Birth of a Painter

When the Nazis occupied Rome in 1943, an elderly man slipped quietly into the city's artists' quarter and took over an empty studio. He wore the artist's standard beret and velvet jacket, filled his room with paints, brushes, canvas and easel. But the man was no artist. He was Guglielmo Emanuel, Rome correspondent of Milan's Corriere della Sera, and one of Italy's most renowned anti-fascist journalists. For years he had been in trouble with Mussolini's police; now with the Germans in power, they were looking for him again. Emanuel decided it was time for a disguise. So, at 64, the white-haired journalist took up a brush for the first time and began painting as if his life depended on it.

In Milan last week, courtly Guglielmo Emanuel celebrated his 74th birthday by holding his first art show. On the gallery walls were 49 delicately-colored scenes of Italy and Southern France that would have done a professional credit: airy, back-lighted town vistas, views of Venice and the Riviera, mountain terraces dipping into lush valleys, richly colored flower markets flooded with sunlight. The critics cheered Emanuel's taste, finesse and remarkable craftsmanship. Said one: "He really has the painter's eye."

Serious art was the farthest thing from Emanuel's mind when he took up the brush in 1943. At first, he toyed with the idea of merely smearing abstract designs on the canvas. "I said to myself, 'the police don't understand anything about art, and it won't matter if I just paint stripes or circles.' " But he found himself copying a crystal candlestick and a blue porcelain vase which he saw in his studio. "Much to my surprise," he says, "something decent actually turned up." Emanuel grew a husky white beard to complete his disguise, and painted away delightedly.

After war's end, Emanuel, still safe & sound, shaved off his beard and went back to the Corriere della Sera, later became its editor. But he went on painting--on Sundays. After he retired as editor last year, he took up art full time. Working in a small study, he put whatever impressed him on canvas--as rapidly as possible to catch his first feeling for the subject. After two hours, he would put the picture away. "In a few days," he says, "if I felt the same emotion I had while I was painting, then I would know I had succeeded."

Last week's show proved the accuracy of Emanuel's judgment. Spectators crowded the exhibit, bought up his paintings at the average rate of one per hour, in the first three days. At week's end only 16 remained unsold. Mused Painter Emanuel:

"I meant to take my exhibition to Rome, just for fun, but I won't have enough paintings left. I never expected such success. And when I think of how and why I began . . ."

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