Abruzzese Jewelry: Tracing the Gold in My Blood

Rome and Pittsburgh.  These were the places where the men in my family—Alfredo and Frank Mastrovincenzo— practiced their craft, sculpting gold by hand into rings, brooches, necklaces, and bracelets to sell in their jewelry shops.  My baby ring and later my wedding rings were made by Bucci’s Jewelry Company on Liberty Avenue in Pittsburgh where my great uncle Frank had once been a co-owner.  And I’ve visited my great uncle Alfredo’s home workshop in Rome, lovingly preserved by his widow Rina, several times.   But my family’s trade actually originated somewhere else entirely—in Castiglione Messer Marino, a tiny town at an elevation of over 1,500 meters, in Abruzzo.   This is where my grandmother and great uncles were born and where my great grandfather, Giuseppe, and his brothers first worked as goldsmiths in the early part of the twentieth century.  As a third generation Italian American, I had always wanted to see for myself the craggy mountains that my great grandfather Giuseppe crossed by mule to deliver wedding rings to remote villages.  So I set out for Abruzzo this past January, unsure of what I’d find.

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During my visit, I discovered that it was no coincidence that the goldsmiths in my family hailed from Abruzzo.  The region is known for its distinctive jewelry, characterized by filigree work so fine that it resembles lace.  The presentosa, a gold or silver medallion featuring a star and heart, might best represent the local style.  Hoping to find a presentosa, I journeyed to Sulmona in Abruzzo.  This town is probably most famous for its candy covered almond confetti and for being the birthplace of the poet Ovid.  But Sulmona is also where Abruzzese goldsmiths preserve the centuries old decorative art traditions even today.  When I arrived in the town by train, friendly women in the tourist bureau humored my choppy Italian and directed me to jewelry shops, but because it was mid-afternoon, all of them were closed.

To pass the time, I perused a book store where I found Amuleti Ornamenti Magici d’Abruzzo by Adriana Gandolfi.  From this book, I learned that popular Abruzzese designs include a blindfolded cupid wearing a crown, natural objects, like snakes or horns, and religious subjects. Detailed handiwork and semi-precious stones, including coral, lend an Abruzzese flare to pendants, rings, brooches, bracelets, and dangling earrings.  According to folklore, some kinds of jewelry were traditionally thought to possess magical and curative powers, bringing a wearer fertility, good fortune, or health.  Others offered protection from maladies, the evil eye, or witchcraft.  Gandolfi mentions that even the materials themselves have symbolic value.  Gold represents fire and the sun while silver symbolizes the moon and water.  The folklore surrounding Abruzzese jewelry probably dates back to pre-Christian times.  Jewelry, it seems, was important not only in the lives of my family, but in the lives of generations of Abruzzese people as well.

As the mountains’ shadows filled the valley, I left the bookstore.  The streets of Sulmona buzzed with people—women linked arms, old men sat on a bench near the drinking fountain, and children darted after soccer balls.  My train to Rome was scheduled to leave soon, so I took one last stroll around the piazza.  Yellow light spilled out of one jewelry shop window.  I knocked on the door and Alessio Manicelli, the owner, invited me inside.  His desk was crowded with works-in-progress and tools.   From among his handcrafted jewels, I chose a cupid pendant studded with coral as a souvenir.

While Signore Manicelli wrapped up my treasure, I worked up the courage to tell him about the goldsmiths in my family.  I tried to find the words to express that my great grandfather had been listed among other artists in a book on the subject of Abruzzese jewelry.  I wanted to say that I had a sense that my family was part of a larger tradition—one that was culturally rich and that I was just beginning to understand.  It was hard to shape my feeling of connectedness into English, let alone Italian.  But despite the language barrier, Signore Manicelli seemed to understand.  Reaching under his desk, he told me he had something for me.  A small gift, traditionally worn by people in this part of Italy.  Silver flashed in his hand.  Signore Manicelli offered me something that I hadn’t seen in the store window for sale—something that, since the beginning of my journey, I hoped to find. A presentosa.

Author’s note: Special thanks to Dina (Mastrovincenzo) Mastrangelo and Rina Mastrovincenzo for generously providing family history.  For more information on Abruzzese jewelry, please consult Amuleti Ornamenti Magici d’Abruzzo by Adriana Gandolfi (2003). To buy your own presentosa, visit Alessio Manicelli’s website http://www.orafomancinelli.it.

Article by: Natalie Tilghman
Read more of Natalie’s writing at: www.thewindycitywriter.com