La Sartiglia

47 Those masks bear some childish features, something pure, innocent. Even melancholic. The mask of the Farmers’ Guild is earth-coloured. The one of the Carpenters’ Guild is pale-coloured. No matter what they are made of, wax or wood, they hide the deity from the public’s eye. His look only sparkles from the eye slits. It is an epiphany for everybody at the same time. “Su Componidori” is on horseback; his horse will be part of him for a day. The mask fixes his otherworldly essence, producing a sheer contrast with his embroidered veil covering his chest. When he leaves the dressing ceremony room, he is flanked by his two fellow horsemen, the second and third “componidori”. Around them, the other horsemen and the crowd. It is the celebration losing its intimacy to embrace the public, the competition, and the game. The long bright moment announcing a good prosperity omen. There are not faded colours. The costumes, the harnessed horses, every aspect according to the tradition, bring to mind a blooming garden. Once again this richness seems to evoke the abundance of the harvest, a good omen. It is common practice for “Su Componidori”, a sacred and lay priest at the same time, to give blessings on several occasions to the people around him and the other spectators crammed behind the barriers along the route. He will repeat those gestures at the end of the joust, holding in his right hand “sa pippia de maiu”, a sceptre of flowers made of violets and periwinkles. Now his majesty has reached the apex. Actually the solemnity of this ritual represents a hymn to prosperity, love and fertility.