Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Edgardo Franzosini

artworks anymore, whether paintings or sculpture, smal l or large. Not even in the colored terracotta statuettes that used to sel l so wel l unti l last year. And even less in animal sculptures. Want to hear a story? The other week I needed a new pair of cl ippers to prune the plants in my garden, so I went to La Samaritaine department store. And who should I f ind amid the watering cans and rakes in the garden section? A man who looked l ike Pompon. François Pompon, the animal sculptor.” “I l ike Pompon,” said Bugatti , “he’s talented and brave. I ’ve heard that he has himsel f locked inside the aviary with the birds he uses as models, not worrying that he might catch an infection from their feathers and droppings.” “ That ’s him,” continued Hébrard, “wel l there he was, Pompon, behind the counter, stacking up bags of ferti l izer. At f irst I thought it couldn’t be François, but rather his twin, Hector, whom I don’t know, but whom I ’ve heard mentioned. I didn’t know that Hector had died six years ago. It ’s me, said Pompon, I don’t have any more commissions. Before I used to make a l iving carving out blocks of marble for other sculptors. Now there’s no more work. My wi fe is sick and it ’s hard to f ind anyone who wants to give a job to a man with white hair. And so, when this position opened up, I accepted immediately. The salary is good. Can you bel ieve it?” concluded Hébrard, eating a piece of cake. “ This is the situation.”

IN MILAN BUGATTI surrendered to the void, to ennui . There was no zoo in the city, only a few cages here and there in the Giardini Pubbl ici on Corso Venezia, with

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