"Agh!" What sort of man was Fragonard?"
-William Carlos Williams
Call me crazy, no, seriously...call me crazy, because there’s one thing that I have never understood about wine. Yes, believe it or not, I am in need of some sort of practical lesson in why so many artful miseries are created when a guy’s face becomes the inspiration for a label. Call it irrelevant, but I have witnessed enough silhouettes, cameos, profiles, self-portraits and ungainly mugshots to make my own ill-afforded scrapbook. Furthermore, I’m very aware of all the references made to all persons historic, or otherwise; oh, and I do not wish to undermine the accomplishments of explorers, countrymen, religious denizens, or anyone of pertinence. However, I’m curious about what the giggly customer has in store when they might, in all wonderment, look upon a picture of Christopher Columbus and figuratively guess as to whether or not there’s a Chianti that’s just as intrepid as he. Well, if you must know, he and his crew ate salt-lettuce as a preventative measure against scurvy. I never knew the man, but as an old adage can be reworked, “We are composed by what is consumed.”
Sorry if I scared you in the introduction, there is a lot of great Chianti to be had, regardless of who is profiled on the bottlefront; besides, it is your enjoyment that suffices. Plainly I state, that all of this is some kind of phenomenon that had existed, probably, since the creation of a worldwide wine market; but fortunately, the innate practice has not ceased altogether. I am perfectly open to the suggestion that a red, white, or rose, can be regal as the person represented on-cover, but the sensible quirkiness, or comedic value cannot be ignored. Laughs aside, the most puzzling thing, is that Italy has been continuing to imprint, recreate, or dredge-up old namesakes at a more steady rate than any other country. Now, I can’t say if this is could be a statistic reality, but I’ve come across quite a few gentleman idly gazing at me in manners that I don’t wish to examine.
-William Carlos Williams
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| Clemente VII |
Sorry if I scared you in the introduction, there is a lot of great Chianti to be had, regardless of who is profiled on the bottlefront; besides, it is your enjoyment that suffices. Plainly I state, that all of this is some kind of phenomenon that had existed, probably, since the creation of a worldwide wine market; but fortunately, the innate practice has not ceased altogether. I am perfectly open to the suggestion that a red, white, or rose, can be regal as the person represented on-cover, but the sensible quirkiness, or comedic value cannot be ignored. Laughs aside, the most puzzling thing, is that Italy has been continuing to imprint, recreate, or dredge-up old namesakes at a more steady rate than any other country. Now, I can’t say if this is could be a statistic reality, but I’ve come across quite a few gentleman idly gazing at me in manners that I don’t wish to examine.
Cerro Vino Noble |
Take Clemente VII for instance, an unflinching, relaxed fellow who might suggest that Chianti is from the Veneto, rather than Tuscany. Being religiously clueless at times, I probably would have mistook him for the Merchant of Venice. Dressed in the traditional garb of a pope at the time, this figure was actually a cardinal before his papal election in November of 1523. Giovanni de Medici as he was earlier known, was sighted for his prudence toward humanity and the arts, not politics. Good thing too, because we want to take the legislation out of wine. What better way to represent oneself than with fine leather, wild cherries, good smoke and a well-rounded personality.
Another guy, is the late Composer, Carlo Gesualdo; who, despite a fairly controversial career and life, remains as one of the most innovative Renaissance men in the disciplines of erotic songwriting. Without shame, he chronicled his personal exploits of promiscuity and sadism within his works. Heh, maybe I’ve got the wrong dude, so-to-speak, but after some thought, Fattoria Del Cerro’s “Vino Noble De Montepulciano,” is racy enough to excuse the wine’s producer from highlighting a true radical on the label. Aged for two years in Slovenian and French oak, the blend is dense and rich, showing notes of cherry, plum and vanilla without hesitation. K
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K.W. Canary Hill |
Notwithstanding, American producers also have their fun with less than discreet interpretations of characters that have, or do exist in the known world. They might not be entirely famous, but the depictions are somewhat amusing if not exact. Ken Wright has not been bashful in his attempt to portray the hoi-polloi of Oregon, but his dynastic vintages of Pinot Noir seem to make up for the cartoonish mishmosh of anyone closest to him. The 2009 vintages of the “Abbot Claim” and “Canary Hill” vineyard lots are the essence of handcrafted Pinot these days, but there’s no mistaking whose hands are actually doing the work. As the day comes to a close, the personalities are remembered whether or not you’re drinking the wine, or making it yourself.
I am transfixed, curious and somewhat lacking in words for some pictures, but in totality, I think the portraitures should continue. They lend a certain sense of humanity to the wine produced, or if not, they can tend to be candidly funny. I don’t know whether to praise the artwork, the figureheads, or the winemakers, but I am very thankful there’s someone on the label.
At least some of the time...
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