Yesterday was a driving day, tomorrow will be a driving day, so today we minimize our driving. We stick close to Ílvaho (pop. 38,598 in 2011) and enjoy the sites around the Ria de Aveiro. And we begin where we don't have to drive at all, just walk across the courtyard.
The Fábrica de Porcelana Vista Alegre fills the southwestern edge of Ílhavo, along the Rio Boco. The Museu Vista Alegre is the anchor of a wide-ranging re-use and renovation project, including the Montebelo Hotel, several lojas, the Capela, and outreach with workshops and educational programs. Vista Alegre is a model for a form of entrepreneurship involving both the industry and culture of a community and done to a high level. Consider the combination of the mud and clay, the sand, the power of the marshy river, pigments from the minerals and local plant life, and the transformational heat of an oven – the product is this place.
The Museu tour opens with two kilns, enormous brick cylinders above hidden fire chambers. The taller kiln near the bilheteria, is from the twentieth century, the other operated into the 1980's. The bricks are bound with buckles and iron straps, and surrounded by a series of vents and air-fuel traps that add the sensation of heat without the fire. Inside, the oven is glazed with the residual, crackled finish from its former occupants, lending it the sheen of a Portuguese capela.
The next room tells the story of the founding of the factory by José Ferreira Pinto Basto in 1824. The Founder is presented as a white marble bust on a pink marble stand, in front of an image of all the gathered workers (including a number of barefoot children!). That introduction is not necessarily making the right impression. This is reinforced by the sketchbooks of one of the factory artists, Victor Rousseau (1835), that depict the workers taunting the managers and trashing the merchandise. An unexpected commentary, but at least they're being honest.
The first products shown are basic, molded glass pieces from the 1820's, along with some early and unsuccessful ventures into porcelain; today, we call these 'de-constructed'. This is followed by a 'community' room that shown some of the tools and personal objects from the factory's early days. Included is a beautiful, early Leica camera, which seems to be part of the factory's history with experiments in photography. There are a few plates that show photo-like images and demonstrate an interest in the image-capture and transfer process.
Perhaps no other works demonstrate the high level of achievement at Vista Alegre than the commemorative plates made for the four hundredth anniversary of the death of Luís de Camões in 1980. The fine line work, the intense tonality, and the storytelling are all there. The gorgeous original artwork, by Lima de Freitas, is in the drawers below the cases. The image of the caped horse and crusading rider jumping the caravel at full sail perfectly encapsulates "Os Lusíadas":
As armas, e os barões assinalados,Que da Ocidental praya Lusitana,Por mares nunca de antes navegadosPassaram, ainda alem da Taprobana,Em perigos, e guerras esforçados,Mais do que prometia a força humana.E entre gente remota edificarãoNovo Reino, que tanto sublimarão(Luís de Camões, Canto 1º, de Os Lusíadas, 1572)The feats of Arms, and famed heroick Host,from occidental Lusitanian strand,who o'er the waters ne'er by seaman crost,fared beyond the Taprobane-land,forceful in perils and in battle-post,with more than promised force of mortal hand,and in the regions of a distant racerear'd a new throne so haught in Pride of Place.(trans Richard Francis Burton, 1879)
The next gallery focuses on heraldry, and a fascinating catalog of family crests, which are then rendered on plates, tiles, and other items.
The next few rooms feature Vista Alegre product lines. The first is 'lithophanes', which are thin, translucent porcelain plaques carved to mimic photography. Some of the pieces date to the late nineteenth century. Despite careful study, we could not determine if the liquid in the 'pot' set on top of the vessel would also fill the volume behind the images.
The next two rooms are filled with 'animalia', sculptures, figurines, and ceremonial ware, with plenty of variety and color for our eyes to enjoy.
The tour ends with the Vista Alegre 'mark', shown both on the underside of plates as well as on the wall. Adding some fun, the evolution includes variations with storks, who are now free to nest on the unused chimneys.
The last stop is the Oficina de Pintura. Downstairs, a screen loops a video of the work in progress, but upstairs, no photos allowed. The Oficina is a laboratory setting, and in many ways, we are reminded of our trip to Imari in 2008. A studio-like cleanliness and a collaborative silence are signs of serious and precise artistry.
Oh, how we wanted to ask questions and take pictures.
As with a proper museum, the destination is the gift shop. We don't linger, as we are drawn to the gardens just past the exit. In his "Viagem", Saramago disregards the Fábrica:
He descended the coast as far as Vagueira, going through Vagos en route to Vista Alegre. He has no wish to discuss the Fabric Museum, and has no more to say of it than that man’s handiwork unarguably deserves a different order of art, another invention, not the repetition or recondite researching of excessive decorative forms and solutions … (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
Not being Portuguese, and meaning no offense to Saramago, we cannot concur. However, we can forgive the "traveller" since his trip pre-dates this new museum. The craft, creativity, and dedication on display are remarkable – a "different order of art". We salute the people of Vista Alegre (with additional thanks to the staff at Montebelo for their perseverance in fixing my WiFi problem).
The Museu bilhete also allows entry to the Capela da Nossa Senhora da Penha de França (late seventeenth century). Penha de França refers to an apparition site in Spain from the fifteenth century. Saramago dismisses the Fábrica, but not the Capela:
… What proved most worth his while was the church of Our Lady of Penha, just next door, less for its tomb of Bishop Manuel de Moura, sculpted by Laprade, nor even for its giant Tree of Jesse which takes up the entire roof … (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
The Capela offers a wide range of visual treats. The blue-and-white tile murals are by Gabriel del Barco (Spanish) and date from 1694. They exhibit a vitality and even a sense of shade and depth not typical of other monotone murals – maybe less 'illustrative' and more 'painterly'. This is especially evident in the clouds behind the Crucifixion scene, or the city in the distance behind the Sagrada Familia.
The "Tree of Jesse", and the 'Assumption' over the Altar Mor, both also by del Barco, are excellent. And the sculpted tomb by Claude Laprade (French, dates from 1699), which extends to the niche over the portal of the Sacristía, is macabre and wonderful. We thoroughly enjoy the plentiful skeletons, roaring lions, crying angels, and the cherub in the corner cradling a skull.
del Marco's work continues in the Sacristía, and Saramago notes:
… but for the murals in its sacristy: Mary Magdalene bidding farewell to the vices and baubles of the world to take refuge like a true repentant, dishevelled and ugly, in a cave that not even an animal claimed as its own. Pachini turned her into a doll, while this other painter showed her a like lack of respect: thus is the world. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
The "Pachini" reference is of a portrait of Princesa Santa Joana com o Menino (the infant Jesus) in by João Baptista Pachim (eighteenth century. The portrait hangs in the Museu de Aveiro, the former Mosteiro de Jesus, where Santa Joana lived much of her life as a nun and where she was laid to rest. Saramago is suggesting a contrast between Mary Magdalene and Santa Joana, of a sacrifice of worldly comforts versus royal riches.
So is Saramago suggesting that's Santa Joana standing outside Mary Magdalene's cave? giving away coins from her velvet money bag? And what of the little girls with the basket and the dog, holding her head, wanting nothing to do with either life? For some reason, our eyes are drawn to her.
Amazing details abound – what is that fearsome creature at the feet of the figure in the chapel on the right? For an interior over there hundred years old, everything is fresh and vibrant, except perhaps for the image (Annunciation?) at the top of the entrance arch.
Taking a break from staring at ceilings, we drive a few minutes to the Costa Nova do Prado, to gaze at the striped beach houses and the wide lagoon.
Lower down over there is the Aveiro estuary, forty kilometres of coastline, twenty kilometres inland, firm ground and water encircling every shape an island could ever come in, or isthmuses, or peninsulas, every colour the river or the sea could ever command. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
The Canal de São Roque is the turnaround point for the barcos moliceiros. These are not gondolas, which specifically carry passengers and goods. These are working boats, which were sometimes fitted with sails (as seen in the mosaics of the calçadas) and originally used to harvest algae and seagrass from the lagoon. But these days, the traffic on the canals consists almost entirely of tourists, and the barcos moliceiros are motorized and painted to attract trade.
Lunch at Salpoente is very good. The staff all wear white jackets with "Vista Alegre" on the right; apparently they are investing in local businesses as well.
From the Canal de São Roque, we make our way past the tiny Capela Bartolomeu, to the center of town. The neighborhood around the Capela is full of small buildings along tight, long streets. It is quiet as we continue towards the hotels and restaurants of the tourist areas.
We turn at the Igreja de Nossa Senhora da Apresentação, and the city begins to unfold. We arrive at the Praça General Humberto Delgado and the Assembleia Municipal, which seems to float on the Canal do Côjo.
On the other side of the Praça General Humberto Delgado is the Praça da Republica, anchored on the south by the Câmara Municipal de Aveiro. To the east of the Câmara is the Igreja da Misericórdia de Aveiro (sixteenth century).
The calçadas of the Rua dos Combatentes da Grande Guerra end near the Casa de Santa Zita, and we are soon walking east on the Avenida Santa Joana. Ahead is the Sé de Aveiro (Igreja de São Domingos, fifteenth century).
The Sé is a mixed bag, due to its history of damage and reconstruction, but not without its charms. Uniquely, the chancel is set underneath an elliptical skylight, and before a large, dark, Baroque altarpiece (early eighteenth century). The chapels contain altars and parts of altars from every age; old meets older, and new meets newer.
The Museu de Aveiro / Santa Joana is in the former Mosteiro de Jesus. A woman sells the bilhetes and gives us a cool welcome. The museum path leads to the Túmulo da Princesa Santa Joana (Coro Baixo). The sign says that Santa Joana did not want an elaborate tomb, but during her beatification in the late seventeenth century, a new tomb was built by João Antunes. It is the furthest thing from not elaborate; it is over the top.
The Túmulo is in the Coro Baixo of the Igreja de Jesus, also far from not elaborate. The altar is particularly intense, with hardly a surface where the eye can rest except the Crucifix. The intersecting circles and gilt ribs in the ceiling vaults above the Capela Mor are dazzling.
We seek quiet in the Claustro and Refeitório (fifteenth and sixteenth centuries):
He saves a few words of description for the cloisters, looking feminine with their blue-and-white tiled benches where the nuns whiled away the afternoons, chatting about subjects sacred and profane, mingling confidences in with their praying … He considers the nuns as fortunate creatures, beneficiaries of all the beauty gathered on their walls and lining the corridors with Renaissance decorations. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
A singular creature (a cat? a bull?) is attached to the side of the Gothic stonework and suggests that the entire frame may have included a sculpted surround – removed at a time, perhaps, when such things were not in fashion, or maybe never finished.
The traveller is equally ignorant on the subject of what food was served up on the large kitchen tables, but he still retains an image of beauty in the tiles covering the refectory walls, its low wooden roof, and the impeccable proportions of the whole. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
We being to understand the reason for the less than warm welcome, as the Museu is closing soon. But wait, actually it's not; we still have forty minutes before the 18:00 closing time. In any case, the 'reminders' from the eager staff begin.
We find the Coro Alto, an extended linear space separated from the Igreja by a square-mesh grill. It connects to a considerable, octagonal room, with the capelas devocionais, the Capela de Nossa Senhora da Conceição (late seventeenth century), and a painting of O Êxtase de Santa Madalena (The Ecstasy of Saint Magdalene, no date given) in a dark corner next to the Capela.
This description from Saramago, just a 'tad wordy', contains an account so captivating, it explains why we are in search of its subject:
The traveller will simply make mention of the Christ crucified situated, if his memory doesn’t deceive him, in the gallery choir stalls, to the rear of the nave. It’s a strange figure, bald or apparently so. He isn’t even wearing a crown of thorns: perhaps it had come off. Surprise is only increased by the sight of his anatomy, which has nothing ugly about it: it’s not the body we’re used to for it has none of the emaciation usually accentuated by the collapse of the trunk and extremities of the body; nor is he a Rubensesque athlete; neither does he show the mortifications of punished flesh, for example so favoured by El Greco. He’s just a man, a poor man of medium height, whose frame knows nothing of classical proportions. His legs are short, his back must have borne heavy weights and his face is the most human the traveller has ever set his eyes on during his lengthy peregrination. Set up high, he lets his head drop and offers up his face. And from each of a half-dozen vantage points you can see a half-dozen different expressions, regardless of whether you do so gradually or brusquely and suddenly … the face becomes successively young, mature and aged, as though every aspect of him is reaching to achieve serenity, were such a thing possible. Who is this Christ whom no-one talks about? The guide tells us he seems to have been made in Burgos, by Arab converts to Christianity: this could explain the anatomy of someone of a different race, and exotic face. If the sculptor were mudéjar, he had evidently preferred to model Christ on his own body, rather than go out and look for models from another culture, which could only painfully be assimilated. This image of Christ, in the traveller’s eyes, expresses this anguish. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
Just off the octagonal hall with the capelas devocionais, is the Capela de Nossa Senhora do Rosário (seventeenth century, altar eighteenth century). Like the Claustro, it is an island of quiet in a lagoon of commotion, with white walls and a sprinkle of stars above the cornice. At the main altar is Nossa Senhora with her rosary and the Child. Opposite, the Child lays on tiny pillows, behind glass. The case seems to include reliquaries, but we cannot study them. An attendant appears to hustle us to the next room.
Now a pair of attendants trails behind. We enter the Sala de Lavor (Work Room), the room where Santa Joana spent her final days. The image of her passing looks surprisingly like the 'Êxtase', likely not a coincidence (that comparison again). Other images of the life of Santa Joana line the space. 'Lavor' refers to the embroidery and sewing of vestments that nuns used to perform here. Since Santa Joana's confinement and passing, the 'Sala' is now a chapel.
Guards chase us through the galleries, as we snap rapid shots. They are growing in number and, knowing the shortcuts, out-flanking us, though we still have twenty minutes. We find the Capela do Senhor dos Passos (eighteenth century), much like the Capela do Rosário, but no stars. The image of one last object remains, caught between glory and agony. At 17:50 we depart the Museu, with anxious obrigada's from the staff at the door, and still ten minutes before the timetable's closing hour.
Back outside, the late afternoon sky is trying to clear. We head for the Canal Central and the Ponte dos Botirões. The Jardim do Rossio is enclosed with a construction fence. The drivers of the moliceiros offer 'one last ride' before they tie-up for the night, but we decline. The facades along the Canal Central form a procession of pleasing patterns and textures, against the smooth water and the reflections of the brash, often obscene mascots on the prows of the bobbing barcos.
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