Art and events are the lifeblood of L’Aquila

A few infinitesimal drops of blood are worth the journey to L’Aquila, Italy’s Capital of Culture for 2026. Standing before the small panel painting Ecce Homo by Antonello di Messina, recently acquired by the Italian State for 12.5 million euros, wonder gives way to silence, and pain becomes something profoundly human. The diptych (painted on both sides) has become part of the collections of MunDA, the National Museum of Abruzzo, and is perhaps the jewel in the crown of this special year for the city, which, ever since the earthquake of 6 April 2009, has clung to culture and beauty in its quest for rebirth.

We are at the foot of the Gran Sasso, which watches over buildings and people, hopes and expectations: the 16th-century castle, partly returned to the town and reopened last December, houses archaeological finds from the Amiternum site and masterpieces ranging from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance. Amidst all this art is Antonello’s masterpiece too – in all likelihood a panel intended for private devotion, given its subjects and dimensions: on the recto, the face of Christ presented to the people after the scourging, his eyes half-closed, those few drops of blood capturing his suffering and humanity. It is not Christ, but every man and woman who suffers anywhere in the world. On the verso, Saint Jerome is kneeling in a desert landscape, praying before a crucifix embedded in the rock. The vast corridors, the white stone and the intrusive light lead towards the exhibition ‘The Visitation in L’Aquila’, running until 27 September 2026. For the first time, after more than three and a half centuries, the Visitation – which Raphael painted around 1517–19 on commission from the Branconio family for the Chapel of the Visitation in the Church of San Silvestro – returns to the city from the Prado in Madrid. Mary and Elizabeth are depicted with sculptural grace, exchanging tender glances and whispers, much like in the painting by Jacopo Pontormo (c. 1528–30) from the Church of San Michele Arcangelo in Carmignano (Prato) and which engages in a dialogue with Raphael and with some of the drawings by Giulio Romano and Biagio Pupini, united by similar stylistic features in defining the canon of the Visitation.

From MunDA, the historic centre is close by: by now, 96 per cent of public buildings have been restored, whilst the figure for private buildings stands at 60 per cent; yet the sun shines brightly on the stone and the air is crisp, not just because of the pleasant breeze blowing down from the Gran Sasso. On these summer days, the streets are full of people, almost obscuring the scaffolding that still supports some of the buildings. The many cranes against the blue sky speak of the future, of a city on the move, which can also draw inspiration from Ai Weiwei’s ‘Aftershock’ exhibition, on display at the MAXXI until 20 September 2026. Palazzo Ardinghelli, commissioned by the Florentine family of the same name who had been trading in wool in the city since the 16th century, is the perfect snapshot of life after the earthquake: the stone glistens in the sun, the white marble staircases evoke the glory of days gone by, and the works of the dissident Chinese artist seem tailor-made for L’Aquila, especially those created after the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. At that time, Ai Weiwei created Straight using 150 tonnes of steel rebar salvaged clandestinely from the buildings and then straightened. Today, 40 of those tonnes have been re-installed in L’Aquila: the arrangement in parallel lines evokes both geological strata and those traumatic faults. Looking at the rusty rebar and gazing up past the windows towards the Church of Santa Maria Paganica, still propped up by scaffolding, is L’Aquila today; the wound cannot be erased, but the cure lies in planning, funding and commitment: ‘In the 1980s, this was the Salzburg of Italia,’ recalls Elisa Cerasoli of MAXXI, ‘and culture is our destiny – just look at how many active organisations there are: the Academy of Fine Arts, the Abruzzo Symphony Orchestra, the symphony and chamber orchestras, thirteen amateur choirs, and the GSSI (Gran Sasso Science Institute) postgraduate school.”

From the past to the present, beauty has been both our guide and our destiny, so much so that, in recent months, the events linked to the Capital of Culture and those of the Cantieri dell’Immaginario have provided the energy to continue on our path with confidence and determination. The stone of the palaces, and that of the sdruccioli – the stairways leading down towards the valley – bear witness to tenacity and resilience, as can be seen at the Basilica of Santa Maria di Collemagno, now radiant following its restoration. Here, on 29 August 1294, Pietro da Morrone was elected Pope under the name of Celestine V and issued the Papal Bull (preserved in the city, in the vault of the Banca d’Italia) granting a plenary indulgence to anyone who, having confessed and repented, entered the basilica, thus anticipating the institution of the Jubilee established in 1300 by Boniface VIII. To commemorate the Bull and the indulgence, the Perdonanza Celestiniana takes place every year from Vespers on 28 August to those on 29 August; it is much more than a religious event. There is a shared past and, above all, peace in people’s eyes and a strong sense of identity.

The words that will ring out this coming November at the Teatro Comunale: “This place,” explains Mayor Pierluigi Biondi, “is the very heart and soul of our community: there is perhaps no more important restoration.” After 14 million in public funding, and following years of hard work, the renovation is drawing to a close: right now, the terrazzo floors are being polished, the seats (with a capacity of 560) are being installed, and the red velvet upholstery is being fitted: ‘The schedule leaves us no leeway; there’s no time to waste, but I’m sure we’ll make it,’ says Mario Pelliccione proudly, head of the company carrying out the restoration. And he takes us on a tour of the boxes and the stalls. The masterpiece, bridging the past and the future, is the attic: original chestnut beams stretching for tens of metres, which have stood for centuries, combined with steel tie rods from the new millennium to stabilise the building. But perhaps the most moving space is the Sala Rossa. It was the foyer of the theatre; the earthquake had reduced it to rubble, and now that vaulted ceiling has been rebuilt. Only three fragments of the original frescoes remain, but the crates containing all the fragments collected in 2009 represent a time of hardship that can be transformed back into beauty. Ferocity that will become purity and joy. An anonymous 15th-century poet, whose verses are inscribed at Porta Bazzano, wrote: ‘The beautiful Eagle may never perish / for God made her free and secure, / most beautiful and full of courage, / she who soars above the waves to great heights’. The buried stones blossom into life because they are the soul we seek.