The workshop has more than a century of history and in the course of time has made iron works of all kinds: furnishings, barriers, fences, signs and safety works. To create quality pieces, the blacksmith skilfully uses the historic methods of processing and new technologies.
In addition, the Bottega del Fabbro workshop restores homes, period buildings, churches and monuments.
Since 2012 it has been registered on the National Register of Historical Companies.
Together with the Urban District of Commerce, we met Raffaele, the owner, who told us his story.
"Raffele Scuri's blacksmith's workshop in the upper town is a place of other times.
As soon as you cross the threshold you are immediately catapulted into another world, knights and swords, noblewomen and refined houses. You expect that suddenly a groom will enter, or the guardian of a hidden treasure with heavy keys and bolts to fix.
In reality, pairs of tourists enter, intrigued by this ancient art as well as the many faces of the upper town that pass every day for a coffee, or a quick chat about the news of the day, but above all to watch.
Yes, workshop umarell* exist!
*Umarell is a dialect word referring to old men who like to pass time watching construction sites.
The blacksmith, Raffaele Scuri, waits for us with his arms folded - as if to retain the energy that will then be necessary for him to work. He wears a jacket and jeans, but we would not be surprised to see him with clothes from a bygone era.
It seems like a place of eternal beauty where art, craftsmanship, physics and human sensibility meet and take the unique and unrepeatable shape of a wrought iron object: the headboard of a bed, the gate of a building, the lamp of a museum.
Here, since the beginning of the last century (the first shop dates back to 1904), four generations of artisans have succeeded each other. With a hammer in hand, sweat on their foreheads and passion in their gaze, they created their new life of young spouses settling down, where dreaming was as beautiful and strong as the love that animated them.
"Today, unfortunately, it is not like that anymore - he points out with apparent detachment - the forever is little practiced: there is no longer the home for life, let alone love. People move, change city, nation and no longer build anything to pass on. Our work has changed, but not so much for the industry, the department stores, the discounted offers, rather for the human beings and their tendency to live in the here and now - where investments, especially in terms of human relations, are increasingly fragile and fleeting ".
In the words of Raffaele, they mix hardness and melancholy, a sort of resignation that sometimes takes your breath away and seems to leave no room for wonder.
The fire returns a moment later.
The blacksmith of the upper town takes off his jacket, with decisive action revives the fire and dips a long iron bar into it. We remain motionless, anxious not to disturb. Just six hammer blows, the rhythm of his expert arms, the apparent lightness of a gesture learned by looking, wrongly, trying again, to witness the birth of the curl, perfect and different from all others, the railing of a terrace.
Only now, he smiles satisfied: "the most interesting part of this work is finding the right way to achieve something that seemed impossible”.
It is not just about using hands and tools: it requires reflection, tenacity and the sense of beauty.
What is needed is what Alda Merini called "the poetic gaze" and that is the extraordinary aptitude of making poetry come out of an inanimate object.
Who knows how can you teach it? Who knows if anyone still wants to learn it?
Then Raffaele is a son of art. His father Pietro took over from his grandfather in the '60s bringing some technical innovation and machinery, and especially poetry.
In fact, Pietro Frér is also the name of a dialect poet who was able to sing the hard life of the blacksmith.
“A l’ mör e l’ fà sènder urmài chèl carbù
a l’ sèra bütiga, l’è stràch pò a ‘l frér,
ma dét a chi öcc a s’ved la passiù
insèma al piassér d’ ì facc ol doér;
in mès al sò mónd e a chèla armonia,
a l’ canta piö ontéra la sò poesia.
(poetry by Piero Frér from the book "Piero Frér poesie")
Taking home an object made in Raffaele Scuri's workshop is an act of faith: in beauty, in work, in the future and in poetry.”
The workshop has more than a century of history and in the course of time has made iron works of all kinds: furnishings, barriers, fences, signs and safety works. To create quality pieces, the blacksmith skilfully uses the historic methods of processing and new technologies.
In addition, the Bottega del Fabbro workshop restores homes, period buildings, churches and monuments.
Since 2012 it has been registered on the National Register of Historical Companies.
Together with the Urban District of Commerce, we met Raffaele, the owner, who told us his story.
"Raffele Scuri's blacksmith's workshop in the upper town is a place of other times.
As soon as you cross the threshold you are immediately catapulted into another world, knights and swords, noblewomen and refined houses. You expect that suddenly a groom will enter, or the guardian of a hidden treasure with heavy keys and bolts to fix.
In reality, pairs of tourists enter, intrigued by this ancient art as well as the many faces of the upper town that pass every day for a coffee, or a quick chat about the news of the day, but above all to watch.
Yes, workshop umarell* exist!
*Umarell is a dialect word referring to old men who like to pass time watching construction sites.
The blacksmith, Raffaele Scuri, waits for us with his arms folded - as if to retain the energy that will then be necessary for him to work. He wears a jacket and jeans, but we would not be surprised to see him with clothes from a bygone era.
It seems like a place of eternal beauty where art, craftsmanship, physics and human sensibility meet and take the unique and unrepeatable shape of a wrought iron object: the headboard of a bed, the gate of a building, the lamp of a museum.
Here, since the beginning of the last century (the first shop dates back to 1904), four generations of artisans have succeeded each other. With a hammer in hand, sweat on their foreheads and passion in their gaze, they created their new life of young spouses settling down, where dreaming was as beautiful and strong as the love that animated them.
"Today, unfortunately, it is not like that anymore - he points out with apparent detachment - the forever is little practiced: there is no longer the home for life, let alone love. People move, change city, nation and no longer build anything to pass on. Our work has changed, but not so much for the industry, the department stores, the discounted offers, rather for the human beings and their tendency to live in the here and now - where investments, especially in terms of human relations, are increasingly fragile and fleeting ".
In the words of Raffaele, they mix hardness and melancholy, a sort of resignation that sometimes takes your breath away and seems to leave no room for wonder.
The fire returns a moment later.
The blacksmith of the upper town takes off his jacket, with decisive action revives the fire and dips a long iron bar into it. We remain motionless, anxious not to disturb. Just six hammer blows, the rhythm of his expert arms, the apparent lightness of a gesture learned by looking, wrongly, trying again, to witness the birth of the curl, perfect and different from all others, the railing of a terrace.
Only now, he smiles satisfied: "the most interesting part of this work is finding the right way to achieve something that seemed impossible”.
It is not just about using hands and tools: it requires reflection, tenacity and the sense of beauty.
What is needed is what Alda Merini called "the poetic gaze" and that is the extraordinary aptitude of making poetry come out of an inanimate object.
Who knows how can you teach it? Who knows if anyone still wants to learn it?
Then Raffaele is a son of art. His father Pietro took over from his grandfather in the '60s bringing some technical innovation and machinery, and especially poetry.
In fact, Pietro Frér is also the name of a dialect poet who was able to sing the hard life of the blacksmith.
“A l’ mör e l’ fà sènder urmài chèl carbù
a l’ sèra bütiga, l’è stràch pò a ‘l frér,
ma dét a chi öcc a s’ved la passiù
insèma al piassér d’ ì facc ol doér;
in mès al sò mónd e a chèla armonia,
a l’ canta piö ontéra la sò poesia.
(poetry by Piero Frér from the book "Piero Frér poesie")
Taking home an object made in Raffaele Scuri's workshop is an act of faith: in beauty, in work, in the future and in poetry.”
