Daniel Mauceri: “The Art of Puppetry from the 19th Century to the Newer Generations”

Daniel Mauceri, who has just turned 44, has devoted his whole life, both mind and hands, to an art form that has been passed down through his family since 1877, when the first puppeteers of the Puzzo family established it in Syracuse.

Alfredo Vaccaro, Daniel’s maternal grandfather, joined the workshop alongside his brother Rosario, with whom he took over from the Puzzo family when they ceased trading. He began by making puppets, then, from 1978, he also revived the traditional opera, ‘l’Opra’, which recounts the marvellous feats of war and love of the paladins of France, drawn from ‘u Libru’ par excellence – that is, Giusto Lo Dico’s imposing nineteenth-century compilation inspired by the Carolingian cycle. On the island of Ortigia, in the family workshop, Mauceri builds and restores puppets, hosts workshops and organises the performances he is called upon to stage around the region. His mother, Francesca, continues to work alongside him; for more than forty years she has been in charge of the costume-making, crafting the colourful outfits for the puppets, ranging from the small ones measuring 27 centimetres to the larger ones, which stand as tall as 80 centimetres.

I’ve never had any doubts. Whilst I was still in my mother’s tummy, she used to assist with my grandfather’s shows, so I’ve always known what I’d do when I grew up. For me, this isn’t just a job: it’s my life, the air I’ve breathed.

No, but I have mastered every aspect of the art, from building the puppets to crafting the sets and directing the performances. I believe there are only five of us in Sicily who can claim such complete versatility. The others are ‘operanti’: they stage the shows but are not craftsmen.

There are differences between Palermo, Catania and Syracuse, but there are also the Messina and Acireale styles. The Syracuse style takes its cue from the Catania style, but my grandfather put his own spin on it: the most significant change was the creation of faces in papier-mâché, which came about by chance because his brother Rosario suffered from hemiparesis and no longer had the strength to carve wood. Both were, however, highly skilled papier-mâché craftsmen, so they turned to this material to model the faces. Today I use three types of papier-mâché, one of which is so hard that it can be carved. Furthermore, my family has refined the puppet’s structure, the fittings for the legs and arms, and the handle.

The story outlines are similar for everyone, but the style of staging varies. I have chosen to present a theatre without wings to allow the audience to see how the puppets are manipulated.

From the lives of the saints to the works of Shakespeare, anything can be performed provided it respects good taste and tradition. There is, for example, the genre of farces that depict scenes from everyday life, in which ‘pupi in paggio’ – that is, puppets dressed in traditional Sicilian costume – are used. Whilst the cycle of the paladins has always been performed in Italian, dialect is used for the farces.

Not merely with the aim of promoting the craft, but out of a desire to pass on a sense of craftsmanship to the younger generations. Trying one’s hand at making a ‘pupo’ helps people – especially those born after the year 2000 – to realise just how much can be achieved through manual dexterity and mastery of tools, without the aid of a computer. It is still possible to make a living from craftsmanship, and craftsmanship keeps alive skills handed down to us from the past, even though e-commerce makes it much easier for me to export my creations all over the world.

Rinaldo. I created the first one when I was thirteen, straight after my grandfather’s death. People like him because he’s handsome – blond with blue eyes, dressed in yellow and wearing silver armour. But to me, all the characters are like my own children, because they’re the result of the same hard work. There is just one sentimental exception: the puppet modelled on my grandfather Alfredo, whom I’ve also used in a few fairy-tale-style productions for children. I would never sell him. I’m also going to make a puppet in the likeness of my father, who passed away last March.

The time required varies greatly: it depends on the size and craftsmanship. Sometimes it can take as long as three months to assemble a chiselled suit of armour consisting of twenty-five parts. An 80-centimetre-tall paladin is an object of great artistic and cultural value.

I have two daughters, aged 16 and 12, who sometimes already assist me with the shows and in the workshop. Talent has been passed down through the generations, which is an essential component, but I won’t force anything on them: they’ll only follow in the family footsteps if they want to. These days, being a puppeteer also means being an entrepreneur, dealing with bureaucracy and managing relations with public authorities. Passion alone is not enough; it actually takes devotion.