A painting of the Estense Castle emerges. On the wall the mystery of the ghost-painter

He climbs the stairs to the top floor, the wood creaking under his feet, the sound of time that has passed, of centuries. He points to a wall. On the white background, a drawing of the castle of Ferrara , it looks like a sketch, the first trace of what should become a painting. On the left, a little out of perspective, also a bell tower. The volumes, the dimensions, the lines of absolute perfection, the hand of an artist. A mystery, a thriller to which Valentino Ronconi , 63, tries to give an answer.

Between the walls of that old farmhouse – Casa Zampieri , Villanova Marchesana, Polesine plain for years under the heel of the Estensi –, the signs of another artist's hand. It is his grandfather Oreste Busolli, who with his hands, planes and chisels brought wood to life. Like that press in a corner, carved in the shape of a violin key. Or the monster of war, the jaws, a vine from which a child is hanging. "It looks like Mussolini's head", he underlines. Symbols of peasant civilization. But the mind goes back to the attic, to that mystery imprinted on a wall. For Valentino it is a suspended why. He points again, he says: "On the walls, now yellowed by time, some mural paintings depicting the Estense Castle still clearly emerge". A pause. The gaze, aided by the light of a lighthouse, moves a little further. "There is a Black Eagle, this too is a symbol full of history and meaning. The Estense Castle, with its towers and battlements, and the Black Eagle recall the influence of Ferrarese culture, evoking a link with noble power and a vision of the world ordered around the court and the land". Ronconi outlines some hypotheses, returns to the words that come to his mind, words of his grandfather Oreste. "These frescoes - he continues - were perhaps created by a passing artist, a famous painter. He arrived here, left his signature, disappeared. A bit like a ghost-painter. Silent but eloquent testimonies of a deep and stratified identity. They tell of a world in which art, daily life and symbolism coexisted, even in the humblest spaces. Well, I would like to give an answer to this mystery. I would like to ask some expert, an enthusiast to come forward, to clarify, to give a name to whoever traced that work".

Casa Zampieri appears tinged with red between the profile of the wheat, the still green of the corn. A land designed by the Po River. He continues: "It is a historic residence, dating back to the 18th century, there is the manor house, a rustic building adjacent to the house. The area in front has a courtyard paved in terracotta and a characteristic well, elements that recall the functionality and aesthetics of the rural residences of the time". The property is private, not accessible to the public. Inside the house, sculptures made from ancient agricultural tools revisited in an artistic way, a fascinating testimony of peasant life. "It is a museum. These rooms open up worlds, glimpses of life in the countryside", he says, while caressing a mortar as big as a man, made of wood. "My grandfather would fit inside it to sculpt it". Tools, once used daily in the fields, which are works of art that speak of hard work, ingenuity and tradition. The artist has skillfully reinterpreted each object, giving new life and meaning to what was once a simple work tool. Each piece invites us to reflect on the value of the past and the importance of the memory of rural communities.

"I would like these works to be safeguarded, protected from the scythe of time", he says. Then an appeal. "Anyone who loves these traditions, a collector, perhaps someone who has a museum of peasant civilization could come forward. To safeguard these testimonies". A double appeal, to save a page of history. To give a name to that artist who one day in an attic traced the castle and the eagle. Perhaps those lines marked with a pencil by a painter who in the nineteenth century was the owner of that house. "Grandpa Oreste? No, it can't be. He didn't know how to draw". A mystery, waiting for an answer in the warm wind of the plain.