Salò’s Via Lucis Art Path Rekindles Community and Spiritual Reflection

The 14 stations of the Via Lucis will remain on display until February 28th in the Sala dei Provveditori of the Palazzo municipale, accessible on Saturdays and Sundays. The 14-station path, conceived for the Jubilee of the Year 2000 and renewing the tradition that was especially vibrant from the late 1500s to the 1700s with the Sacri Monti, was originally designed to be located from Salò to Serniga. However, there have been controversies and concerns within the City Council itself, as the 14 plaques commissioned to other artists were to be placed in small shrines along less frequented footpaths, risking vandalism. It is likely they will now be installed in the city center, on Via Gasparo da Salò, with photographs taken along the route to Serniga. Instead of the traditional Via Crucis along the Stations of the Passion, these small shrines evoke the events that liturgy associates with the period between Easter and Pentecost—the moments when Christ reveals Himself to the disciples, communicating the Resurrection. Christ, guiding the believer on the path back to God. Since the commissioning body is not a religious institution but the civic administration, questions arise about the significance this path might hold for the entire community, believers and non-believers alike. This significance can be found in the reminder of art as a binding element of both physical and spiritual contexts. In Western Europe, the figure of Christ crucified, suffering and dying, revealing the divine face, became prominent; in Eastern Europe, the image of Christ radiant with light and glory prevailed. Merging these two traditions results in the Salodian Via Lucis, from the path through suffering and death to the invitation to experience and radiate beauty by retracing the steps of the Transfiguration.

The artworks and their meaning

Let us examine the 14 “stations.” In Ilmì Kasemi’s depiction, Jesus rises from the dead: blending composure with emotional upheaval. In Entela Kasémi’s plaque, the disciples find the empty tomb. Featuring rough, laconic means, it embodies the energy of construction. In Ugo Donati’s plaque, the Risen One appears to Magdalene: the figures, rendered as arabesques, are fully absorbed in the light, transcending into an ultrasensitive dimension. Giuseppe Rivadossi’s plaque captures the Risen on the road to Emmaus. The figures emerge from within the shrine, united by the collective feeling of existence across centuries. Albano Morandi portrays the Risen breaking bread and giving it. A cross-shaped sign fragmenting the plaque resembles a flash of light, evoking a wound and a cry, within an abyss.

Franca Ghitti’s work shows the Risen manifesting to the disciples. The small shrine is made from discarded iron molds from old forges: in a specific environment, the forms’ life merges with that of humanity, gaining awareness that human life does not end within a single existence. Mariano Fuga’s plaque depicts the Risen granting the power to forgive sins. Love dispenses its gifts, and here the divine breath animates a vivid, expressive gesture. Antonio Stagnoli’s plaque is dedicated to the Risen confirming Thomas’s faith. The miracle emerges naturally from everyday reality as a sign of heartfelt mercy towards the humiliated and insulted, who bear the world’s pain. Gianfranco Renzini depicts the Risen appearing on the Sea of Tiberias. The sacred story is realized through a lyrical, awe-inspired depiction of the humble fishermen tending their nets, worthy of the Beatitudes.

Giuseppe De Lucia’s plaque shows the Risen bestowing primacy on Peter. Calm and persuasive in tone, emphasizing recognizable, tangible details, Christ appears as a kind, comforting father. For Paolo Frascati, the Risen who sends the disciples into the world is a trembling spark of energy, a flickering flame that transforms invocation, lament, and cry from the darkest night of the world—dying on the Cross—into an eager anticipation of resurrection and brightness. Giulio Mottinelli’s work portrays the Risen ascending to Heaven, where the light, like a waterfall awakening nature in a dream of lushness and penetrating the innermost pores of things, illuminates an ecstatic time.

Beatriz Millar’s plaque depicts Mary waiting for the Holy Spirit: contemporary humanity bears fruit on the Tree of Life, or Tree-Church, which also resembles a rose window. It tells a story through symbolic colors of faith as brotherly communication. In the final station, Attilio Forgioli illustrates the Risen sending the Holy Spirit through a dynamic, baroque, and organicist manipulation of ceramics: divine light radiates over earth, a dense, pulsating coagulate of shimmering, phosphorescent colors. The hands seem to speak with the material, striving to free the spirit imprisoned within. Ultimately, this is what the Via Lucis of Salò communicates to everyone.