1 / Dec / 2016
That time when we met

Dear Jurnale,

it is evening and I am writing to you as I am with my father Tommaso near the furnace fire, waiting to fork the last bundle and finish the firing.

It is evening and my father  tells one of his many stories from the past and I want to share it with you, my dear Jurnale …

We were in the early 50 – my father Tommaso tells – and the President of the Italian Republic Einaudi ordered a floor for his estate in Piedmont. It was a 20×20 Rufoli cotto floor, chiseled by hand.

At the time, our tiles were loaded on the little red van Leoncino of my father Carmine.

 

There were not special boxes or packaging, the tiles were placed one by one on the Leoncino and, between a row and the other, there was a bit of straw. The load lasted a few days, and then we left.

When Carmine arrived to the Piedmont village, he found so much snow that he had to ask for help and be pulled to the President’s home. Finally he arrived at the villa, opened the van door and showed the tiles to the foreman who exclaimed: “What have you brought us? These tiles are gnawed by mice, we don’t want them”. Of course, the foreman had confused the handmade natural chiseling of the tiles for a sign of wear. Then Carmine, with all his patience, explained the production, the source, and the high value of the handmade Rufoli cotto, but he didn’t manage to persuade the stubborn foreman.

 

Quite disheartened, Carmine came back to the village and called the engineer Ragazzini, a brilliant Roman dealer who, after the war, had started to brilliantly sell Rufoli cotto and so he also  took care of the President Einaudi order.

“Don’t worry Carmine – the engineer said – I’ll solve the problem”.

After two hours, the prefect arrived at the president’s house with police cars and a new company with a message from President Einaudi for the stubborn foreman: “The one who does not understand the preciousness of this material cannot work in my villa, so you are dismissed”.

In all our “riggiola” (tiles) there is the nature, the history, the four elements, the clay magic… In all our tiles there is the fire that creates and gives life to our artisan creations, there is the soul of the ones who have always lived in these places and who continue to hand down the meaning of it, just like my father Tommaso does through his stories.

See you for the next story, my dear Jurnale.

What has been, will be again.