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The Memoirs of Giorgio de Chirico
No Italian painter of this century has aroused so much comment, from eulogy to outright condemnation, as Giorgio de Chirico (1888-1978). One of the initiators of surrealism, he is a key figure in modern art; his influence on later painters, particularly during his "metaphysical" period, is vast. De Chirico relied on imagery from the unconscious to create art with mythological, philosophical, and historical overtones, so that his paintings have an appeal that is more that purely visual.
262 pages, Paperback
Published March 22, 1994
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About the author
Giorgio de Chirico
80 books33 followersGiorgio de Chirico was an Italian artist and writer born in Greece. In the years before World War I, he founded the scuola metafisica art movement, which profoundly influenced the surrealists. His most well-known works often feature Roman arcades, long shadows, mannequins, trains, and illogical perspective. His imagery reflects his affinity for the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer and of Friedrich Nietzsche, and for the mythology of his birthplace.
After 1919, he became a critic of modern art, studied traditional painting techniques, and worked in a neoclassical or neo-Baroque style, while frequently revisiting the metaphysical themes of his earlier work.
After 1919, he became a critic of modern art, studied traditional painting techniques, and worked in a neoclassical or neo-Baroque style, while frequently revisiting the metaphysical themes of his earlier work.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
November 16, 2022
De Chirico non era una persona modesta - a ragione, naturalmente - ma il suo atteggiamento di continua superiorità lo rendeva (e lo rende al lettore che si ritrova in mano la sua autobiografia) piuttosto antipatico per questo suo salire sempre sul pulpito e giudicare tutti secondo il suo metro, che, per carità, è giustificatissimo, ma allo stesso tempo è anche molto soggettivo.
Tuttavia mi sono divertita un sacco a leggere il suo punto di vista spesso sferzante, pur non condividendolo appieno. Come quando ho arricciato il naso perché aveva sputato nel piatto da cui aveva mangiato parlando del Dottor Barnes, che pure aveva comprato da lui ben venticinque quadri per la propria collezione, tra cui il suo ritratto (Ritratto del Dottor Barnes: https://d2r83x5xt28klo.cloudfront.net...), o ha espresso il suo giudizio tranchant su Dalì (Cominciarono a batter la grancassa intorno ai quadri di quel malinconico pseudo pittore che risponde al nome di Salvator Dalì, e che dopo aver scimiottato Picasso si era messo a scimiottare i miei quadri metafisici nei quali però non capiva nulla, e certamente non potrebbe capirci nulla un uomo come lui. Quei quadri non sono stati capiti finora che da due o tre persone in tutto il mondo e ancora non lo potrei giurare. Questo Salvator Dalì è l’antipittore per eccellenza; persino nella faccia, persino nel nome. Quelle orrende superfici su cui pesta e liscia degli orrendi colori copiosamente verniciati e che solo a guardarli fanno venire le nausee e le coliche saturnine, sono state imitate da altre persone della sua specie che, a lor volta, lo scimiottano come possono e della pittura delle quali, il meno che si possa dire, è che dovrebbe occuparsene l’Ufficio d’Igiene. Salvator Dalì, che si trova ora in America, è costretto (per suscitare un po’ d’interesse per quella sua pittura, che in fondo non piace a nessuno) a creare scandali nel modo più pacchiano, grottesco e provinciale che si possa immaginare e così, più o meno, riesce ad attirare l’attenzione di certi imbecilli d’oltreoceano, marci di noia e di snobismo; ma pare che ora anche quegli imbecilli comincino ad esserne stufi.)
Cattivissimo, poi, quando dà degli incompetenti ai suoi stessi sostenitori e persino a Jean Cocteau! (Jean Cocteau sosteneva la mia pittura e scrisse su essa un libro dal titolo: Le mystère laïc. Io illustrai quel libro con alcuni disegni. Sono molto riconoscente a Jean Cocteau per l’interesse che mi ha dimostrato, ma devo dire che non approvo affatto il genere di lodi che mi tributa e la spiegazione che vuol dare dei miei quadri. Del resto io mi sono sempre trovato nella difficile situazione di dover spesso andare contro anche ai miei amici, anche a quei pochi che hanno detto e che dicono bene della mia pittura, non in modo tendenzioso e senza doppi fini e con scopi maligni, come oggi fanno molti in Italia ed anche fuori, soprattutto in America. Devo purtroppo, e con mio grande rincrescimento, agire così, poiché molti di quelli che mi sono favorevoli non capiscono anche loro nulla della mia pittura.)
Non parliamo del suo rapporto con le donne. L'unica donna e l'unico critico d'arte degno di nota è sua moglie Isabella Far.
Sulla sua guerra contro i falsari delle sue opere, però, non si può certo dargli torto, e mi sono divertita molto a seguire le varie vicende giudiziarie a essi collegate.
Al centro dell'autobiografia si possono ammirare, schizzi, cartoline, lettere relative al libro stesso e ai falsi, oltre ad alcune foto (quelle in cui De Chirico è all'opera su qualche scenografia, per esempio).
Numerosissimi i quadri citati, come gli Ettori e Andromache, i Trovatori e gli Interni metafisici (li cita proprio così), Cavalli in riva al mare, Mobili all'aperto, Mobili nella valle, i vari Autoritratti (tra cui quello col cappello e costume del '600: https://palazzoblu.it/wp-content/uplo...) e il ritratto doppio di Isabella con sua cognata Maria (Le amiche: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&u...)
Tuttavia mi sono divertita un sacco a leggere il suo punto di vista spesso sferzante, pur non condividendolo appieno. Come quando ho arricciato il naso perché aveva sputato nel piatto da cui aveva mangiato parlando del Dottor Barnes, che pure aveva comprato da lui ben venticinque quadri per la propria collezione, tra cui il suo ritratto (Ritratto del Dottor Barnes: https://d2r83x5xt28klo.cloudfront.net...), o ha espresso il suo giudizio tranchant su Dalì (Cominciarono a batter la grancassa intorno ai quadri di quel malinconico pseudo pittore che risponde al nome di Salvator Dalì, e che dopo aver scimiottato Picasso si era messo a scimiottare i miei quadri metafisici nei quali però non capiva nulla, e certamente non potrebbe capirci nulla un uomo come lui. Quei quadri non sono stati capiti finora che da due o tre persone in tutto il mondo e ancora non lo potrei giurare. Questo Salvator Dalì è l’antipittore per eccellenza; persino nella faccia, persino nel nome. Quelle orrende superfici su cui pesta e liscia degli orrendi colori copiosamente verniciati e che solo a guardarli fanno venire le nausee e le coliche saturnine, sono state imitate da altre persone della sua specie che, a lor volta, lo scimiottano come possono e della pittura delle quali, il meno che si possa dire, è che dovrebbe occuparsene l’Ufficio d’Igiene. Salvator Dalì, che si trova ora in America, è costretto (per suscitare un po’ d’interesse per quella sua pittura, che in fondo non piace a nessuno) a creare scandali nel modo più pacchiano, grottesco e provinciale che si possa immaginare e così, più o meno, riesce ad attirare l’attenzione di certi imbecilli d’oltreoceano, marci di noia e di snobismo; ma pare che ora anche quegli imbecilli comincino ad esserne stufi.)
Cattivissimo, poi, quando dà degli incompetenti ai suoi stessi sostenitori e persino a Jean Cocteau! (Jean Cocteau sosteneva la mia pittura e scrisse su essa un libro dal titolo: Le mystère laïc. Io illustrai quel libro con alcuni disegni. Sono molto riconoscente a Jean Cocteau per l’interesse che mi ha dimostrato, ma devo dire che non approvo affatto il genere di lodi che mi tributa e la spiegazione che vuol dare dei miei quadri. Del resto io mi sono sempre trovato nella difficile situazione di dover spesso andare contro anche ai miei amici, anche a quei pochi che hanno detto e che dicono bene della mia pittura, non in modo tendenzioso e senza doppi fini e con scopi maligni, come oggi fanno molti in Italia ed anche fuori, soprattutto in America. Devo purtroppo, e con mio grande rincrescimento, agire così, poiché molti di quelli che mi sono favorevoli non capiscono anche loro nulla della mia pittura.)
Non parliamo del suo rapporto con le donne. L'unica donna e l'unico critico d'arte degno di nota è sua moglie Isabella Far.
Sulla sua guerra contro i falsari delle sue opere, però, non si può certo dargli torto, e mi sono divertita molto a seguire le varie vicende giudiziarie a essi collegate.
Al centro dell'autobiografia si possono ammirare, schizzi, cartoline, lettere relative al libro stesso e ai falsi, oltre ad alcune foto (quelle in cui De Chirico è all'opera su qualche scenografia, per esempio).
Numerosissimi i quadri citati, come gli Ettori e Andromache, i Trovatori e gli Interni metafisici (li cita proprio così), Cavalli in riva al mare, Mobili all'aperto, Mobili nella valle, i vari Autoritratti (tra cui quello col cappello e costume del '600: https://palazzoblu.it/wp-content/uplo...) e il ritratto doppio di Isabella con sua cognata Maria (Le amiche: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&u...)
November 11, 2007
de Chirico is a hoot! He's hysterical! And he has the classic artist ego thing down pat. I actually went to see a retrospective of his work in Tokyo - and it was so horrible, that it became fascinating to me. And of course in his memoir he loves all his horrible paintings. He also loathes all contemporary art of the time - including everything by the Surrealists. Perfect artist memoir. Get it!
April 25, 2025
An okay read — but one best appreciated if you’re either: 1) word diarrhea enjoyer from an old, grumpy man, and/or 2) a self-obsessed artist and gossip connoisseur of the 20th-century art world appreciator.
Chirico is an interesting figure. Despite being egoistical and conceited, there’s a surprising lack of pretentiousness in his words. The book reads like it was barely edited — written as it came to him: unfiltered, occasionally over the top, but undeniably full of life. Chirico is someone few truly understand, much like his paintings. What does he mean when he says Nietzsche’s philosophy relates to the autumn afternoon and elongated shadows experienced in certain Italian cities?
And yet, dare I say, I may have come close to grasping the contents of his world: the deep love and loyalty he feels toward his home country, despite the ill-will of his fellow countrymen; the disdain for the irrational obsession with Parisian art culture and the neglect of local talent; the boredom of pretentious social gatherings that serve no artistic purpose but waste time with pseudo-intellectual ramblings, cultivating a cult of personality with no substance. The disillusionment with a decadent art world dominated by greedy dealers and paid critics. The disgust at the monotony of New York City. But also — the orange glow of the Genoan sunset, the satisfying fullness of a roast lamb meal, the nostalgic memory of the Greek sea, olive trees, and summer heat. The deep devotion and admiration he holds for his wife.
He founded an entirely new art movement — metaphysical painting — inspired the Surrealists, and then rejected everything that followed, deeming it all unworthy of praise or attention. I agree with his notion that even classical paintings can be metaphysical. Just because you paint in a realistic style doesn’t mean there’s no mysticism in the work. There’s no inherent need to deconstruct, simplify, or infantilize the art technique. But still — isn’t it exciting to break from tradition and let your imagination run wild? His contempt for modern art often feels personal and vindictive. What harm is there in exploring new styles?
In some sense, Chirico is a Don Quixote — a man of talent and noble upbringing, unable to make the world understand him, seeking refuge in the past. He idolizes the old Masters, surrounds himself with artists who share a love for traditional techniques, and viciously critiques modern art, deeming it talentless, tasteless, and beneath mediocrity. He isolates himself in the echo chamber of his own views, becoming almost paranoid with the belief that intellectuals enviously wish for his failure. Return to order. Reject modernity. Even through the pages, you feel he’s an outsider — never quite fitting in.
His obsession with casting himself as an “Apostle Peter” figure — the source of everyone’s envy and ire — takes up about a third of the book, especially intensifying in the second part (written in the 1960s), where it becomes borderline unreadable and unintentionally hilarious. At one point, he devotes three pages to furiously ranting about a Milanese bookstore for publishing a book on the “talentless” Cézanne, shamelessly pandering to the French, and failing to educate the public on contemporary Italian painters of true merit. To be fair, he does spotlight a number of obscure, genuinely talented artists who didn’t receive the attention they deserved. It seems he’s mostly motivated by a desire to advocate for overlooked talent — not just to defend his own reputation.
On a brighter note, I genuinely enjoy his metaphysical paintings. And through him, I discovered several fascinating artists he inspired, like Paul Delvaux and Gino Severini. His artwork also graces the covers of my Clarice Lispector Penguin collection — a funny little coincidence that still delights me.
Chirico is an interesting figure. Despite being egoistical and conceited, there’s a surprising lack of pretentiousness in his words. The book reads like it was barely edited — written as it came to him: unfiltered, occasionally over the top, but undeniably full of life. Chirico is someone few truly understand, much like his paintings. What does he mean when he says Nietzsche’s philosophy relates to the autumn afternoon and elongated shadows experienced in certain Italian cities?
And yet, dare I say, I may have come close to grasping the contents of his world: the deep love and loyalty he feels toward his home country, despite the ill-will of his fellow countrymen; the disdain for the irrational obsession with Parisian art culture and the neglect of local talent; the boredom of pretentious social gatherings that serve no artistic purpose but waste time with pseudo-intellectual ramblings, cultivating a cult of personality with no substance. The disillusionment with a decadent art world dominated by greedy dealers and paid critics. The disgust at the monotony of New York City. But also — the orange glow of the Genoan sunset, the satisfying fullness of a roast lamb meal, the nostalgic memory of the Greek sea, olive trees, and summer heat. The deep devotion and admiration he holds for his wife.
He founded an entirely new art movement — metaphysical painting — inspired the Surrealists, and then rejected everything that followed, deeming it all unworthy of praise or attention. I agree with his notion that even classical paintings can be metaphysical. Just because you paint in a realistic style doesn’t mean there’s no mysticism in the work. There’s no inherent need to deconstruct, simplify, or infantilize the art technique. But still — isn’t it exciting to break from tradition and let your imagination run wild? His contempt for modern art often feels personal and vindictive. What harm is there in exploring new styles?
In some sense, Chirico is a Don Quixote — a man of talent and noble upbringing, unable to make the world understand him, seeking refuge in the past. He idolizes the old Masters, surrounds himself with artists who share a love for traditional techniques, and viciously critiques modern art, deeming it talentless, tasteless, and beneath mediocrity. He isolates himself in the echo chamber of his own views, becoming almost paranoid with the belief that intellectuals enviously wish for his failure. Return to order. Reject modernity. Even through the pages, you feel he’s an outsider — never quite fitting in.
His obsession with casting himself as an “Apostle Peter” figure — the source of everyone’s envy and ire — takes up about a third of the book, especially intensifying in the second part (written in the 1960s), where it becomes borderline unreadable and unintentionally hilarious. At one point, he devotes three pages to furiously ranting about a Milanese bookstore for publishing a book on the “talentless” Cézanne, shamelessly pandering to the French, and failing to educate the public on contemporary Italian painters of true merit. To be fair, he does spotlight a number of obscure, genuinely talented artists who didn’t receive the attention they deserved. It seems he’s mostly motivated by a desire to advocate for overlooked talent — not just to defend his own reputation.
On a brighter note, I genuinely enjoy his metaphysical paintings. And through him, I discovered several fascinating artists he inspired, like Paul Delvaux and Gino Severini. His artwork also graces the covers of my Clarice Lispector Penguin collection — a funny little coincidence that still delights me.
April 26, 2018
Ο de Chirico ειναι ενας απο τους ζωγραφους που επηρρεασαν τον 20ο αιωνα και τη μοντερνα τεχνη,ηθελα παντα να μαθω κατι παραπανω για τη ζωη του, όντας και συντοπιτης μου.
Στην αυτοβιογραφια του θα δουμε πως ξεκινησε με τη τεχνη,τις εμπειριες του στην Ελλαδα πρωτα,Ιταλια,Γαλλια,Γερμανια αργοτερα.
Τον Ιουλιο του '45 σταματα να γραφει και συνεχιζει το '60.
Το κανει γιατι μπορει.
Και ειναι ζωγραφος,γλυπτης,σκηνογραφος και ενδυματολογος,αρθρογραφος και προπαντως πιστος στις ιδεες του:
Στο τι ειναι η Μεταφυσικη ζωγραφικη,στο ποσο σημαντικο να μελετησει καποιος τους κλασικους ωστε να εχει βασεις για να εξελιξει το αντικειμενο του,στο να "ξεσκεπασει" εκεινους που σφετεριζονται τις ιδεες του ("ενας ψευδοζωγραφος με το ονομα Salvator Dalì που μιμειτο τον Πικασο και μετα εμενα")
Ο συγγραφεας προσπαθει να διαπαιδαγωγησει,χωρις να γινεται κουραστικος,τον αναγνωστη.
Εξηγει τις πραξεις του,
προσοχη:δεν απολογειται,ειναι σιγουρος για το ταλεντο και το ορθο της γνωμης του.
Γραφει καθαρα και σταρατα,τα "χωνει" σε οσους πιστευει πως ειναι λαθος,επαινει τους σωστους κι αδικημενους,παντα φυσικα μεσα απο το δικο του πρισμα λογικης.
Θα παραμεινω στην αισθηση που μου αφησε αυτος ο τοσο ιδιαιτερος καλλιτεχνης διαβαζοντας τη ζωη του:
Ναι,ηταν μεγαλη ψωναρα ο Giorgio.Αλλα το μπορουσε.
Στην αυτοβιογραφια του θα δουμε πως ξεκινησε με τη τεχνη,τις εμπειριες του στην Ελλαδα πρωτα,Ιταλια,Γαλλια,Γερμανια αργοτερα.
Τον Ιουλιο του '45 σταματα να γραφει και συνεχιζει το '60.
Το κανει γιατι μπορει.
Και ειναι ζωγραφος,γλυπτης,σκηνογραφος και ενδυματολογος,αρθρογραφος και προπαντως πιστος στις ιδεες του:
Στο τι ειναι η Μεταφυσικη ζωγραφικη,στο ποσο σημαντικο να μελετησει καποιος τους κλασικους ωστε να εχει βασεις για να εξελιξει το αντικειμενο του,στο να "ξεσκεπασει" εκεινους που σφετεριζονται τις ιδεες του ("ενας ψευδοζωγραφος με το ονομα Salvator Dalì που μιμειτο τον Πικασο και μετα εμενα")
Ο συγγραφεας προσπαθει να διαπαιδαγωγησει,χωρις να γινεται κουραστικος,τον αναγνωστη.
Εξηγει τις πραξεις του,
προσοχη:δεν απολογειται,ειναι σιγουρος για το ταλεντο και το ορθο της γνωμης του.
Γραφει καθαρα και σταρατα,τα "χωνει" σε οσους πιστευει πως ειναι λαθος,επαινει τους σωστους κι αδικημενους,παντα φυσικα μεσα απο το δικο του πρισμα λογικης.
Θα παραμεινω στην αισθηση που μου αφησε αυτος ο τοσο ιδιαιτερος καλλιτεχνης διαβαζοντας τη ζωη του:
Ναι,ηταν μεγαλη ψωναρα ο Giorgio.Αλλα το μπορουσε.
January 7, 2021
I’m surprised I liked this as much as I did. Very opinionated - hates hates hates almost all modern art - but his point of view is so absurd and egotistical that for me it crossed into humor. It was like hanging out at the bar with a verbose wino, something I’m attracted to. It gets a bit monotonous after awhile, but he always pulled me back, such as his disclosure on ending anti-Semitism (basically, Jews need to stand up for themselves!). It helps that he lived through interesting times. The book, which is really three stitched together, ends with a treatise on painting technique. I thought I would like this section most being a painter myself, but it was dull.
May 30, 2020
Не знала, что де Кирико так сильно себя противопоставлял всему модернизму. От этого вёрстка книги в русском издании кажется какой-то насмешкой над художником (хотя я не знаю, какая вёрстка в оригинальном издании).
Вообще очень интересно узнать, что думал художник по поводу разных важных событий 20 века и как определял свое место в живописи.
Вообще очень интересно узнать, что думал художник по поводу разных важных событий 20 века и как определял свое место в живописи.
August 26, 2021
самодовольство и самоуверенность вдогонку за уходящим поездом
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