Gennaro Landi

Gennaro Landi spent his days wandering Rome’s crumbling piazzas, sketching whatever caught his eye—crumbling walls, stray cats, the old men playing chess in the shadows. He liked to tuck tiny jokes into his drawings, like a boy balanced on a broken column as if it were a throne. His ink lines feel alive, like he’s still there watching. If you’ve ever stood in the Forum and squinted at the past, try his drawing of that boy on the column—it’s the closest you’ll get to a snapshot of 18th-century Rome with all its dust and daylight.