For Paolo Boni

My memories of Paolo Boni and his wife Cuchi go way back, but it seems like only yesterday when they invited my father Gino Severini, my mother and I far from Paris on a beautiful day when I was only 16 to visit Malmaison and part of the Chantilly forest in their little car. I’ve kept photographs of the walk we took that day. I believe these two Tuscan painters, who hit it off immediately, first met in the early 50’s when we moved to Paris after six years living in partial isolation in the suburb of Meudon. The immediate friendship, which went hand in hand with the esteem my father had for this young artist, came with the bonus of both originating from a land blessed by the Art gods!

Speaking of Tuscans, already in 1906, this first encounter with Modigliani, who stopped them when he recognized them as Italians and then as Tuscans. To name one other old master, I remember the Florentine painter Magnelli, with whom my father didn’t share much artistically, but studies in Tuscany gave them enough in common to get along. An amusing anecdote underlines the familiarity that existed between Paolo and my father who, having learned that Boni came from the same place as the painter Giotto, scolded him for not informing him sooner. And during a trip to Italy, where they had the good fortune to meet in Florence, he took advantage of the opportunity to travel to Vicchio with Boni, visit Giotto’s house and secretly remove a wooden nail from it which he preciously kept his entire life like a religious relic!

We can’t speak about Paolo Boni without mentioning his wife Cuchi White, a magnificent photographer, an artist who knew how to merge the skills of her trade with a very poetic sensitivity, which can be seen in some very beautiful books. They both came often to the studio on rue Schoelcher at the end of the afternoon, sometimes unexpected but not always, knowing that my father would happily stop working to speak with them about anything, especially the latest exhibits they had seen and offer their criticism or (very rarely!) their approval. They thought along the same lines on almost everything, even politics, which were very unpredictable at the time. Time flew by and it was suddenly evening, but luckily the Bonis didn’t live far away and we split up promising to meet again as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, my father, who was a generation older, suddenly died and my mother, shortly thereafter, moved with me to Rome, making these close exchanges impossible. But my mother and I never cut ties with the Bonis.

There were opportunities in Rome, when the Bonis stayed briefly with our shared friend Luciana, the widow of the painter Franco Gentilini, another Tuscan, from Pisa, who made our meetings easier. And then there were my stays in Paris during which I visited Paolo’s studio in Alesia. The real studio of a real painter.

There is much to say about this friendship, but I don’t have the skills to go deeper and cite their shared ideas on art and their divergences regarding the problems they raise; others will do so more knowledgeably. I do know, however, that my father really appreciated the endearing support of a young artist for an older colleague, who knew how to cheer him up physically and artistically. I need to finish this affectionate remembrance by mentioning Cuchi, who made these encounters all the more enjoyable with her particular way of speaking with a mix of Florentine, French and American accents, which made her unique, as they were as a couple and so complementary.

Romana Severini Brunori
Rome November 2017