Italian Colors

Two rowhouses in the Bloomfield neighborhood of Pittsburgh: one green, one red

Green house, red house, white snow, Bloomfield

Even the most casual student of the classics will recognize the names of great Italian painters. Botticelli, Caravaggio, Verrocchio–the list goes on and on.  Their descendants made their way in droves to Pittsburgh, settling largely in Larimer, Bloomfield, South Oakland, and other parts of the city.  And they continued to paint.

The medium of choice is still oils (albeit exterior enamel) and they’ve simplified their color palette to the trinity of green, white, and red.  Boldly eschewing the staid canvas and gallery presentation, these artists work large and for the world to see: on cement walls and park benches, street lights and entire houses.

Garage wall in Italian red, green, and white

Garage (detail), Uptown

It’s curious to me that while Pittsburgh’s great expansion in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was famously from eastern and southern European immigrants, it seems that only the Italians felt the need to reproduce the flag over and over again.  Why don’t we see crude renderings of the white eagle on garages in Polish Hill and Lawrenceville?  Why no black, red, and gold telephone poles in Deutschtown?  We’ve got (people who identify as) Croats and Slovaks out the yin yang.  Who’s representing?

Street light pole in Italian colors

Street light pole, Bloomfield

Flower pot with red and white flowers and statue of Jesus

Jesus Planter, Bloomfield

While only a fraction of the population of those other neighborhoods, the tiny neighborhood-within-a-neighborhood of Panther Hollow has possibly more Italian colored things per capita than anywhere else.  There’s a bi-lingual war memorial with the flags of The United States, Italy, and Pittsburgh, an Italian-colored park bench and picnic table, the flag rendered graffiti-style on a retaining wall, and one abbreviated stretch of picket fence.

Park bench and picnic table in Italian colors

Park bench, picnic table, Panther Hollow

It was there, at the very end of Panther Hollow, that we had the great fortune to run into lifetime resident, local historian, and maintainer of the terrific pantherhollow.us website, Carlino Giampolo. “Everyone should have a fence to hide their garbage,” Carlino told us as explanation for the curious freestanding set of tri-colored fence at the edge of his property, the last plot in the Hollow as the dead-end Boundary Street trickles into Schenley Park bicycle trail.

Retaining wall with Italian flag

Retaining wall, Panther Hollow

Carlino went on to tell us about growing up in Panther Hollow, when what is now Pitt’s lower parking lot was a ball field, community park, and cow pasture.  When there were as many as six different operating businesses in the Hollow (today there are none, nor any obvious former retail spaces).  He showed us where the hotel once stood in what is now his side yard, the community oven that would cook the neighborhood’s bread, and how self-sufficient the whole place once was (and not that long ago)–butchering their own animals, making cheese and butter from the small herd of cows they kept, etc.

Picket fence in Italian colors

“Everyone should have a fence to hide their garbage”, Carlino’s fence, Panther Hollow

The Chewing Gum Graffiti of Bigelow Blvd.

Chewing gum graffiti reading "Matson"

“Matson”

The intrepid cityscape blogger walks everywhere, even if he or she is just getting started in this game.  There’s just no other way to have one’s ear to the ground without keeping his or her feet on the ground (or something like that).

The walk from Lawrenceville to Oakland usually passes through Bloomfield, by way of the Millvale Street Bridge, but on the alternate route up and over the Bloomfield Bridge one gets to pass through the long stretch of Bigelow Blvd. at the northwest corner of Oakland: Zarra’s Italian restaurant, some new hotel, and The Royal York apartments (former home of Lord and Lady Lagrosa).

Out in front of The Royal York stands an old stone wall, hip high, with a curious assortment of graffiti, executed in chewing gum.  I’ve been following these expressions for the last several years.

There are a couple really interesting things about this particular strain of graffiti.  For one, it’s a really slow burn: it plays out over weeks, one stretch of gum at a time, rather than the more immediate gratification of spray paint “bombers” who get in and get out (seemingly) without time.  Second, what is this (gender neutral) guy going after?  Matson?  Who the hell is Matson?

Chewing gum graffiti reading "Canandaigua"

“Canandaigua”

Canandaigua?  I can Google with the best of them, and that particular search term turns up a small town in the Finger Lakes region of New York state, not far from Rochester.  The assailant’s home turf?  It seems like a possibility.  I like my home town just fine, but you’ll struggle to find me spelling out “Blacksburg” along any public surfaces, let along in chewing gum.

Chewing gum graffiti reading "Go Bills"

“Go Bills”

Chewing gum graffiti reading "Go 'Cuse"

This would ultimately read “Go ‘Cuse”

Go Bills and Go ‘Cuse.  Finally something to work with.  Here, we’ve either got somebody who is crazy about the legislative process or a big fan of western New York state college/professional athletics.  Now, I can’t cotton to any version of the Buffalo Bills since their horrendous move to the red fielded, aerodynamic buffalo, but I empathize with their haven’t-been-good-since-the-Reagan years, astroturf-enduring fan base.  Hell, maybe they could go north and win a Grey Cup, like Baltimore.  If your team strategy is exporting missionaries to Steelers country with cases of Doublemint, hats off to you.

Buffalo Bills old logo

Vastly superior old Buffalo Bills “bison” image