Si differenzia dagli altri costumi tradizionali della Sardegna per alcuni dettagli esclusivi. Tale acconciatura crea una forma quasi trapezoidale del copricapo che distingue le donne di Dorgali da tutte le altre donne sarde. Completa il tutto un grembiule scuro disegnato a fiori. I numerosi gioielli completano e arricchiscono lo sfarzoso abbigliamento delle donne dorgalesi.
Subito scatta il vecchio amore per il ciclismo e, per due euro, la foto diventa mia. Prova ne sia il fatto che recentemente un negozio di Nizza specializzato in musica antica www. Le province citate nel testo sono Cagliari, Sassari e Nuoro, mentre le immagini, con tanto di stemmi, sono dedicate a Sassari e Cagliari.
Nuoro si intuisce solo dai costumi raffigurati che, indubbiamente, sono riconducibili al suo territorio. Il palazzo, realizzato in granito grigio con incastri di vulcanite rossa, spicca per la sua struttura massiccia che, in qualche modo, influenzo tutte le successive realizzazioni pubbliche di Nuoro. Dalla facciata sono spariti i fasci littori e gli stemmi legati ai Savoia e al regime.
Spiccano la presenza del selciato, attraversato da una veloce signora in nero, e i due lampioni con riccioli e volute spariti anche quelli. Il vecchio pulman della Satas affronta con fatica la curva di Parasata lungo una strada statale non ancora asfaltata. Qui ci sono molti banditi e gli abitanti, specie quelli agiati, temono sempre qualche rappresaglia. Non escono manco di casa. Rubano tutto, galline, maiali, etc. Remo Branca: artista e uomo di chiesa Remo Branca Sassari, — Roma , artista e incisore sardo, era notoriamente conosciuto per la militanza cattolica che lo vide impegnatissimo per tutta la sua vita.
Anche due cartoline acquistate in un mercatino testimoniano il rapporto di Remo Branca con la chiesa e con gli alti vertici ecclesiastici. Le ragazze di Oniferi Tre ragazze con il tipico costume di Oniferi , due in piedi e una seduta, posano immobili per il fotografo. La cartolina, edita dalla L. Quando Nuoro era in provincia di Sassari Una cartolina acquistata su una bancarella romana immortala una giovane donna nel tipico costume nuorese, statica, appoggiata a una sedia, in una classica posa spesso utilizzata per i ritratti femminili gli uomini, normalmente, erano fotografati appoggiati al fucile.
La cartolina, spedita da Nuoro a Roma nel risulta edita dalla S. Con tale obiettivo, nel , fu decisa la creazione di un centro di educazione ginnica militare e, con il regio decreto 20 aprile , venne istituita la Scuola centrale militare di educazione fisica in Roma. La cartolina, illustrata da Melkiorre Melis, risale al e, con una resa grafica quasi a pochoir, esalta il mito della bellezza fisica propugnato dal regime fascista.
Una storia ricca di intrecci tra terrorismo, sangue, passione e follia in una Nuoro misteriosa e intrigante. A un certo punto nel romanzo pag. I rossi dei corpetti spiccavano come macchie di sangue e laceravano il tono bruno, terroso e salmastro della pittura. Aveva rubato del bestiame? Aveva ucciso il compare in una rissa? Era un brigante sanguinario? Aveva spostato i confini della tanca? Aveva dato fuoco al sughereto del confinante? Aveva avvelenato i pozzi e gli abbeveraggi? Pantocratori imparziali e incorruttibili.
Niente di tutto questo: i giudici, molto semplicemente, lo cacciarono. Il film segue abbastanza fedelmente il romanzo della Deledda, sia per quanto riguarda la trama che per quanto attiene alla caratterizzazione dei personaggi.
Una serie di quattro cartoline, stampate per promuovere il film, raffigura i principali protagonisti. Le altre cartoline raffigurano Franca Marzi che interpreta la vedova Zana e Roldano Lupi, che interpreta Don Paulu Decherchi, inquadrato a cavallo in una scena con la Dominguez e con altre comparse con il costume di Oliena. Anche Roldano Lupi appare pienamente calato nello spirito del personaggio deleddiano.
Quelle donne sarde che erano padrone incontrastate degli spazi ove sorge il Museo, ben prima che il fascismo rinnovasse il lavatoio. Roba da cinghiali… Oggi giornata dedicata al riordino della libreria di casa: sposta, spolvera, metti a posto, sistema.
Nella maggior parte dei casi si trattava di telai domestici, dedicati alla produzione di teli e coperte grezze di uso quotidiano. Anche le cartoline illustrate hanno dedicato attenzione a tali produzioni.
Le ho acquistate in un mercatino antiquario e, siccome avevano cornici molto sciupate, ho provveduto io a realizzarne due nuove, in modo da valorizzarle adeguatamente.
Nella mia collezione posseggo una cartolina che riproduce un dipinto di Ofelia Verzelloni. Anche a Parigi si fece apprezzare come acquafortista illustrando numerosi libri. Mora di macchia Gaetano Spinelli, pittore, era nato a Bitonto, in provincia di Bari, nel Sono le stesse opere che possiamo vedere in una foto che ritrae Spinelli nel suo studio di piazzale Donatello a Firenze.
Su Don Barboni, quando ero bambino, circolavano storie e aneddoti vari.
After that Parker decided that country air was the only kind fit to breathe. He rented the shack on the embankment and bought the old truck and took various jobs which he kept as long as it suited him. At the time he met his future wife, he was buying apples by the bushel and selling them for the same price by the pound to isolated homesteaders on back country roads.
Well what the hell do I care what she thinks of it? Parker asked himself, but he was plainly bewildered. He thrust the arm back at her. She pointed to the eagle. She went slowly back to the house and left him there to get going.
Parker remained for almost five minutes, looking agape at the dark door she had just entered. The next day he returned with a bushel of apples. He was not one to be outdone by anything that looked like her. When he arrived, she was sitting on the top step and the yard was full of children, all as thin and poor as herself; Parker remembered it was Saturday.
He hated to be making up to a woman when there were children around, but it was fortunate he had brought the bushel of apples off the truck. As the children approached him to see what he carried, he gave each child an apple and told it to get lost; in that way he cleared the whole crowd. The girl did nothing to acknowledge his presence. He might have been a stray pig or goat that had wandered into the yard and she too tired to take up the broom and send it off.
He set the bushel of apples down next to her on the step. He sat down on a lower step. Hungry people made Parker nervous. He had always had plenty to eat himself. He grew very uncomfortable.
He reasoned he had nothing to say so why should he say it? He supposed they were her brothers and sisters. She chewed the apple slowly but with a kind of relish of concentration, bent slightly but looking out ahead. The view from the porch stretched off across a long incline studded with iron weed and across the highway to a vast vista of hills and one small mountain.
Long views depressed Parker. You look out into space like that and you begin to feel as if someone were after you, the navy or the government or religion. Parker thought. A large barefooted woman with a wide gap-toothed face appeared in the door behind Parker.
She had apparently been there for several minutes. The woman crossed the porch and picked up what was left of the bushel of apples. The girl nodded. He just sat there, looking at the view. He thought he must be coming down with something. Parker had no intention of taking any basket of peaches back there but the next day he found himself doing it. He and the girl had almost nothing to say to each other.
Parker thought he was losing his mind. He could not believe for a minute that he was attracted to a woman like this. She showed not the least interest in anything but what he brought until he appeared the third time with two cantaloupes. He had never revealed the name to any man or woman, only to the files of the navy and the government, and it was on his baptismal record which he got at the age of a month; his mother was a Methodist.
When the name leaked out of the navy files, Parker narrowly missed killing the man who used it. Her face slowly brightened as if the name came as a sign to her. Her mother did not seem to mind his attention to the girl so long as he brought a basket of something with him when he came. As for Sarah Ruth herself, it was plain to Parker after he had visited three times that she was crazy about him.
Not long after that she agreed to take a ride in his truck. Parker parked it on a deserted road and suggested to her that they lie down together in the back of it. He made up his mind then and there to have nothing further to do with her.
Parker had no opinion about that one way or the other. The Ordinary was an old woman with red hair who had held office for forty years and looked as dusty as her books. Marriage did not change Sarah Ruth a jot and it made Parker gloomier than ever.
Every morning he decided he had had enough and would not return that night; every night he returned. To see a tattoo on his own back he would have to get two mirrors and stand between them in just the correct position and this seemed to Parker a good way to make an idiot of himself. Sarah Ruth who, if she had had better sense, could have enjoyed a tattoo on his back, would not even look at the ones he had elsewhere. When he attempted to point out especial details of them, she would shut her eyes tight and turn her back as well.
Except in total darkness, she preferred Parker dressed and with his sleeves rolled down. You ought to go back to selling the fruits of the earth.
When he could, he broke in with tales of the hefty girl he worked for. Dissatisfaction began to grow so great in Parker that there was no containing it outside of a tattoo. It had to be his back. There was no help for it. A dim half-formed inspiration began to work in his mind. He visualized having a tattoo put there that Sarah Ruth would not be able to resist — a religious subject.
What you think I want to read the same verse over and over for when I can read it all? He thought about it so much that he began to lose sleep. He was already losing flesh — Sarah Ruth just threw food in the pot and let it boil. Not knowing for certain why he continued to stay with a woman who was both ugly and pregnant and no cook made him generally nervous and irritable, and he developed a little tic in the side of his face. Once or twice he found himself turning around abruptly as if someone were trailing him.
He had had a granddaddy who had ended in the state mental hospital, although not until he was seventy-five, but as urgent as it might be for him to get a tattoo, it was just as urgent that get exactly the right one to bring Sarah Ruth to heel. As he continued to worry over it, his eyes took on a hollow, preoccupied expression. Parker was too preoccupied even to be offended. The old woman was the kind who would not cut down a large old tree because it was a large old tree.
Parker began at the outside of the field and made circles inward toward it. He had to get off the tractor every now and then and untangle the baling cord or kick a rock out of the way. The old woman had told him to carry the rocks to the edge of the field, which he did when she was there watching.
When he thought he could make it, he ran over them. As he circled the field his mind was on a suitable design for his back. The sun, the size of a golf ball, began to switch regularly from in front to behind him, but he appeared to see it both places as if he had eyes in the back of his head. All at once he saw the tree reaching out to grasp him.
The first thing Parker saw were his shoes, quickly being eaten by the fire; one was caught under the tractor, the other was some distance away, burning by itself. He was not in them. He could feel the hot breath of the burning tree on his face. He scrambled backwards, still sitting, his eyes cavernous, and if he had known how to cross himself he would have done it.
His truck was on a dirt road at the edge of the field. He moved toward it, still sitting, still backwards, but faster and faster; half-way to it he got up and began a kind of forward-bent run from which he collapsed on his knees twice.
His legs felt like two old rusted rain gutters. He reached the truck finally and took off in it, zigzagging up the road. He drove past his house on the embankment and straight for the city, fifty miles distant.
Parker did not allow himself to think on the way to the city. He only knew that there had been a great change in his life, a leap forward into a worse unknown, and that there was nothing he could do about it. It was for all intents accomplished. Parker, still barefooted, burst silently in on him at a little after three in the afternoon. He looked up with an annoyed glance and did not seem to recognize Parker in the hollow-eyed creature before him.
You done work for me before and I always paid! With the aid of mirrors the artist had tattooed on the top of his head a miniature owl, perfect in every detail. It was about the size of a half-dollar and served him as a show piece. There were cheaper artists in town but Parker had never wanted anything but the best.
The artist went over to a cabinet at the back of the room and began to look over some art books. He moved some papers off another table and put the book down on it and told Parker to sit down and see what he liked. Parker sat down with the book and wet his thumb.
In Japan he had had a tattoo of the Buddha done on his upper arm with ivory needles; in Burma, a little brown root of a man had made a peacock on each of his knees using thin pointed sticks, two feet long; amateurs had worked on him with pins and soot. Parker was usually so relaxed and easy under the hand of the artist that he often went to sleep, but this time he remained awake, every muscle taut.
At midnight the artist said he was ready to quit. Parker stood with his back to the one on the table and moved the other until he saw a flashing burst of color reflected from his back. It was almost completely covered with little red and blue and ivory and saffron squares; from them he made out the lineaments of the face — a mouth, the beginning of heavy brows, a straight nose, but the face was empty; the eyes had not yet been but in.
We have another day to go on it yet. He found these the best places to stay in the city because they were free and included a meal of sorts. He got the last available cot and because he was still barefooted, he accepted a pair of second-hand shoes which, in his confusion, he put on to go to bed; he was still shocked from all that had happened to him. All night he lay awake in the long tiktok viewer online of cots with lumpy figures on them.
The only light was from a phosphorescent cross glowing at the end of the room. The tree reached out to grasp him again, then burst into flame; the shoe burned jcf by itself; the eyes in the book said to him distinctly GO BACK and at the same time did not utter a sound. He wished that he were not in this city, not in this Haven of Light Mission, not in a bed by himself.
He longed miserably for Sarah Ruth. Her sharp tongue and icepick eyes were the only comfort he could bring to mind. He decided he was losing it. Her eyes appeared soft and dilatory compared with the eyes in the book, for even though he could not summon up the exact look of those eyes, he could still feel their penetration.
He felt as though, under their gaze, he was as transparent as the wing of a fly. The tattooist had told him not to come until ten in the morning, but when he arrived at that hour, Parker was sitting in the dark hallway on the floor, waiting for him.
He had decided upon getting up that, once the tattoo was on him, he would not look at it, that all his sensations of the day and night before were those of a crazy man and that he would return to doing things according to his own sound judgment. That artist began where he left off. Have you gone and got religion? Are you saved? I ought to leave her. He lay there, imagining how Sarah Ruth would be struck speechless by the face on his back and every now and then this would be interrupted by a vision of the tree of fire and his empty shoe burning beneath it.
Finally he finished. Parker sat up but he remained on the edge of the table. The artist was pleased with his work and wanted Parker to look at it at once. Instead Parker continued to sit on the edge of the table, bent forward slightly but with a vacant look.
The artist took him roughly by the arm and propelled him between the two mirrors. Parker looked, turned white and moved away. The eyes in the reflected face continued to look at him — still, straight, all-demanding, enclosed in silence. He bought a pint of whiskey and took it into a nearby alley and drank it all in five minutes.
Then he moved on to a pool hall nearby which he frequented when he came to the city. It was a well-lighted barn-like place with a bar up one side and gambling machines on the other and pool tables in the back. Parker felt all the hands drop away instantly and his shirt fell again like a veil over the face. There was a silence in the pool room which seemed to Parker to grow from the circle around him until it extended to the foundations under the building and upward through the beams in the roof.
Parker turned around, an uncertain grin on his face. Then a calm descended on the pool hall as nerve shattering as if the long barnlike room were the ship from which Jonah had been cast into the sea. Parker sat for a long time on the ground in the alley behind the pool hall, examining his soul. He saw it as a spider web of facts and lies that was not at all important to him but which appeared to be necessary in spite of his opinion.
The eyes that were now forever on his back were eyes to be obeyed. He was as certain of it as he had ever been of anything. Throughout his life, grumbling and sometimes cursing, often afraid, once in rapture, Parker had obeyed whatever instinct of this kind had come to him — in rapture when his spirit had lifted at the sight of the tattooed man at the fair, afraid when he had joined the navy, grumbling when he had married Sarah Ruth.
The thought of her brought him slowly to his feet. She would know what he had to do. She would clear up the rest of it, and she would at least be pleased. It seemed to him that, all along, that was what he wanted, to please her.
His truck was still parked in front of the building were the artist had his place, but it was not far away. He got in it and drove out of the city and into the country night.
His head was almost clear of liquor and he observed that his dissatisfaction was gone, but he felt not quite like himself. It was as if he were himself but a stranger to himself, driving into a new country though everything he saw was familiar to him, even at night.
He arrived finally at the house on the embankment, pulled the truck under the pecan tree and got out. He made as much noise as possible to assert that he was still in charge here, that his leaving her for a night without a word meant nothing except it was the way he did things.
He slammed the car door, stamped up the two steps and across the porch and rattled the door knob. It did not respond to his touch. He began to beat on the door and rattle the knob at the same time. He heard the bed springs screak and bent down and put his head to the keyhole, but it was stopped up with paper. He tried once more. You know me. Parker turned his head as if he expected someone behind him to give him the answer. The sky had lightened slightly and there were two or three streaks of chinese baby calendar 2020 floating above the horizon.
Then as he stood there, a tree of light burst over the skyline. Certamente conosciamo oggi grazie al restauro della Cineteca altri titoli che non erano stati contemplati dai due studiosi: Campane a stormo! Esiste invece un film intitolato Il pericolo pubblico n. Parenti resta avvolta nel mistero. Una recente indagine operata da Stefano Bulgarelli e da me sul territorio modenese e reggiano non ha dato i frutti sperati. Di una Secchia rapita di Gino Parenti esistono scarsissime informazioni e tutte di seconda mano.
Si sa di certo invece che i fratelli Cossio misero mano al testo tassoniano realizzando la loro versione de La secchia rapita, della quale esistono molti fotogrammi. Per le musiche dei due film cita rispettivamente Massimo e Alessandro Amfiteatroff o Amphiteatroff. Il film non ebbe probabilmente alcuna distribuzione. A distanza di anni Peroni avrebbe riferito a Gibba di aver rintracciato la copia del film. La morte del grande artista nativo di Senigallia lascia al momento senza soluzione il mistero intorno a questa pellicola.
Documenti a riguardo restano al momento irreperibili. Il film, che si divideva in tre parti, fu lanciato con grande successo di interesse e di critica nel dicembre del Tuttavia esistono testimonianze contrastanti in merito. La tesi troverebbe conferma nelle parole di disegnatori che presero parte alla successiva produzione C.
Gran parte degli attori erano stati scelti, Mario Pompei aveva disegnato le scene, i mobili e i costumi, il tutto veramente con molto buon gusto e sapore. Bosio descrive nel medesimo articolo la corretta ubicazione della C.
A Ottobre dello stesso anno, tale M. In questa sede si parla anche di «ogni esclusiva della C. La Latina Film ha stretto contatto con la U. Non vi erano attrezzature ed i disegni venivano ripresi uno per uno con una comune macchina fotografica, in modo molto impreciso. Prova ne sia il fatto che recentemente un negozio di Nizza specializzato in musica antica www. Le province citate nel testo sono Cagliari, Sassari e Nuoro, mentre le immagini, con tanto di stemmi, sono dedicate a Sassari e Cagliari.
«Le avventure di Pinocchio» di Attalo, Verdini e Barbara
Nuoro si intuisce solo dai costumi raffigurati che, indubbiamente, sono riconducibili al suo territorio. Il palazzo, realizzato in granito grigio con incastri di vulcanite rossa, spicca per la sua struttura massiccia che, in qualche modo, influenzo tutte le successive realizzazioni pubbliche di Nuoro. Dalla facciata sono spariti i fasci littori e gli stemmi legati ai Savoia e al regime. Spiccano la presenza del selciato, attraversato da una veloce signora in nero, e i due lampioni con riccioli e volute spariti anche quelli.
Il vecchio pulman della Satas affronta con fatica la curva di Parasata lungo una strada statale non ancora asfaltata. Qui ci sono molti banditi e gli abitanti, specie quelli agiati, temono sempre qualche rappresaglia. Non escono manco di casa. Rubano tutto, galline, maiali, etc. Remo Branca: artista e uomo di chiesa Remo Branca Sassari, — Romaartista e incisore sardo, era notoriamente conosciuto per la militanza cattolica che lo vide impegnatissimo per tutta la sua vita.
Anche due cartoline acquistate in un mercatino testimoniano il rapporto di Remo Branca con la chiesa e con gli alti vertici ecclesiastici. Le ragazze di Oniferi Tre ragazze con il tipico costume di Oniferidue in piedi e una seduta, posano immobili per il fotografo. La cartolina, edita dalla L. Quando Nuoro era in provincia di Sassari Una cartolina acquistata su una bancarella romana immortala una giovane donna nel tipico costume nuorese, statica, appoggiata a una sedia, in una classica posa spesso utilizzata per i ritratti femminili gli uomini, normalmente, erano fotografati appoggiati al fucile.
La cartolina, spedita da Nuoro a Roma nel risulta edita dalla S.