It is customary, after the feast of Holy Christmas, whether one is a believer or not, to go “from church to church” to admire the Nativity scenes on display. Each year, those who set out to recreate the setting of the Grotto of Bethlehem introduce new figurines. At times, as happens in San Gregorio Armeno, the new figures created by Neapolitan master craftsmen evoke contemporary socio-cultural realities. This practice is certainly not new. In this regard, it suffices to recall artistic iconography that renders past events contemporary by depicting figures current at the time the painting was made. This allows the event to be brought closer to the sensitivity of the observer, who feels like a co-protagonist because he too is present: he participates in that time, in that moment.

It also happens that Nativity scenes include figurines that evoke ancient trades and everyday situations. This is a life that may appear anonymous to us, yet it involves us because it recalls work essential to daily life. One recognizes oneself as heir to a past and, at the same time, discovers ancient roots.

Thus, alongside the Magi and the shepherds, the scene comes alive with figures intent on their work. Work—indeed! Work, while in itself bearing witness to human skill, contributes to social life, to community, to collective existence. Each person commits his or her abilities to shaping the environment in which they live, in order to share it with others. Work becomes a sign of culture and civilization. At the same time, it attests to the dignity of the worker.

Which activity symbolizes, for Cremona, an art that characterizes it? The answer is immediate: lutherie.

In the Nativity scene of the church of Sant’Abbondio one can admire a figurine representing a luthier intent on crafting an instrument. The set recreates the “workshop.” In addition to the instruments displayed at the window—perhaps placed on the sill to allow the varnish to dry—the workbench is shown, on which two violin plates attest to the luthier’s activity. In the collective space where the scene of the Nativity comes to life, together with other figures engaged in their own tasks, at the moment of the birth of the Child the luthier interrupts his work to take part in the Event.

But who created the magic of a luthier in the Nativity scene?

The work is due to artists of the Neapolitan School: Alberto Borriello and his wife Maria Rosaria, assisted by some volunteers from the parish. Above all, mention must be made of the contribution of Giovanni Santangelo, a master maker of Nativity scenes, who was able to combine tradition with innovation. Without departing from Neapolitan art, he enlivened the Christmas atmosphere with a reference to our city. The creators of the Nativity scene drew upon his expertise. Giovanni Santangelo, father-in-law and father, identified Cremona through the symbol that defines it. The master craftsman skillfully introduced symbolic values through his aesthetic sensibility, contextualizing the luthier’s workshop within the scene of the Nativity. As is well known, Cremona bears its distinctive “mark” in lutherie. To place the luthier’s workshop in the Nativity scene in the church of Sant’Abbondio means knowing how to export the great Neapolitan tradition while giving it the role it deserves: preserving memory of itself and, while remaining contemporary with present reality, being contextual to the places where it is re-created. The design and realization of the Nativity scene in the Chapel of Saint Joseph in Sant’Abbondio testify to the skills, artistry, and ability to interpret the Nativity-scene culture of the Neapolitan School in dialogue with the reality of Cremona. This is a cultural sensitivity certainly sustained by Faith, but no less by an awareness of the value of lutherie in Cremona.

If it is possible to identify in Cremona a historical period corresponding to the beginnings of the lutherie tradition, it is equally well understood that the art of building stringed instruments is deeply rooted in the territory. The tradition draws on numerous humanistic and scientific studies, but above all on the presence of many workshops, and it responds to the needs of music, which in the instrument’s timbre finds the potential to become an aesthetic dimension (αἴσθησις, aísthesis).

Art, by its nature, is an expression of the artist’s imagination, and once the work is realized with appropriate technique, it assumes the form of a concrete image that offers itself to the imagination of the viewer. But for this to happen, it is necessary to activate “sensation,” which in the case of music appeals to the sense of hearing that receives sound. Once again, this bears witness to an identity that characterizes each instrument and contributes its own artistic qualities to music. Perception is always a unique and unrepeatable phenomenon which, while pertaining to the individual artist and/or viewer, possesses only two objective aspects. The first consists in the uniqueness of the work; in the specific case of the instrument, this uniqueness can be identified in its timbre and its physical form. The work is an entity and, as such, is an individual and identifiable reality. The second aspect is found in the attestation of the subjective recognition of being in the presence of a work of art. Aesthetic judgment is always subjective and manifests itself in the “singular recognition that occurs in consciousness” (C. Brandi, Theory of Restoration). The aesthetic value that each viewer recognizes in that artifact is thus affirmed. Aesthetic judgment is structurally a judgment that reflects and reports what is perceived by each of us. It possesses no other logical force; its cultural force is entrusted to history and criticism.

The Nativity scene thus created calls the people of Cremona to two existential values. On the one hand, it bears witness to the Event—the foundation of our Faith; on the other, it restores the cultural dimension of a city that owes its international fame to lutherie.

The photograph is by Carlo Bertozzi.