Lindsay Marie Morris

Emerging in the 19th century, when Sicily's working class would gather nightly to watch puppet shows for entertainment, Opera dei Pupi is today recognized by Unesco as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of humanity. Generations of marionette puppeteers carried on the tradition, also known as Teatro dei Pupi, performing stories from medieval chivalric literature, Renaissance Italian poems, saints' lives, and tales of bandits, often improvising the dialogue.

 

In its heyday, there were about forty Opera dei Pupi theaters. Today, 10 companies perform in six Sicilian towns. 

 

Times have changed. The COVID-19 pandemic didn't help. But the art continues—thanks in part to Syracuse puppeteer Daniel Mauceri. 

  

For 40 years, Daniel's family has carried on the tradition of building puppets and staging performances. The puppet artist grew up with hands often covered in paint, surrounded by the scent of wood and the sounds of grandfather Alfredo Vaccaro, tinkering away with his utensils.

 

Daniel credits his father, Umberto Mauceri, with nurturing his manual skills, which he uses today in creating and restoring puppets that appear in private homes as well as in international museums. And, of course, there are those puppets reserved for puppet shows. 

 

Performances are geared for all ages, tapping into classical themes and stories as well as new interpretations. The theater caters to all ages and even offers shows in English by request.

 

I recently caught up with Daniel to learn more about his art and adherence to tradition, as well as puppetry's place in modern society. 

 

 

What is your background?

I am originally from Sicily, a land that lives and breathes the tradition of the Opera dei Pupi. I live and work in Ortigia in Syracuse, among workshops and theaters that were part of my childhood and my growth as an artist.

 

What inspired you to continue the family tradition of Opera dei Pupi?

I was born and raised within this ancient art. Even as a child, I knew and wanted to become a puppeteer. Growing up surrounded by puppets and everything that revolves around them has fueled in me a deep bond with this tradition. I felt the need to give it new life, respecting the roots but also adding my personal touch by creating an association that allows me to perform shows and a brand that bears my name, "Daniel Mauceri Arte Pupara dal 1978."
 

What are some of the most difficult aspects of creating these puppets?

One of the most challenging aspects is certainly maintaining the high-quality craftsmanship of each puppet, respecting the precision in the details. Each work requires hours of meticulous work, from the carving of the wood to the painting of the faces to the embossing and chiseling of the armor. Each step is essential to conveying the authenticity and emotion of this work.
 

How do you ensure each puppet maintains the traditional elements while also incorporating your own unique artistic touch?

Respect for detail is key. Each puppet comes out of a studio and still follows the classic canons in realization, such as the use of authentic materials and traditional techniques. However, in the creative process, I add a personal touch, both in the expressions of the paper-mâché faces to give each puppet a personality that distinguishes it and in the creation of the armor.
 

What materials do you use for the puppets?

The puppets are mainly made of pine and beech wood, paper-mâché for the faces of the puppets, and copper, brass, nickel, silver, or bronze (all beaten by hand) for the armor. I find the materials through national suppliers.
 

How has the art of Sicilian puppets evolved over the years, and what role do you think it plays in modern culture?

The art of puppets has changed little in its essence, but today, it has a different value. It has become a cultural symbol that represents Sicily all over the world. In modern culture, puppet theater acts as a bridge between past and present, educating and fascinating new generations.
 

What is one of your most memorable moments as a puppeteer?

One of the most memorable moments was seeing a child's reaction during a performance. His eyes lit up, and at that moment, I realized that, despite modern times, puppet art still has the power to enchant. This same child, now grown up, helps me during the shows by moving my puppets.

What advice would you give someone interested in learning the art of Sicilian puppets?

I recommend studying the tradition in depth and approaching the puppet families with humility. You could also initially take advantage of my workshops on the construction of the puppets. It is important to understand that this tradition tells an ancient story. You have to respect the times and methods of the past, but don't be afraid to add something personal.

 

>>Learn more about Daniel Mauceri Arte Pupara dal 1978 here!<<

 

 

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Late summer to early fall was harvest season for my Sicilian grandfather's garden, where he grew, among other things, five-foot-long cucuzzi (also known as snake squash or bottle gourd) with seeds from Palermo. He'd bring it in for my grandmother, along with some of the leaves they called tenerumi, and she'd cook both in soups and stews. 

You won't find cucuzza in a supermarket. Most cucuzza cooks grow it themselves. I recently spotted cucuzzi hanging from a fence near my home in the San Fernando Valley. 

But every so often, this Sicilian specialty makes an appearance at farmers markets. That's where Northern California food storyteller Simona Carini encountered her first U.S.-grown cucuzza, a squash she'd only previously seen in Sicily. 

Simona bought that cucuzza along with its leaves and created her own recipe, cucuzza e tenerumi al pomodoro. She shared with me the story behind the recipe and what she hopes readers will take away from her blog.

 

 

Tell me about your background.

I was born and grew up in Perugia, Central Italy, where I spent the first half of my life. I went to school there, my friends are there, and my family is there. At age 30ish, I moved to Northern California. My husband is American.

 

My last name is Sicilian. Carini is an ancient town not far from Palermo. However, my immediate family is not from Sicily. On both my mom's and my father's sides, our family is from Lazio, about 40 miles north of Rome, although my maternal grandmother was from Croatia, from Split.

 

When did you first encounter tenerumi and cucuzzi?

So it was 1980, which historically, for Italy, was a very hard summer. In June, a passenger plane was shot down over the island of Ustica. And shortly after that, there was a bomb in the city of Bologna. That was the year I flew for the first time.

 

We spent a couple of weeks there in this little town not far from Carini, which is called Villagrazia di Carini. And why there? It's because three of my classmates from elementary school were originally from Sicily. And I guess their uncle had a house there. We were basically 17 or 18; there were seven of us. And we hopped on a plane. It was my first flight, and we spent two weeks there. So that was the first time I had tenerumi.

We weren't really cooking, but we were in this small community, mostly of locals. We were not in a tourist place, so they kind of took pity on us because we were without anybody. And so I remember this neighbor bringing over pasta with tenerumi. I asked what it was, and I was told it was the leaves of young zucchini, but that was it. 

Fast-forward. In 2007, I went back to Sicily with my husband, and we stayed in Palermo. We went to the market, and finally, I saw the cucuzza with the tenerumi. However, at the time, we were staying in hotels, so I couldn't really cook anything, but I took pictures.

 

So, for the first experience, we had the kitchen, but we weren't cooking, and for the second, I was cooking, but I didn't have a kitchen. 

Then, in 2019, we were living in Berkeley, and I used to go to the farmers market on Saturday morning. I got there, and it was really funny because there was this group of people crowding around something. And this something was actually cucuzza and tenerumi.

 

They had never seen it. And one of the farm helpers was explaining. 

The cucuzza had been harvested young, so it was shorter, but I bought it, and people were looking at me like, "How are you going to cook it?"

I was like, well, I know in Sicily they make pasta, they make soup. I developed my recipe mostly because I didn't want to make soup. I wasn't interested in trying to make pasta, so I wanted to cook it as vegetables. And so I basically put together what I had—the tenerumi and the cucuzza, tomato from the farmers market, and onion. So that's how I kind of developed the recipe. 

 

What is the history of the cucuzza?

The thing about the cucuzza is that this plant actually came from Africa. It's been in Europe for a lot longer than zucchini. Then zucchini kind of took over. 

 

Can you speak to the idea of consuming the whole plant? 

This idea just speaks to me. It's a little bit like the tradition we have in Italy of using everything.

 

What do you hope that at-home cooks will take away from this recipe and your work?

Things don't have to be complicated, particularly Sicilian cooking. I mean, look at desserts, for example. Sicily has quintessentially decadent desserts if you think of cassata and all that kind of stuff. But the food itself is very simple. They cook fresh fish, they have vegetables, they have fruit, they make wonderful bread. And so I really try to make it so that people are less worried about the end result or if it fits some specific idea or if it is authentic.  

 

The whole thing about authenticity is very difficult because if we look at the history of migration from Italy, people left because they were starving. I mean, not everyone, but there was an enormous amount of poverty. They came from Sicily or, in general, southern Italy; they arrived in New Jersey or New York. 

I remember a friend of mine told me that she could always tell an Italian family because, in the winter, they would wrap up their fig tree. And I understand that everybody has fig trees in Italy; they don't need any care, and the fruit is good. But if you live in New Jersey or New York, you have to be careful about the winter. So what happened is that people had to adapt because they just didn't have the ingredients. So, already, to me, authenticity is not the right way to look at this. It is adaptability, which is how these people try to hold on to their traditions in a place that is completely foreign. And that's beautiful. 

 

>>Get Simona's cucuzza e tenerumi al pomodoro recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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