Skip to content Skip to footer

Audioguide – The Sitting Room

Audioguide – The Sitting Room

After the proclamation of the Free Port in 1719 — and especially between 1740 and 1780, under Maria Theresa of Austria — Trieste became the Empire’s gateway to the sea: a unique destiny that drew diplomats and merchants from every horizon — Austrians, Greeks, Serbs, Jews, and Slovenes. Thus was born the myth of the cosmopolitan city. And within a century, the story of modern Triestine art would begin.

The sea is the thematic heart of the small wall panel you see upon entering the living room, to your left, where at the center of the composition shines the splendid Marina with Bragozzi by Giuseppe Barison. Barison — often called the poet of the Triestine sea — refined his vision of marine landscapes in Genoa, where he had sought refuge during the First World War, a conflict that struck this region with particular violence

Things began to change in the latter half of the nineteenth century. On one hand, the Italo-Slav idyll — the peaceful coexistence between Italians and Slavs — began to crumble under the weight of nationalist movements. On the other, tensions grew between the old imperial power and the rising mercantile bourgeoisie, embodied by figures such as Baron Revoltella or Rosario Currò — whose only son, Rosario Junior, dominates the large portrait by Carlo Wostry displayed on the north wall. On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. Just a few days later, on July 2, his funeral procession passed through the streets of Trieste, on its final journey from Sarajevo to Vienna. It was the symbolic end of Austria Felix — the long, seemingly golden reign of Franz Josef. Trieste moves from myth to reality.

After the First World War, Trieste — together with Istria and Dalmatia — became part of Italy. It marked the beginning of a profound transformation of its destiny and its role in history. The link with the Danubian-Balkan hinterland — source of its prosperity and greatness — was severed, and the city, once a door open to the world, became instead a bastion isolated from its past. The sea, once its beating heart, turned into an archaeological or even symbolic element in much of its local art. It would remain a constant presence also in the life and work of Alice Psacaropulo, represented here not only by still lifes and Triestine landscapes, but also by a small mosaic table placed in the center of the red Thonet sitting area.

This table was assembled in 1949 from the remaining wooden tesserae used by Alice for the decoration of the grand ballroom of the ocean liner Conte Biancamano — today partially reconstructed at the Leonardo da Vinci Museum of Science and Technology in Milan. It was one of the most prestigious commissions of her career, a project that saw her working side by side with one of the greatest painters represented in this collection — Giuseppe Santomaso (whom we will meet in the next room). From the late 1960s date the two small lacquered tempera panels depicting the Aswan Dam, positioned on the balustrade leading to the terrace, as well as the sketches for the monumental decorations of the Raffaello ocean liner’s cinema auditorium — works now lost after the ship’s sinking in the Persian Gulf.

These pieces tell of another jewel of Trieste’s economy — the glorious age of the so-called “white ships,” when war vessels were transformed into floating art galleries, thanks to the collaboration of artists such as Marcello Mascherini, Vito Timmel, and Avgust Černigoj — the only local artist trained at Gropius’s Bauhaus — represented here by the small dragon placed beside Sbisà’s rooster.