Divina Bugatti. A Timeless Legend Celebrated in a Timeless Book

We will tell you the story of the book "Divina Bugatti." It was created as a joint effort between Romano Artioli, owner of Bugatti Automobili, and Franco Maria Ricci, a legendary Italian publisher—the photographs by Roberto Bigano. Before we begin, let us introduce the characters and put them in context.

Automobiles Ettore Bugatti was a French high-performance car manufacturer founded in 1909 in Molsheim, Alsace, France, by the Italian industrial designer Ettore Bugatti. The firm produced about 8,000 cars and is known for its design beauty and many race victories.

Romano Artioli is an Italian visionary entrepreneur who bought the Bugatti brand in 1987 and revived it in Campogalliano, Modena, as a builder of its time's fastest series-production car. Bugatti Automobili produced a total of 128 cars. Read all the stories here.

Franco Maria Ricci was one of the most refined editors the world had ever seen. His iconic Magazine, FMR, and splendid books are still a reference. However, FMR was also an often unattainable goal for any photographer. Laura Casalis, Franco Maria Ricci's widow, recently relaunched the FMR magazine and Publishing House with outstanding publications.

Roberto Bigano was Bugatti's photographer at the beginning of the 1990s, documenting the birth of the new Bugatti. Roberto will introduce us to the fascinating vintage Bugatti world.

Let Roberto Bigano tell us how the Divina Bugatti book project started and went through.

"In 1991, I was working for Bugatti Automobili. One day, the refined publisher Franco Maria Ricci, who already desired to celebrate the myth of the Bugatti, suggested the idea of a book on the legendary brand to Romano Artioli, the Bugatti company owner. They reached an agreement, and the plan went through. Naturally, Artioli mentioned "the best photographer in the world" to Ricci, encouraging my candidacy for the job. Ricci, as expected, was skeptical. "I have my photographers, ones I trust," he said with a half smile. The persistence of Artioli gained me a meeting with Ricci. "Go and take a few shots; we'll see," he said to get rid of me."
From Roberto Bigano's "1976-1992. A very serious, semi-serious biography."

I felt well-equipped for my departure—one hundred forty-five different accessories packed in the trunk of my station wagon. For months, I had been working on how to build a mobile set around a Bugatti on location. Before violating that holy ground, I carried out a test: I photographed a Lancia Thema in a large shed. It worked, so I decided to go ahead.

Upon arriving at the National Automobile Museum of Mulhouse in Alsace, I embarked on my nocturnal marathon. Cloaked in the atmosphere of suspense, in the eery silence, I came face to face with The Divine. The situation reminded me of one of Hemingway's stories: the bull and the lion, still before the charge. I was almost worried that the steel muscles would explode, at any time, in all their power, and the beast within would run me over like a train. I had an emotional outburst; I felt as if I were running a fever. Like a robot, I kept shooting and opening Polaroids. I looked at her, but I could not see inside her. Fatigue and tension made everything even more dramatic. "What am I doing here in France, in the middle of the night, in a dark museum? Why didn't I stay home?" I started thinking.
From Roberto Bigano's "1976-1992. A very serious, semi-serious biography."

Suddenly, I had reached the turning point: I opened yet another Polaroid, but this time, I found the courage to look at it with a photographer’s eye. I had recognized her, THE Bugatti, in all her dazzling beauty. “I am yours. Only you will be able to possess me,” she was saying. I started dancing as if I was in the middle of the Rio de Janeiro carnival parade. I didn’t feel tired anymore. “I’ve done it!” I said, my voice echoing in the empty museum.
I’d finally gotten a hold of the situation. I’d jumped on the wild horse and was riding as a Native American would.
From Roberto Bigano's "1976-1992. A very serious, semi-serious biography."

I arrived at Franco Maria Ricci’s, feeling confident and appearing as cold-blooded as a contract killer. I knew I was in the presence of one of the most refined editors the world had ever seen. Still, I also knew that I could not fail: if he had any taste at all – and it could not be otherwise – he could not still be indifferent after seeing my work.

Ricci received me with a gentler than polite smile, the smile you would give a child showing you their drawing. His expression changed and suddenly brightened after his eyes settled on the first transparency. “But they are… lit!” he whispered to himself. “Of course they are! Did you think I would bring you the dark ones?” I answered in a friendly yet amused manner. It felt like I was watching from the outside as if I were the spectator to a film. Franco Maria Ricci picked up the phone. “Come and look at something sensational!” he said, running down the corridor enthusiastically. “Call the others and tell them to come to my office!” He looked at me excitedly in front of all his associates, as if I were a superhero, and offered me some incredible projects: on Spanish baroque style, on medieval armor, on the town of Parma, and on French cabinet-makers. He had just assigned me all his future projects.
I had managed to impress Franco Maria Ricci, the king of aesthetics!
From Roberto Bigano's "1976-1992. A very serious, semi-serious biography."

Selected images from the book — The most iconic Bugattis, documented under the most demanding editorial standards in the world.