deepest regret, have still not learned enough Italian to hold a conversation. Can we order a caffè, say grazie, tell you that it is perfetto, and that the location is bellissimo? Yes! Can we hold casual conversation? No (not yet!) Roberta and Javier had much better English than our lack of Italian, but still not enough to explain to us ALL the things they were showing us.
And here’s the beautiful part about being human- so many times we didn’t need to speak the same language. A hug and a smile are the same no matter what country you live in. Excitement and appreciation on someone’s face doesn’t need to be explained. Kindness is more than words, it’s actions.
Connection is something that happens between people when there’s the same energy in a room. You cannot fake it; you cannot force it. When words fail you and you cannot rely on a learned language, the most magical part of all is- you don’t have to. It’s felt.
To help fill in the gaps, we were also incredibly fortunate to have been accompanied by the fabulous owner of Unico Stay, Gessica, who not only curated this experience for us, and drove us there, but also stayed with us to help translate when we needed it. She really was the glue that not only brought us together but helped hold us together.
This day was so emotional for me. The very next day I would be turning 40. I was in Italy with one of my dearest friends. I was looking around at the trip I had nearly talked myself out of. I was painting with nature. We were welcomed by two of the kindest people I have ever met, with no way to say thank you like I would have liked to. The tears came and it was one of those special moments where you really recognize you’re alive, you are engulfed at how beautiful life is, and you’re reminded of the fabulous people in the world, all waiting for you when you open yourself up to it.
When we were done in the studio I had a painting I was able to bring back home with me, a piece I cherish that is propped up on an easel in my own art studio now, waiting to be completed. I don’t know how yet, but I know the story of that piece isn’t finished and there’s more work to be done. I’m certain the inspiration will hit me when the time is right.
But our day didn’t stop there.
Next, we entered their shop full of unique, antique finds and things they have made. Walking through those doors, awe flooded through me all over again, and it just grew as we walked up each step to the upstairs.
Thinking that was surely it, that we had taken enough of their time for the day, we quickly realized we still were not done. And I quickly realized my ability to be impressed with who they are, what they are capable of, and the size of their hearts was never-ending as well.
We entered their home, which felt like its own finely curated shop. Doors with no screens were wide open to their back patio where we saw, to our surprise, a full spread on the table along with wine and… was that a boar’s leg on the table?! Javier is from Spain, and although it may be incredibly common there, it is not common in America to see such a thing on your table! It was in this moment I knew- if my husband wasn’t already upset that I had left him at home to take on this trip, he was surely going to be livid to find out I had eaten freshly sliced meat right off the bone in the backyard of a 1700s Tuscan home, followed by dessert, followed by espresso.
Lastly, I want to end with this candid shot of us leaving… It isn’t professional, and it perfectly captures the authentic joy we felt when leaving there. These stories weren’t staged and they didn’t come from a perfectly planned script. What I want people to know most about my time in Italy is that the people there made the trip what it was, the people Gessica connected us with, carefully chosen as the best of the best, not just in skill and business, but in heart.
After this picture was taken, I put my sunglasses on, my eyes welled up, and we pulled away, and I told myself to keep it together until I could return.
Planning a trip to Italy? Be sure to reach out to Unico Stay to plan something just as memorable.
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