Cagliari

Our experience of place takes place here and now, but places are haunted in all sort of mysterious ways. The past, in many cases, not only shaped places but is also felt and experienced vividly, narrated by others and experienced vicariously, adding layers of complexity to where we live.

Each experience of place is shaped by what we and others have lived there, almost as whispers below the surface. Eliana’s carefully-portrayed encounter of past and present, wordlessly colliding in place, is a powerful reminder not only of the events that took place in Cagliari during the Second World War. The conflict continues to shape the urban fabric, not only through impacts of bombs that are still visible in the old city, but also of how such events shape contemporary human lives and memories.

The same place can mean other things to other people, as individual and shared memories combine and contrast. Antonio’s tale portrays the same place, but from another point of view.

Lorenzo’s collage of places returns to the same place, adding another layer of stories. Some places seem more sticky than others, with tales glued to them more firmly.

Time and place always come together in tales of change, in the narrating of events that continue to haunt us. Gabriele’s comic reminds us that fears, memories and difficult past events lie shallow below the apparently peaceful surface of the contemporary city. All our senses are mobilised in remembering, smells, noises, sights.

Some aspects of the past get memorialised and transformed into heritage, inscribed and institutionalised in specific places. Veronica’s tale begins at the archaeological museum, a treasure trove of memories spanning the centuries, yet inhabited and given body by the people who inhabit it now. This comic also shows how such stories in place are shared, made and narrated through staged or spontaneous encounters.

The past is also present in place when industries and practices have disappeared, with previously-thriving worlds turned to ruins. Maria Elena’s tale illustrates such changed practices in the city.

Individual and collective memories are also inscribed in place-names, as Mirko reminds us in his creative portrayal of a particular person who shaped the city. Places are transformed, even if not everyone remembers the reason for a name or the person who carried it. Spaces contain and allow stories to be told.

Individual histories are not always straightforward or uncontroversial, and memories can haunt us in various ways. Struggles and beliefs are sometimes buried, or can be proudly unearthed through stories. They can also be reshaped by current events and values, as Camilla reminds us in her illustrated tale of her grandfather’s life, love and labours.

As we listen to others tell us of their lived experience in place, these stories join our own, remaking the spaces we inhabit. Cities are also screen onto which tales get projected, reshaping and being shaped by experiences.

Memory of places is also made and remembered bodily, through learnt practices. Bodies learn how to do new things, in specific places. Sewing and skills are passed on workshops or at home, as Laura reminds us. The noise-scape of a multitude of sewing machines echoes through time, as do the memories of chatting and sharing during work breaks.

Machines and memories also appear in Chiara’s portrayal of Roberto, engraving objects in the street. The sound of his machine carving names and identities into people’s precious belongings becoming fainter, as needs change and practices shift.

Aurora’s tale, on the contrary, is almost silent. Daily life appears almost evanescent, drawn lightly in crayon on a piece of paper, reminding us of past lives lived quietly. Visual choices shaping how places in the past are narrated today.

Despite practices changing, memories cling to places and things, allowing past times to reappear through shared stories. Salvatore’s sensitive portrayal of the memories that re-emerge in connection to a tree, as the rhythms of the harvest rekindle stories illustrates this well. Proust might have had someone baking him madeleines, but lemons appear faithfully by themselves every year, and it is like cultivating a bountiful harvest of stories literally rooted in place.

Love and connection shape places in all sorts of magical ways, as Emma reminds us. Sharing an ice cream with someone in a special place brings up memories, and sets off a tale of romance, conjuring up other encounters in the same place. Happy hauntings that re-emerge in place.

We don’t always feel love at first sight for a place, as we sometimes do for a person, but sharing tales makes places come alive, here and now in the present, but resting on the deeper experience of others. Reading and sharing these tales, and structuring them in a series of blog posts, in one way of making these tales come alive within a broader mosaic.