Gens Tiberina was born from a question that many Romans ask themselves: why is the Tiber so little experienced by the Romans themselves? Apart from tourists, runners and the occasional rower who explores it on the surface, it is rare to see the river as a meeting point or a place to relax. This is where my dream of a different Tiber was born: a place where you can stroll in peace, sunbathe or relax with your legs dangling over the water, perhaps enjoying an aperitif at sunset – and no, I don't mean one of those dumpy places furnished with fake grass and hookahs.
In Gens Tiberina , however, we find an authentic Rome, but not the one on the glossy cover. On the surface it is a “classic” view: the Tiber flowing peacefully, with the dome of St. Peter’s in the background and the unmistakable profile of Castel Sant’Angelo and the Ponte degli Angeli. But a closer look is enough to realize that beneath that idyllic surface are hidden details that tell a different story.
Rome is a lively, chaotic and, above all, unpredictable city. And the Tiber, with its urban fauna, is no exception. While I was designing this poster, I thought about the unofficial “inhabitants” of the river, those who make you say: “Is this really happening?” . Thus, among its waters and its banks, unusual characters appear.
There is the wild boar that approaches the water, now an honorary Roman citizen, a seagull that drags a garbage bag as if it were a trophy, a nutria that floats on a scooter and an electric bike that slowly sinks. It is almost an ecosystem in itself, which represents a grotesque and true side of Rome.
And then there are the hidden elements, those that only those who really know Rome can grasp. I added a bike path that ends against a wall, as if to say that good ideas in the city often crash into reality. And under the bridge, of course, there could not be a few tents: a melancholic and real shadow that reminds us of the degradation and social difficulties that Rome, with all its history and beauty, cannot resolve. And finally a graffiti, which in its desperate and romantic tone shouts: “MY HEART BURNS FOR YOU LIKE AN ATAC BUS” . A Roman declaration of love, between poetry and chaos, that says everything about our conflictual relationship with this city.
There is something tragically beautiful in this Rome, which resists despite everything, and Gens Tiberina is its manifesto. An invitation to stop, to observe, to understand that the city we love is as splendid as it is fragile. To you who are reading: have you ever found yourself having one of those daydreams about a “perfect” Rome? Tell me yours! Leave a comment, let me know if the Tiber you see in my manifesto made you smile, reflect or maybe fall in love a little more with our Rome, even with all its particular “inhabitants”.
