In the sixth article in a series on 20th-century artists who shaped Maltese modernism, Joseph Agius discusses the vast oeuvre of Emvin Cremona
Emanuel Vincent (Emvin) Cremona’s (1919-1987) reputation as an artist associated with church commissions didn’t tarnish his position as one of the most important pioneers of modernism in Malta. He owed his livelihood to these commissions which the Maltese public can admire as they adorn numerous churches across the country.
Cremona studied at the Malta School of Art under Edward Caruana Dingli and Carmenu Mangion. He continued his studies in Rome, where he was joined by fellow Maltese artists Willie Apap, Anton Inglott, Esprit Barthet, Victor Diacono and Giorgio Preca, among others.
In Italy, he came across the work of Mario Sironi (1885 -1961) which had a substantial influence on the Maltese artist’s work of the early 1950s. Sironi was an important exponent of the Italian Novecento group of artists, embracing a renaissance aesthetic harking back to and establishing links with the Italian Quattrocento and Cinquecento.
Between 1945 and 1947, the young Cremona supplemented his artistic studies at the Slade School of Fine Arts in the UK and at the École Nationale Supérieur de Beaux Art in Paris, France. There was a burgeoning art scene in the French capital during the post-war years − the young Maltese artist must surely have come across the ground-breaking work of Jean Fautrier (1898-1964) and the other tachists.
Returning to Malta in 1948, he succeeded Caruana Dingli as head of the painting department at the Malta School of Art.
The death of fellow artist and best friend Anton Inglott (1915-1945) robbed Malta of a shining star whose epitaph was the masterpiece The Death of St Joseph at Msida parish church. After his friend’s premature demise, Cremona was entrusted by the authorities of this parish church to complete a cycle of paintings that originally were meant to be Inglott’s remit.
Cremona’s deep friendship with Inglott equipped him with a knowledge of his late friend’s concepts and aesthetics. Thus the former could deliver, as much as possible, a seamless synthesis of artistic styles.
Thereafter, Church commissions poured in and secured Cremona’s livelihood. He managed to find a formula, or a compromise, that was modern but did not jar with the accepted ecclesiastical norms of those days.
The Maltese Church authorities detested the ‘excesses’ of modernism; Giorgio Preca’s famous crucifixion and its fate were an example of this distaste. The story of this ill-fated work was an eye-opener for Cremona and other artists who were aspiring for the powerful Maltese Church’s patronage.
Church commissions poured in... He managed to find a formula, or a compromise, that was modern but did not jar with the accepted ecclesiastical norms
These considerations were probably behind the reason that Cremona refrained from joining the Modern Art Circle. Antoine Camilleri, Josef Kalleya and their colleagues were quite a morsel for the powerful Church authorities to stomach. Malta is much the worse for it as it lost out on a possible repertoire of works by the members of the Modern Art Circle and its two re-brandings. However, this distance from artists’ groups did not get in the way of Cremona’s participation in the Venice Art Biennale of 1958, together with another six Maltese artists.
His personal oeuvre, light years away from the traditional ecclesiastical norms, secured his position as one of Malta’s 20th-century masters of modernism. He first experimented with Kandinsky-like abstractions, followed by the tactile reliefs, known as his Impasto series, in which he added gravel, sand, fabric and other unorthodox materials to add texture and contour in semi-abstract compositions. His greatest contribution to Maltese modernism is a series of iconic works known as The Broken Glass Series of the late 1960s.
Cremona’s Impasto and Broken Glass breakthroughs were not co-incidental; he was much aware of what was happening in the art world beyond our shores; one can mention the burnt sacks, drippings and concretions of Alberto Burri (1915-1995); the Concetto Spaziale holes and slashes of Lucio Fontana (1899-1968); the Achrome series of Piero Manzoni (1933-1963); the gestural output of Antoni Tàpies (1923-2012) and Manolo Millares (1926-1972); as well as the mirror series of Michelangelo Pistoletto (b. 1933), which the Arte Povera artist, in a gesture similar to Cremona’s, also shattered.
Fontana’s improvisational act to slash the canvas was revolutionary as the Italo-Argentine artist blurred the lines between the second and the third dimension and provided fodder for many discussions on the nature of art.
The Broken Glass Series works much in the same way as Fontana’s slashes. Cremona exerted some control over the act of shattering the glass panes in much the same way as Fontana did when he slashed the virginal canvas.
However, one cannot downplay the role of pure chance as both glass and canvas are idiosyncratic materials that can behave in unforeseen and un-predetermined ways when shattered or slashed. Both artistic acts have erotic overtones in the act of transgression − the rape of the medium by a sharp instrument that penetrates and threatens to destroy the creation of something new. Quoting Charles Bukowski: “The way to create art is to burn and destroy ordinary concepts and to substitute them with new truths.”
Cremona’s stylised pen and ink work, linked to architectural renderings and a spectrum of other Maltese themes were, and are still, very popular as bishops, knights, galleons, the Mediterranean sun, Maltese churches and townscapes attracted a wide audience. His extraordinary knack for design and architecture shine in these studies of life in Malta as we once knew it. There is a folkloristic element that Cremona indulged in and which thrives in these works on paper. A storyline is pursued – one that kneads into its folds the ingredients of our island’s history, religion, architecture, society and beliefs.
One must not forget to mention Cremona’s contribution to philately via his original and innovative stamp design as well as his superb knack for interior decoration.
Cremona left behind him a heterogenous artistic legacy that establishes him as a foremost innovator and, simultaneously, as one of the protagonists of Maltese 20th-century Church art in the latter half of the century.
It is this dichotomy that defines Cremona − he was the artist who secured the lion’s share of Church commissions by following Giuseppe Calì’s and Lazzaro Pisani’s rather conformist paths but yet he defied accepted mores, redeemed himself from all convention and uncompromisingly broke glass.