There are few pleasures greater for an amateur numismatist than gathering with kindred spirits over drinks, light fare, and lively conversation. We recently spent an evening salon-style, passing around coins and medals of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies and the Sacred Military Constantinian Order of St. George, each piece inspiring discussions of history, artistry, and the Bourbon past. It was a reminder that collections are best appreciated not in isolation, but in the company of those who share the same passion.
Showing posts with label Numismatics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Numismatics. Show all posts
August 20, 2026
August 14, 2026
Among the Shelves: Treasures in a Friend’s Library
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| Il Blasone in Sicilia (The Blazon in Sicily), presented in its protective clamshell box |
Among the highlights was I Borbone delle Due Sicilie (The Bourbons of the Two Sicilies), the magnificent Scripta Maneant edition limited to just 399 copies. Accompanied by five commemorative medallions bearing the portraits of the Bourbon Kings of the Two Sicilies, it is as much a work of art as it is a historical publication.
Equally impressive was Il Blasone in Sicilia (The Blazon in Sicily) by Vincenzo Palizzolo Gravina, Baron of Ramione. Originally published in Palermo between 1871 and 1875, this monumental work remains one of the foundational references for the study of Sicilian nobility and heraldry. Its detailed histories of noble families, descriptions of coats of arms, and beautiful chromolithographic plates make it an enduring treasure for anyone interested in the history and genealogy of Southern Italy.
On a more personal note, I was delighted to find a copy of Ciri-Biri-Bin by Mel Silverman, a book I loved as a child. Published in 1957, it captures the warmth and vitality of Italian-American neighborhood life through Silverman’s bold, woodcut-inspired illustrations. Centered on a young boy named Mario and culminating in the excitement of a neighborhood feast reminiscent of San Gennaro, it remains a charming celebration of family, community, and the joyful spirit of Italian America.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 13th, Feast of Sant’Ippolito Martire
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| Five commemorative medallions bearing the portraits of the Bourbon Kings of the Two Sicilies |
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| Double-Page Spread featuring an antique map of the Kingdom of Naples |
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| Double-Page Spread featuring a detail of the ceiling in the Teatro di San Carlo, Naples |
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| (L) Cover of Carlos III: Majestad y Ornato. (R) Recto featuring a portrait of HM King Carlos III |
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| (L) Slipcover for Ruggero II d'Altavilla. (R) Gilt-stamped cover |
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| Double-page spread from Cerimonial dei Borbone di Napoli (1734-1801) featuring the portraits of King Carlo of Naples and Sicily and his consort, Maria Amalia of Saxony |
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| (L-R) Covers of Francesco II di Borbone: Immagini, documenti, testimonianze and I Briganti di Sua Maestà |
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| Cover of Cinque Borbone |
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| (L-R) Covers of Cuore a Sud and Diario di Francesco II di Borbone (1862-1894) |
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| (L-R) Rectos from Diario di Francesco II di Borbone (1862-1894) featuring portraits of HM King Francesco II di Borbone and HM Queen Maria Sofia of Bavaria |
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| (L-R) Covers of Carlo III and Un Cardinale Condottiero |
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| (L-R) Covers of Ferdinando IV: Re di Napoli and Un regno in America per Francesco II di Borbone? |
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| (L-R) Covers of A Tavola Con I Borboni and Ciri-Biri-Bin |
April 19, 2026
Celebrating National Coin Week (2026)
In celebration of the 103rd Annual National Coin Week, I’m pleased to share a photo of gold coins from my visit to the Asian Art Galleries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art last month.
Minted by the great Kushan rulers in the second and early third centuries, these coins follow a Roman weight standard. Their imagery presents the rulers in relation to a range of Near Eastern and South Asian deities—such as Shiva, who appears on the reverse of Vasudeva’s coin.
Left to right: Coin of Huvishka, Coin of Vasudeva, Coin of Kanishka, and Coin of Huvishka.
Minted by the great Kushan rulers in the second and early third centuries, these coins follow a Roman weight standard. Their imagery presents the rulers in relation to a range of Near Eastern and South Asian deities—such as Shiva, who appears on the reverse of Vasudeva’s coin.
Left to right: Coin of Huvishka, Coin of Vasudeva, Coin of Kanishka, and Coin of Huvishka.
March 2, 2026
The Medal in the Drawer
Recently, while rummaging through a cluttered desk drawer, I came upon a Saint-Gaudens Medal I had been awarded in high school by the School Art League for excellence in draughtsmanship. Its weight in my palm brought a sudden flood of memories—graphite dust on fingertips, the smell of turpentine, and long afternoons spent chasing form and shadow.
I was transported back to Mrs. A’s classroom, where Gaviota, my first true love, sat beside me, herself a gifted artist. We were young and certain of our calling. Mrs. A gave her advanced students carte blanche access to materials and reference books. It was in her classroom that I was first exposed to the works of Otto Dix, Dalí, and others who unsettled and expanded my sense of what art could be. She trusted us with freedom. We drew from plaster casts, from photographs, from life. We experimented boldly, confident that art would be both our vocation and our inheritance.
When graduation approached, I naively rejected sound advice to apply for stable city jobs. I was anti-materialistic, full of ideals, and romantic about the life of a starving artist. I did not yet understand how corrupt, cutthroat, and degenerate the art world could be. Reality came slowly. I found steady employment as a graphic designer—honest work, useful work—but it never replaced the deeper hunger for life drawing and painting.
Disenchanted and disgusted with the industry, I shamefully drifted from my craft. I allowed disappointment to dissuade me. Though I remain in contact with Mrs. A—an influential and heroic figure in my life—I sometimes feel I failed her by not realizing my full potential as an artist. She never imposed that burden; I placed it upon myself.
Yet I never lost my love for art. It endures, undiminished. It is one of the reasons I devote so much attention to art on the blog. I cannot visit museums and galleries enough. Each time I step into a hall and stand before a painting or sculpture, I feel the same wonder I knew as a boy—discovering beauty as if for the first time.
Perhaps this is how I have remained faithful to that earlier self. If I did not become the artist I once imagined, I have at least remained a devoted pilgrim—returning again and again to the wellspring, drawing from it, and inviting others to look more closely.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 2nd, Feast of San Luca Casale da Nicosia
I was transported back to Mrs. A’s classroom, where Gaviota, my first true love, sat beside me, herself a gifted artist. We were young and certain of our calling. Mrs. A gave her advanced students carte blanche access to materials and reference books. It was in her classroom that I was first exposed to the works of Otto Dix, Dalí, and others who unsettled and expanded my sense of what art could be. She trusted us with freedom. We drew from plaster casts, from photographs, from life. We experimented boldly, confident that art would be both our vocation and our inheritance.
When graduation approached, I naively rejected sound advice to apply for stable city jobs. I was anti-materialistic, full of ideals, and romantic about the life of a starving artist. I did not yet understand how corrupt, cutthroat, and degenerate the art world could be. Reality came slowly. I found steady employment as a graphic designer—honest work, useful work—but it never replaced the deeper hunger for life drawing and painting.
Disenchanted and disgusted with the industry, I shamefully drifted from my craft. I allowed disappointment to dissuade me. Though I remain in contact with Mrs. A—an influential and heroic figure in my life—I sometimes feel I failed her by not realizing my full potential as an artist. She never imposed that burden; I placed it upon myself.
Yet I never lost my love for art. It endures, undiminished. It is one of the reasons I devote so much attention to art on the blog. I cannot visit museums and galleries enough. Each time I step into a hall and stand before a painting or sculpture, I feel the same wonder I knew as a boy—discovering beauty as if for the first time.
Perhaps this is how I have remained faithful to that earlier self. If I did not become the artist I once imagined, I have at least remained a devoted pilgrim—returning again and again to the wellspring, drawing from it, and inviting others to look more closely.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 2nd, Feast of San Luca Casale da Nicosia
April 21, 2025
Grazie Easter Bunny!
This year for Easter, I received a large copper coin (Tank) from the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia. Slightly bent, it exhibits a nice olive-green patina. The obverse features a stylized portrait of King Hetoum I (1226-1270) seated oriental-style on a throne while wielding a globus cruciger and fleur-de-lis. The inscription reads "Hetoum King of the Armenians" in Armenian. On the reverse side, you can see the Latin or Crusader Cross accompanied by the Armenian inscription “Struck in the City of Sis.”
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