Winter mountain tourism in Italy developed significantly throughout the twentieth century, with marked growth between the two wars. Historical data show that, as early as the 1930s, resorts such as Cortina d’Ampezzo and Madonna di Campiglio began to attract significant winter tourist flows, establishing an economic model that would become a mainstay of many Alpine communities. The 1960s represent the height of mountain tourism development in Italy. This expansion was not, however, without its consequences. The evolution of mountain areas into tourist hubs, endowed with modern infrastructure to cope with mass tourism, led to the formation of real estate markets geared exclusively towards tourism. In the provinces, too, this became a strategic sector for the local economy. Localities such as Foppolo, and areas such as Passo San Marco and Monte Visolo, to name but a few of the best known, became prime destinations for winter sports enthusiasts, hiking and ski mountaineering.
While on the one hand this phenomenon encouraged the urbanization of Alpine areas, it also put a strain on local residents, who found themselves excluded from both buying and renting property due to rising prices. However, since the 2000s, winter tourism has begun to show signs of difficulty, especially in pre-Alpine areas such as the Bergamo Orobie, where climate change—with a reduction in snow cover—and shifting tourism preferences have made economic models based exclusively on skiing less sustainable. Although today efforts are also being made to enhance non-winter hiking routes and to protect local ecosystems, the Orobian Pre-Alps are undoubtedly an emblematic example of the transformations that the Italian mountain landscape went through during the twentieth century.
Traditionally characterized by multi-functionality that foresaw the coexistence of agricultural, pastoral, and forestry activities, these mountains have gradually suffered a demographic decline and an abandonment of traditional practices. According to ISTAT (the Italian Institute of Statistics) data, from 1951 to 2001, the mountain municipalities of the Orobie lost about 40% of their resident population: a phenomenon that contributed to the degradation of historical structures and artifacts associated with local culture. These changes brought with them the loss of the phenomenon of multifunctionality that had historically marked the relationship between humans and the mountainside.
Is it possible to imagine the mountains differently?
Is it possible to go beyond the dichotomy of development and conservation, to couple the “needs” of modernity with the richness of a natural and cultural heritage, one to be preserved and enhanced?
Every morning my gaze leaves the line of Linzone, climbs the Albenza and Roncola, and then slides along the entire crest of the Val Brembana, which wraps the lower villages at the foot of the valley as if in an embrace. Depending on the time of day and the seasons, the mountains are clad in hues that are never quite the same: from the soft, rosy bronze of dawn to the intense green shade that merges with the shadows of the forests. Each light cast seems to tell a different story, to take a deep breath. As I observe them, I think about how I inhabit (and work in) that living dimension of the “middle mountains”: that area of passage, encounter and ancient stories described by Mauro Varotto, professor of Geography and Cultural Geography at the University of Padua, in his essay Montagne di mezzo. Una nuova geografia (Middle Mountains. A New Geography).
The “middle mountains” are not those of heroic mountaineering, winter sports or pristine wilderness, but rather a misunderstood territory often perceived as “empty” or marginal. It is not a mountain without inhabitants, destined only for urban outsiders in search of recreation, but of a place that intertwines the physical with the anthropological characteristics of the mountainside. This anthropological specificity is based on a deep and historical relationship with the natural environment, often overlooked in contemporary narratives.
The middle mountains, defined beyond any strictly altimetric criterion, represent the mountain territory that humans have most intensely inhabited, anthropizing it over the centuries. These areas are “geography in motion,” a space that serves for mediation in terms of mobility and displacement. In contrast to the static idea of the settled area, the middle mountains reflect a “polytopic habitation,” based on multiple locations used according to seasons, labor or the needs of animals. The perspective proposed by Varotto enhances the cultural permeability between urban and rural, emphasizing how isolation does not represent a natural condition but is the result of social segregation. The “middle mountains,” on the other hand, are inherently places of interaction and dialogue between various altitudes and communities; they may be the focus of social innovation that rethinks the relationships between nature, local communities and visitors, offering a model based on solidarity and the enhancement of environmental and cultural resources.
Far from being a mere geographic or cultural edge, mountains can provide the workshop in which to forge a new alliance. This requires a vision that overcomes the dichotomy between urban and rural, valuing the mountain as a space of encounter and integration. From this perspective, the “middle mountain” is not merely a place to be preserved, but an active resource for building a sustainable and shared future.
The concept of the Orobie Biennial is deeply intertwined with this vision. Thinking Like a Mountain means embracing a perspective that views the mountain not only as a physical and geographical entity, but as a complex system that interweaves environmental, historical, cultural, and social dimensions. In this vision, the mountain is a territory that, despite having been anthropized over the centuries, does not lose its vitality as a space of mediation, exchange, and coexistence.
Valentina Gervasoni
